Chapter 45
*Mikayla*
HOLE. EE. SHIT.
I feel sorry for all the girls in the world that never get to experience a Jake Andrews at least once in their lifetime.
***
I look at him with my nose scrunched, disgusted look on my face.
“It’s not at all what the rap videos make it seem like,” he’s laughing to himself.
We’re having dinner at the hotel restaurant the next day and we somehow got to talking about strip clubs, I don’t know how.
“So you guys weren’t sitting in red leather booths with ‘stunna’ shades, making it rain money?”
He laughs out loud, causing other diners to glare it him.
“No, Kayla, it most definitely was not like that. More like, sticky pleather chairs, making it rain germs.” He mocks a disgusted shiver.
The waitress comes over for our drinks order, never once looking at me, her eyes glued to Jake, eye fucker.
“I’ll have a beer,” Jake says calmly. “What about you, baby? Champagne with ice?”
I nod, and smile.
“Make it two of each, we’re on our honeymoon,” he says to the waitress, who then looks at me like she just realized I was sitting here.
Slutbag.
***
After a few more than a couple of beverages each, we head back to our room.
“Oh. My. God,” I say, “That old dude is my Lit. Professor and that girl is in my class.” I watch as the couple make there way over to us, fondling each other, not a care in the world.
Jake laughs.
As they come closer, Jake decides to be a smart ass and stand right in there way so they have no choice but to stop and look.
He does this to be an asshole.
When they stop and see him, and me, it’s awkward as all hell.
“Hi, Professor Greene,” I say quietly, looking down, I try to smile but it doesn’t follow through because Jake is an asshole, and this is fricken awkward.
“Oh!” The professor sounds surprised. He let’s go of the student and straightens up, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Hi, Miss Jones.”
He eyes me and then Jake.
His eyes widen slightly.
“I didn’t know that Jake Andrews was your boyfriend.”
“Oh, he’s not.”
Jake tenses next to me, then walks away, heading towards our room.
The professor tries to make awkward conversation, and the student tries to hide behind him.
As quickly as possible we say our goodbyes and I walk back to the room.
When I open the door he’s coming out of the bathroom.
“I’m going to take the floor, so you want to pick what pillows and blankets you want now?” he says to the room. He won’t look at me.
What?
“What?”
“I said-"
“I know what you said, Jake. But we have a king sized bed here, it’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before. Did I do something?”
“Whatever, Micky. Just pick so I can get some sleep. I’m tired as fuck.”
Micky? He never calls me Micky.
“What happened? You never call me Micky.”
“Well, maybe I should, that’s what your friends call you right?”
“Jake-"
“Well, if I’m not your boyfriend, and I’m not your friend, then what the fuck am I?” he’s yelling at me. “What the fuck am I to you, Mikayla? Tell me, please, because you sure as shit aren’t making it clear!”
I look down and shrivel into myself, hoping to god this isn’t happening. Because I need him, so bad. And he hates me right now.
*Jake*
“So?” I ask.
“Jake, I can’t, I can’t be more than this, not now, not yet.” Her voice breaks as tears form in her eyes. She won’t look at me.
“More than what, Mikayla?” I growl out. “More than friends? We’re more than friends and you know it. You can’t deny it either, all the touching and feeling. The innocent kisses and fucking hand holding. You,” I point to her. “You sitting on my goddamn lap whenever you get the chance. Last night, when you were riding my dick? And I made you come? That’s what friends fucking do, Mikayla?”
“Jake, that’s bullshit, don’t put it all on me. You know damn well you’re partly responsible for that too. It’s not just me. It never has been.”
“I’m not the one denying anything, Micky.” I spit out again, just to bring it home. “You’re the one that can’t decide what the fuck we are.”
“I don’t know!” she yells, standing up. Her voice is hoarse and tears are leaking from her eyes faster than she can wipe them away. She’s biting her lip so hard she’s going to draw blood. “I don’t know what the fuck to say, Jake. I mean, you have to know how I feel about you. You have to know that I…” she trails off.
“That you what, Mikayla?”
“I don’t know, okay?” She starts pacing the floor. I stand and watch her. “I just know that we can’t be together, not in that way. It’s just too much. I’m not ready. It’s just too fucking soon and I’m not fucking ready for it,” she screams louder with every word. She calms her breathing down and looks at me. “I just, you know how I feel, Jake. I just want you. Just you…”
*Mikayla*
Instantly, he’s rushing over to me and pins me against the wall. He lifts me up by my ass and I automatically wrap my legs around his waist. He’s kissing my neck, my collarbone. My face. Anywhere but my mouth.
I’m gripping his hair, my head thrown back to give him better access to my neck, I’m moaning and groaning and I’m so fucking wet, I’m sure he can smell it. I want him so bad. God, I want him.
He leads me to the bed and places me down. His lips never leaving my skin. He starts to remove my top and I sit up to help him pull it off. I’m not wearing a bra and my nipples are so hard they could cut glass. I’m so fucking turned on. He continues to kiss my neck while one hand cups my breasts gently and passionately. I scream quietly into the air. He position himself between my legs and I let out a cry as we start to move together. His lips get lower and lower on my neck until they reach my chest. He starts to kiss my breasts, one after the other, then licks in the dip between. I’m about to lose control, then his tongue is on my nipple and his mouth covers it, sucking gently, then moving to the other and doing the same, licking, and sucking and nipping each one. My hands are gripping the comforter under us and my head is thrashing side to side on the pillow. I’m struggling to keep from crying out loud, the pleasure is That. Fucking. Amazing. Then his mouth goes lower, and lower, his tongue dipping into my naval and I know where this is going and I want it So. Fucking. Bad. I want to cry in anticipation. His hands go to the band of my pants as he slowly starts to pull them down. My hands go to his hair, as I not so subtly push him further down, begging, pleading for a release, the alcohol making me braver.
“What do you want, Kayla?” he asks.
“What?” My brain is too fuzzy from the heat between my legs.
“What do you want?”
I stop to think about what he’s asking. “I still don’t know, Jake.”
He sits up, and my body already misses him.
“I can’t be what you want,” he says, slowly coming to a stand. I whimper internally for him to come back. “I need to be more than this,” he says, pointing his finger between him and me and our state of lust, “you need to pick. It’s all or nothing.”
I can’t. I can’t pick. I sit up and pull my pants up, then throw my top over my head to cover myself. I start sobbing uncontrollably. I can’t lose him but I can’t give him everything yet, and he deserves everything.
“I can’t, Jake.”
“What do you mean you can’t? You can’t choose? Or you can’t be with me?”
“Yes.”
“To which one?”
“It’s been six fucking months, Jake. Six months since my life turned to shit.”
He flinches at my words and I know he’s taken it the wrong way. It’s not about him, not at all.
“Jake, that’s no-"
“It can be six months, or six fucking years, Mikayla. Your boyfriend will still be an asshole, your best friend will still be whore, and your family will still be dead!” he spits.
My eyes snap to his and I see the regret instantly.
“Kayla, baby, I’m sorry, I’m a dick. I shouldn’t have sa-"
“Go to hell, Jake.”
“Kayla, please.” He’s crying now, voice breaking.
“Get the fuck out, Jake!” I scream at him.
He flinches but walks out the door, closing it quietly behind him.
I don’t see him for the rest of the night.