being the subject of his fixation.
Brynn grabbed onto Chet. I had mixed feelings about grabbing the possible stealth kisser Drew, and managed not to until Jason came rushing for us. I screamed and tried to pull Drew with me to the other side of the fence, but he stood there, frozen in place. Great. The guy who was supposed to be protecting me was a pansy. And I wasn’t sticking around to get attacked with him, even if the attack wasn’t real.
I ran to the other side of the fence, leaving Drew by himself. Jason had the chainsaw right above Drew’s head. At first Drew tried to keep it cool, but as the chainsaw lowered more and more, Drew’s fight or flight response kicked in and he eventually ran away, too. Now Brynn, Chet, and Drew were all by the exit and I was alone, on the other side of the enclosure. And really, really pissed. I wasn’t going to be terrorized by a fictional character wielding a fake weapon while my date, best friend, and her alleged big dick scampered away. Some protector Drew had been. He had one job and didn’t do it.
Annoyed, I narrowed my eyes and I started to march past Jason. He stalked toward me, pushing me back toward the fence—the last place I wanted to be trapped. Fake chainsaw and fake Jason notwithstanding, the actor still played the part well, and it was hard to be ballsy when I was being detained by a nightmare.
He stood back, holding the chainsaw in front of me, blocking my path. Every time I tried to move, he blocked me again. Finally, I’d had enough. “This is ridiculous,” I said, pushing past him. He grabbed my arm and I swiveled my head in his direction, looking first at my arm, then at him. I’d had friends work as actors in haunted houses. The number one rule was not to touch the attendees. I shifted my eyes up to meet his. They were indiscernible dots through the mask. “Let me go,” I hissed.
The voice that answered was muffled through the mask, but held a familiar, deep tone. The words he spoke were unmistakable, “Not a chance, sweetheart.”
I had one question plaguing me. The same question that had been running through my head all weekend.
Had Jackson West kissed me in a dark, haunted mine? And if he had, was it creepy, or romantic? I couldn’t decide.
I went over the facts—again. The strawberry flavor left on my lips after the kiss had reminded me distinctly of the strawberry candy Jax had popped in his mouth when he fixed the overflow on She-Ra. But a lot of things smelled and tasted like strawberries—including the actual berries—and a lot of people ate strawberries, too. Based on that, I didn’t feel like there was a big enough connection.
Jason’s voice had sounded a lot like Jax’s, but he was wearing a mask, and the voice was hard to distinguish. And the “sweetheart” tacked onto the end of the conversation was a word he’d used in place of my name before. Sweetheart was a pretty common term of endearment, however, so between that and the muffled voice, I had enough uncertainty to drive me nuts with curiosity about whether or not it had actually been Jax. My gut didn’t have any questions, though. My gut told me Jackson West had full-on kissed me—and it had been fantastic. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that revelation. Admitting it even to myself was scary.
I’d gone over and over the night in my head all weekend. Number one, Jax as an actor in a haunted house seemed…odd. I just didn’t cast him as the acting type. Football, wrestling, hell, even baseball, I could see, but drama as an extracurricular? It seemed completely out of character. But maybe I didn’t know him well enough to make that judgment. And if he was that good at drama, no wonder he thought highly of himself in bed. He probably knew quite a bit about role-playing. I got lost in thoughts of that, and the scenes from my fantasies that he could probably act out like a true thespian, before I shook myself out of it and went on to my
Brynn grabbed onto Chet. I had mixed feelings about grabbing the possible stealth kisser Drew, and managed not to until Jason came rushing for us. I screamed and tried to pull Drew with me to the other side of the fence, but he stood there, frozen in place. Great. The guy who was supposed to be protecting me was a pansy. And I wasn’t sticking around to get attacked with him, even if the attack wasn’t real.
I ran to the other side of the fence, leaving Drew by himself. Jason had the chainsaw right above Drew’s head. At first Drew tried to keep it cool, but as the chainsaw lowered more and more, Drew’s fight or flight response kicked in and he eventually ran away, too. Now Brynn, Chet, and Drew were all by the exit and I was alone, on the other side of the enclosure. And really, really pissed. I wasn’t going to be terrorized by a fictional character wielding a fake weapon while my date, best friend, and her alleged big dick scampered away. Some protector Drew had been. He had one job and didn’t do it.
Annoyed, I narrowed my eyes and I started to march past Jason. He stalked toward me, pushing me back toward the fence—the last place I wanted to be trapped. Fake chainsaw and fake Jason notwithstanding, the actor still played the part well, and it was hard to be ballsy when I was being detained by a nightmare.
He stood back, holding the chainsaw in front of me, blocking my path. Every time I tried to move, he blocked me again. Finally, I’d had enough. “This is ridiculous,” I said, pushing past him. He grabbed my arm and I swiveled my head in his direction, looking first at my arm, then at him. I’d had friends work as actors in haunted houses. The number one rule was not to touch the attendees. I shifted my eyes up to meet his. They were indiscernible dots through the mask. “Let me go,” I hissed.
The voice that answered was muffled through the mask, but held a familiar, deep tone. The words he spoke were unmistakable, “Not a chance, sweetheart.”
I had one question plaguing me. The same question that had been running through my head all weekend.
Had Jackson West kissed me in a dark, haunted mine? And if he had, was it creepy, or romantic? I couldn’t decide.
I went over the facts—again. The strawberry flavor left on my lips after the kiss had reminded me distinctly of the strawberry candy Jax had popped in his mouth when he fixed the overflow on She-Ra. But a lot of things smelled and tasted like strawberries—including the actual berries—and a lot of people ate strawberries, too. Based on that, I didn’t feel like there was a big enough connection.
Jason’s voice had sounded a lot like Jax’s, but he was wearing a mask, and the voice was hard to distinguish. And the “sweetheart” tacked onto the end of the conversation was a word he’d used in place of my name before. Sweetheart was a pretty common term of endearment, however, so between that and the muffled voice, I had enough uncertainty to drive me nuts with curiosity about whether or not it had actually been Jax. My gut didn’t have any questions, though. My gut told me Jackson West had full-on kissed me—and it had been fantastic. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that revelation. Admitting it even to myself was scary.
I’d gone over and over the night in my head all weekend. Number one, Jax as an actor in a haunted house seemed…odd. I just didn’t cast him as the acting type. Football, wrestling, hell, even baseball, I could see, but drama as an extracurricular? It seemed completely out of character. But maybe I didn’t know him well enough to make that judgment. And if he was that good at drama, no wonder he thought highly of himself in bed. He probably knew quite a bit about role-playing. I got lost in thoughts of that, and the scenes from my fantasies that he could probably act out like a true thespian, before I shook myself out of it and went on to my
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