Misbehaving(68)

Oh. My heart did that flutter thing again, and my hands on his chest turned into fists to keep from pawing at him in appreciation. It had taken me fighting back, but he had put me first in the end. That was almost as good as being picked first. It would have been better if he’d chosen my wishes over hers without my having to threaten him with another guy.

The fluttering stopped. When I realized how I had won this battle, it took away all the joy. He had originally chosen her. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, but he’d been okay hurting me.

“I won’t go with Dewayne. Take her to the cotillion. It’s what you originally wanted to do. I played dirty, and I shouldn’t have,” I said, shifting to move off his lap. I needed some space.

Jason grabbed my waist and held me there. “It’s not what I wanted to do,” he said. “It’s what was right. She didn’t deserve to be ditched at the last minute.”

He still didn’t get it. I nodded. “Take her. You don’t want to hurt her.”

I could feel him studying me, but I wouldn’t look at him. I just wanted to go home and lock myself in my room. I could cry then and no one would see me. “I don’t like hurting people in general,” he said slowly, as if he was trying to figure out the meaning behind my words.

“I know. You’re a better person than I am. Actually, than most people I know. You’re thoughtful and kind. It’s one of the things that I find so insanely attractive about you.”

Jason moved his thumbs so that they brushed my stomach in a gentle caress. “Then why won’t you look at me?” he asked.

Because you didn’t choose me first. Those words sounded shallow, yet they kept repeating in my head. I wish it wasn’t important to me. I wish my self-esteem was better and that kind of thing wasn’t a weakness of mine.

“This morning has been intense, and I just want to go back to sleep,” I told him, forcing myself to look at him so he wouldn’t push that issue.

Jason reached up and took my chin between his thumb and forefinger so I couldn’t look away. “You aren’t telling me something.” He sounded frustrated.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll be okay. Just give me some time to deal with my own insecurities. I’m working on them,” I explained, trying to sound flippant.

“I never want to make you feel insecure. If I have to dedicate my life to making sure you know where you stand with me, I will. So don’t give me that shit. If you have something to deal with, tell me. I’ll fix it.”

He couldn’t fix this. He didn’t realize that it had already been done. His immediate impulse was to protect Johanna. Not me.

I wondered if he had loved her. If he had ever told her he loved her. I loved him, but he hadn’t told me he loved me. Maybe that was it. He didn’t love me but he had loved her. She had that hold on him. I started to move again, wanting to get away from him, but he continued to hold me still.

“Talk to me, Jess. Please,” he begged.

“You had to choose, and you chose her. When pressed for an answer, you chose her feelings over mine. Nothing that happened after that matters. Because it was after I manipulated you.” I stopped and looked out the window because I couldn’t stand looking at him while I admitted this. “I wanted to be your fist choice, so I forced you to pick me. It was wrong. I don’t want you to put me first because I use your jealousy against you. I want you to think of me first because it’s the way you feel. I’m tired of trying to be someone’s first choice. I’ve done that, and I’m exhausted. I won’t do it anymore. I just won’t.” Jason’s grip on me loosened, and I used that opportunity to get off his lap and put some space between us. I didn’t look back at him, and I didn’t say anything else.

He had wanted me to talk, and now that I had he had nothing to say. I wished I could reach the button so I could let the driver know to take me home. I wanted out of this car. I wanted to run until I couldn’t run anymore.

“I didn’t realize it hurt you. You acted like it wasn’t a big deal,” he said in a pained voice.

“Really? That’s what you’re going with?” I asked angrily. “If I were to go to a dance with a guy friend because I had promised him I would and you knew his hands would be touching me while we danced, just how would you feel? Would you be okay with that?”

He didn’t reply. I knew he couldn’t honestly tell me he would be fine with it. When I had thrown it back in his face, he had cracked. So how could he say that he didn’t think it would bother me?