CH5

Jackson slammed his car door and stormed toward the building, fuming. He couldn't believe his dad would pull something like this just to mess with him.

All he wanted was to be left alone, to live life on his terms.

"Stupid fucking bullshit," he muttered, stopping by the door. There was a guy in a navy blue uniform standing there. Campus control, probably.

"Can I help you, sir?" the guy asked.

Jackson let out a deep breath and pulled out his wallet. The security guard's hand hovered over his gun, his eyes locked on Jackson.

Jackson searched for his campus ID and flashed it to the man in front of him. The security leant forward and un-holsterd his flashlight. Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Head up."

Jackson did as he was told, showing his face fully to the man in front of him. After a other double check the security motioned for him to pass.

Putting his wallet back, Jackson muttered a sarcastic, "Thanks," before disappearing inside. As soon as he stepped in, his pace slowed, and soon he came to a complete stop.

For a few moments, he just stood there, trying to calm himself down, letting the anger and frustration melt away. He didn't want to go back to his room, not with Azalea there. She'd see right through him like she always did, and he wasn't in the mood for that.

Thinking about her helped ease the tension. Honestly, he couldn't think of anyone else who had that effect on him. She was the only person who seemed to know how to calm him, to make everything feel... peaceful.

Yeah, he partied, got into trouble, did all the things a rebellious kid did—but with her, it was different. With her, everything felt safe. It was like a break from the chaos.

Jackson shook his thoughts away and kept walking toward his room, but when he got there, he hesitated for a second.

"Should've gotten donuts," he mumbled to himself. "Well." He shrugged and turned the knob, entering with a wide grin on his face, his arms outstretched as if expecting a hug.

But when he noticed her asleep on the other side of the room, his smile instantly faded. He sighed, closing the door behind him softly before walking over to his bed. The shoes were the first to go, followed by his shirt.

His blue eyes caught the bruise on his knuckles, and he let out a heavy sigh. Anger, stress, hatred—that's all he felt whenever he was in the same room as the man who'd decided not to pull out.

He lay back on the bed, inhaling sharply, trying to push everything down. As he exhaled, he lifted his head, his thick brows furrowing as he gave his pillow a quick sniff. Then, his gaze shifted over to Azalea, watching her sleep, a quiet calm settling over him.

Jackson got up and pranced to her side of the room. The moonlight shone inside, creating a bit of light onto the sheets that's covering her frame.

He leant down, taking a silent sniff. Same smell. Jackson hummed and went back to his bed. He laid down and smothered himself into his pillow, wanting more of her alluring smell.

He always had a liking to the girl but can never knew how to express it. She's not like the girls who he's had his encounters with, and maybe that's what makes her so special.

Aside from her eyes. But her waist length hair, freckles that makes it look like someone took a paintbrush and flicked them there, her smile, her eyes, her wit. Everything about her to him, is perfect.

But why can't he find a way to directly tell her that ever since he met her he fell for her?

Jackson came back up for air seeing that her smell alone got his heart pounding. His lapis gaze drifted towards her again and he stared.

He wants to know if she was in his bed, and if so, why? As he thought about it, his senses being attacked by her sweet smell, he eventually fell asleep.

And it would be the longest and best sleep he'd ever have.

The next morning came and Azalea woke up normally. No shouting, no hits to the face with a pillow; just pure silence. A stillness she didn't feel comfortable with. It almost felt like a lucid dream.

The girl's hazel eyes ventured to the boy's side of the room, and instead of it being empty like it was last night, it's occupied this time. Azalea sat up, staring at him.

A bit of sunlight peered through the one window that's in their room, which is on her side of the room, and created a soothing warmth inside despite the AC.

Azalea studied him, noticing he's shirtless. Her eyes traveled, landing on his back. No marks, no hickey's, no nothing to indicate he was out with someone last night. But this is Jackson, a sex maniac, as far as she knows.

Azalea searched for her phone and grabbed it from the back of her bed. She checked the time, noticing how late it is. Nearly twelve in the afternoon, which is the worst time for anyone to use the showers.

