Cordelia pulled away from the liquor store feeling quite a bit guilty, but was in a rush to get home. She contemplated her decision the rest of the drive home, but tried to shrug it off. With her little display of emotion she had just had, she felt as if she had earned a drink…or two…to drown her sorrows in.
Cordelia pulled sloppily into her spot at her apartment and cut the engine. She sat in her car trying to regain some composure. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and took in a deep breath slowly, forcing her heart rate to return to a somewhat normal pace. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the seat. ‘Why…’ she thought to herself. She couldn’t figure out why she had let loose and cried in front of Jackson.
After several moments of thought over her embarrassing encounter with Jackson, she finally reached over and grabbed her oversize black purse and bottle of vodka and headed to her front door. As she reached the front door, she heard footsteps coming up quickly behind her. Her heart began to pound and she fumbled with the keys to unlock the door before the assailant could catch up to her.
She struggled to get the key in the lock, but it slipped out of her hand and her keys landed on the ground. She heard the footsteps coming up the steps right behind her. She took in a deep breath, ready to turn around push the guy down the four stone steps. Upon feeling a hand on her shoulder, she screamed and twirled around quickly, backing up against her door, “JAX! What are you doing?”
Jackson laughed, “Wow, you’re jumpy!” He had a big smile on his face. Cordelia, angry that he had scared her so much, balled up her fist and punched him hard in his arm, making him laugh harder.
“You punch like a chick,” he said between laughs, “I’m…I’m sorry,” he said catching his breath, “but you left so quickly, I was afraid something was seriously wrong and I had to make sure you were okay.”
“So you followed me home?” Cordelia said, half shouting at him. He shrugged and continued to smile. Cordelia stood there not really sure what her next move should be, she was so mad at him for scaring her like he had. But…his smile was just so…charming. She couldn’t help but let herself relax when she was in his presence.
“What was that all about, Delia?” he asked in a concerned tone, “why did you break down like that?”
“I…it…its just ghosts from the past haunting me,” She said. She bent down to retrieve her keys, then unlocked the door and pushed it open, “you really should get home to Elle,” she suggested to him, hoping he would leave and quite probing into her past.
“I think Elle will understand,” he said, “we obviously need to talk.”
“No…we don’t. Plus she’ll be mad if you don’t get home to her.” Cordelia pushed.
“No, I called her, she’s fine,” Jackson said smirking.
Cordelia rolled her eyes, “fine. Do you want to come in?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said following her into her surprisingly spacious apartment. It looked cozy, definitely like a woman resided there. There were colorful paintings on the walls, no doubt most of them had been her work.
There was a second-hand bright blue and green plaid couch and loveseat and a shelf full of books. The coffee table also looked to be second-hand, but the table top had been painted with an interesting blue and white design…also her work. On it sat a Van Gogh art book and a book of black and white photographs.
“Can I get you anything?” Cordelia asked as she hung her keys on a hook behind the door. She dropped her purse on the floor by the door and immediately began trying to straighten up the already neat room.
Jackson didn’t say a word to that; he just walked up to her and grabbed her wrist, leading her over to the couch. “You can tell me what’s going on,” he urged again.
Cordelia sat in silence with her lips pursed for a moment then, “I think I’ll have a drink,” she said, popping right back up.
To Be Cont.
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