A month. It has been a whole month since I walked away from Jackson, and I've heard nothing from him. I have to confess that I've become a bit of an obsessive fan girl, scouring the blogs and fan sites for information about both the band and him. Blackfriars made the announcement last week that the band was taking a break, and, in the pictures, Jackson looks happy and smiley, so I can only hope that he's okay. I, however, have become a mopey bitch. Even Sophie, who is finally back from her travels, had a go at me last week, attempting to get me to tell her what was going on. I tried going home with a random guy from the bar last night, but I only made it as far as his front door before the pit of vipers in my stomach made me turn around and make my excuses.
I wipe down the bar top morosely, briefly contemplating bailing on my shift and heading back to my bed. It's not like the bar is particularly busy but I have a feeling, however, that if I do, Finn will only come up and drag me out of it. Gah.
Just then Sophie breezes in looking far too chirpy for words in her yellow sundress, with her blonde hair braided down her back. Although we are both blondes, hers has the sun-kissed glow from being in sunnier climates whilst mine comes courtesy of Franco from the salon in the building. "Are we any cheerier today?" she asks with a sly grin. One that I am now itching to slap off her. She knows there is something wrong and is doing her best to wheedle and nettle me in the way only little sisters can to try and get it out of me. But I am not budging.
"Nope, she is still being a mardy-arse," Devon chips in over my shoulder. "Hi, Sophie," he greets her, and I catch him winking at her.
"Oh, fuck off the both of you. I am going out the back," I throw over my shoulder as I stalk through to the office. I hear them both laughing, and it grates on my nerves. But at the same time, it warms my heart a little bit. Every day this week Soph has brought in her laptop and sat in the bar working on the articles from her trip and I have noticed the two of them flirting a little. I like Devon, and I think he could be really good for her, so I'm just going to see how it plays out. One of us should be happy, right?
I bury myself in payroll and the accounts in an effort to distract myself. Having to concentrate on making the numbers add up takes all my concentration, and after a couple of hours, I realise that for the first time in a month, I have gone more than five minutes without thinking about Jackson. The idea that my infatuation may be waning gives me a glimmer of hope. Just then, my stomach starts to growl, so I head to the kitchen and ask our chef, Lucas, for a burger which he promises to send out as soon as it's ready.
I slip behind the bar to grab a juice and then scout around for Sophie so that we can catch up whilst I eat. I swear I must be delusional because as my gaze roams the nearly-empty bar, I see Jackson eating a grilled cheese sandwich at the booth he was sitting in that first night. I blink and then blink again. Nope, he is still there. I know he has spotted me as his posture has stiffened slightly, but other than that he doesn't look in my direction at all. I guess he is waiting for me to make the first move. I briefly consider hiding in the office until he is gone, but that won't resolve anything. Instead, I take a deep breath trying to steady my nerves and head across to Jackson's table.
"What are you doing here, Jackson?" I ask, keeping my voice deliberately low as I can already see that this interaction has sparked Sophie's interest. Her eyes are practically bugging out of her head as she watches me.
"Eating. What does it look like?" Jackson retorts with a smirk that seems to be a deliberate attempt to rile me up.
"Well, there are plenty of other places. Why here?" I ask, struggling to keep the tremors out of my voice.
"I hear the grilled cheese sandwiches rock. So, if you don't mind, I'll get back to it." A lock of dark hair falls across his brow as Jackson leans forward to take a bite of his sandwich and I physically ache to run my fingers through it.
I am being dismissed, but I stare at him for a moment longer accepting defeat. "Bye, Jackson," I say softly.
I make my way across to Sophie and slide into the booth beside her. "Not a word," I murmur and for once in her life she actually listens to me. I remain hyper-aware of every move Jackson makes as he finishes his meal, pays the bill, and then leaves without a backward glance. The moment he steps out the door, though, I crumble and lay my head on the table, letting the tears fall silently down my face. It's official, my heart is breaking, and there isn't a damn thing anyone can do about it.