Azalea sighed and went to their chat. He hadn't responded to her message last night. Azie shot him a glance and clicked her phone off. She wants to know why he reacted the way he did yesterday.

She bit her bottom lip and itched at her nose. Azie picked up her pillow and strode over to his bed. Now that she's thought about it, she's never actually seen him sleep before. He's always up before she is, so this is new.

Azalea rose the pillow above her head to hit him but froze. He's snoring lightly and now that she's closer to him she could see his knuckles, which is a bright red.

Had he been fighting? If so who? Then again nobody he meets has a problem with him. He's on tier with Jett Fogger. Being the person every college needs, whatever that means.

Azalea smacked him and he slightly jolted. "Wake up." After her simple attack she casually went back to her bed and took a seat.

Jackson stretched a yawn and sat up. His fingers combed through his hair and he yawned again. Jackson caught her stare and he squinted.

Azalea took in every detail of him—the messy bed hair, the tired eyes, that damn dimple that popped up every time the muscles in his face shifted, even just a little. Gosh, when did he get so good-looking?

"Were you in bed last night?" he asked, his voice pulling her out of her thoughts. Azalea blinked, her eyes finding his.

"What?" she replied, still a little caught off guard.

"My sheets weren't the way I left them," he said, a small frown on his face. He wouldn't admit that the real reason he asked was because his pillow smelled like her. But, damn, he wanted to know.

Azalea rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a half-smile. "That's ridiculous," she said, shaking her head.

Of course, she'd downplay it. Jackson didn't want to believe that he was just obsessing or imagining things. She had to have been in his bed—there was no other explanation.

"Sure," he said, clearing his throat, trying to shake the thought from his head. He swung his feet off the bed and stood up. The two of them locked eyes, the silence thick and heavy, like the night before—filled with something unspoken.

Why was she staring at him? Why was he staring at her? Azalea's gaze drifted down to his lips, and just as she did, Jackson—whether by accident or on purpose—licked his lips, the movement subtle but enough to make that damn dimple show.

Azalea found herself drawn in, her heart picking up a beat she didn't expect. But before she could even process it, Jackson stood up, and she quickly looked away, trying to hide the fact that her thoughts had completely derailed.

"Shoot what time is it?" She states, picking up her phone to check the time for distraction purposes. Jackson stretched another yawn and grabbed his shirt from the floor, tossing it over his head.

Azalea swallowed hard and snuck a glance at him. Why is she reacting this way? Why, after all this time, is she responding this way towards him, now?

It made zero sense to her that is happening. And she wants to know why. But, she's in denial, she wouldn't ask herself that question.

Then things went back to normal. It was like time had been rewinded and set to it's normal pace.

"Where were you last night?" She blurts out. Jackson shrugged, walking over to his mini closet.

"How do you not know?"

"What, were you worried or something?" He teases, looking back at her to flash that snarky grin of his.

"Yes actually. You were acting all weird after the stool stunt and then you didn't talk to me all day after that, practically disappearing. Then when I texted you, you didn't answer." She explains in one breath.

Jackson closed the closet after getting the things he needed.

"Got caught up with school work." He shrugs.

"We usually do work together under the tree or in here."

"I mean yeah but, eh, yesterday I felt like having alone time."

"Are you sure everything is okay? You don't act this way on a usual basis so it was a bit worrying and weird."

Jackson turned to her, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"I'm fine, babe. By the way, tomorrow's our day out, so be prepared, darling." He clicked his tongue, giving her a playful wink before walking out of the room. Azalea sat there for a moment, staring after him, shaking her head. Her eyes drifted over to his bed, and she felt her cheeks heat up.

"Were you in my bed last night?" she muttered to herself, a flush creeping up her neck.

Azalea instinctively grabbed her shirt and sniffed it, her eyes widening as she realized what she'd done. She quickly hid her face in her hands, cringing. "That was so stupid," she mumbled under her breath, unable to believe she'd just done that.