Blame It On The Pain Episode 47
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🧏 Blame It On The Pain FORTY SEVEN:
Shane nudges my hip as he leans in and whispers, “I thought you said he didn't want to talk to you?”
My eyes scan the bar before landing on Jackson. He's standing in the back playing a game of darts, by himself. Probably wishing it was my face that made up the board.
I exhale sharply as I take in the way his gray henley shirt stretches across his broad chest and outlines the muscles of his arms.
I force myself not to let my gaze drop to his faded blue jeans, which I have no doubt fit his a ss and strong thighs perfectly.
My eyes betray me anyway…and dmmit, I was right. They totally do.
“He doesn't.” I shrug. “He still hasn't said a word to me.”
And it's not like it's because the bar is so crowded or anything. We have a few customers, but there are plenty of seats at the bar.
Which he has yet to walk up to…because he still has yet to order a drink.
Which can only mean one thing. He's here to see me.
And he's been doing plenty of that because, over the last two hours, I've caught him stealing glances at me 32 different times now.
Make that 33.
Those gray eyes of his are burning into me yet again, heating my entire body with a single look.
The corners of his lips twitch. And that's when I know. He totally caught me checking him out just a second ago.
My mouth goes dry when his own eyes drop down, then slowly drag back up my body seductively, finally landing on my face. My brain fizzles.
The ‘this is your brain on drugs' warning, should also issue a ‘this is your brain when Jackson Reid looks at you like that,' warning.
“He's been here four nights in a row,” Shane says. “I don't understand why he won't speak to you. Want me to kick him out?”
“Absolutely not,” I reply.
Jackson might not be talking to me, but the fact that he's been here night after night watching me tells me something.
He still has feelings for me. Feelings that some part of him can't ignore.
Either that, or he wants to see if Ford will show up here. Maybe, see if I was telling him the truth the other day.
I knew I hurt him…but even I wasn't aware of just how much I hurt him until his drunken outburst happened and our last conversation took place.
I wish he would just let me explain everything…I know it won't be easy for him to hear, but for some reason, he won't let that happen.
“You gonna be okay to close up by yourself?” Shane asks while casting a look in Jackson's direction.
I glance at the clock, I didn't realize that it was time for last call already. “I'll be fine.”
We announce last call and Shane and the last few stragglers leave.
With the exception of Jackson…because I'm certainly not kicking him out. Plus, he'll have no choice but to speak to me if we're the only two people here.
I walk to the door and proceed to lock up and put the alarm on.
I'm wondering why Jackson doesn't leave when he sees me doing this, but he doesn't seem to care that I'm closing the bar.
I turn off the lights above the bar but make sure to keep the one on in the back where he is.
I walk over to him, my heart beating like a jackhammer the whole time.
“I like your hair,” he murmurs in my direction.
It's such a random statement, but I'll take it. I open my mouth to say thanks, but he gives me a hard look effectively silencing me.
His jaw ticks and he goes back to playing his game of darts. “I hate that you used me that night,” he says before throwing a dart at the board.
He hits a bullseye.
He pulls the dart out and takes a step back. “I hate that I watched the video.”
He throws another dart, bullseye.
TO Be Continued