Something Precious (Miami Stories Book 3) by Brooke St. James

Author:Brooke St. James [St. James, Brooke]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue House Press
Published: 2018-07-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I took a deep breath when I made it into my house. I started to text Jake right then, but I took a second to compose my thoughts and figure out what I wanted to say.

First, I needed to make sure that Preston was gone.

He had startled me by coming back, and it left me feeling like I needed to check and make sure he was gone for good. I couldn’t see the driveway from my living room window, so I went to my bedroom. The blinds were closed, but I stood close to the window, lifting one of them so that I could peek through.

Preston had already driven away. There were only three vehicles in the driveway, and none of them were his. I breathed a sigh, feeling relieved. I sat on the edge of my bed. My plan was to gather my wits for a few seconds so that I could send Jake a text.

My mind shot from here to there—my thoughts all over the place. I thought of Preston and the ice cream helmet. I thought of Bill and Jana, and the chocolate cake in the fridge.

Mostly, I thought of things they said about Jake. A whole stream of memories poured into my mind. The ripped photograph, the conversations Jake had with them, the conversation he had with me before the game—the way he had looked at me.

I thought back to our encounter.

He had said that I shouldn't put my face next to his face, and he was making a distinct expression—one I had never seen him make before. It was one Preston made all the time, but I had never seen Jake do it. Desire. It was like he wanted me. Did he want me? Maybe he didn't want me, want me… maybe not long-term. But in those seconds, he wanted me.

I tried to ignore the body language when it was happening—tried to tell myself that I was mistaken and that I was misreading him. But, even now, I remembered his countenance. I could picture his intensity. I knew he was looking at my mouth, not as a brother or a dad looks at your mouth, not as a friend looks at your mouth. He was regarding me like a man regarded a woman.

I didn't have time to appreciate it when it was happening. Heck, even if I had the time, I wouldn't have let myself hope that it was actually happening.

I sat there, feeling paralyzed.

I wanted so badly to call him, but I was scared to death. I wasn't scared of things changing between us—I was more scared of them not changing. After the look I saw on his face, and the way it made me completely lose any chemistry I had with Preston, I was terrified of things going back to normal with us. I feared there was a reason for the way Jake looked at me that afternoon—a perfectly good explanation as to why he had stared at me so intensely.

I sat on the foot of my bed, wanting to text him but unable to make myself do so.

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