MIA

"Is it a crime to be full already?" Jackson asked, rubbing his stomach playfully as he sighed dramatically. We were standing outside the café, and I couldn't help but notice how dark the sky had gotten.

"Maybe next time don't eat so many pancakes at once," I teased. But he didn't seem to hear me, his gaze fixed on the stars above.

"So, where to next?" I squeezed his hand-the one he'd been holding since we left the café-trying to draw his attention back to me. It worked. He hummed, swinging our joined hands as he led us toward his car.

"You know I'm not telling you," he said with a grin. "But it shouldn't be a surprise when you see it."

"Have I been there before?" I asked as he opened the passenger door for me.

"I sure hope not." His grin widened as I slid into the passenger seat.

He closed the door, and before I could even process the comment, he was in the driver's seat, starting the engine.

The drive was quiet, except for the soft hum of the radio. Twenty minutes passed, and I was dying to ask, too focused on the warmth of his hand in mine and the way he effortlessly steered with the other were distraction enough.

Watching him drive with one hand was... a point for me. Not just any guy could pull that off. Jackson, of course, did it perfectly.

His eyes stayed glued to the road, his focus unwavering, and somehow, that was attractive. Okay, very attractive. His touch, the quiet hum of the car, the way he exuded this calm confidence-it was all driving me to the edge.

Finally, he pulled into a parking lot and stopped the car.

"We're here," he said, turning to me with a hopeful smile. "Hope you like it?"

I looked out the window and blinked.

Bright lights and colorful bulbs glowed against the night sky as the cheerful sound of rides and laughter filled the air. A carnival.

Families and couples wandered from booth to booth, many holding cotton candy or stuffed animals.

"So..." Jackson said, watching me intently. "What do you think?"

I realized he was waiting for my opinion and turned back to him, his eagerness shining in his eyes.

"I think," I said slowly, "that if you hadn't brought me here, I'd be seriously questioning your date-planning skills."

His smile was instant, lighting up his face. "Guess that means I get a point for doing well." He leaned closer. "I deserve a kiss, don't I?"

I scoffed. "When I win the bet, then you'll get your kiss."

"Then I hope I lose," he said, his voice dropping. "Because I really want to kiss you, Mia."

Sweet mother of mercy. My pulse jumped at his words, and I swallowed hard.

"Let's go, lover boy," I said quickly, pushing open my door before my face turned any redder. I ignored the smirk I knew he was wearing as I slammed the door shut behind me.

Jackson followed, catching up to me as we headed toward the carnival entrance. It's one thing to crush on a guy and imagine all these moments in your head, but when he actually says stuff like that? Game over.

He stopped in front of me and took my hand again, his touch grounding me. "Ready?"

"Ready," I managed, trying not to combust as he led me into the sea of people.

The crowd was bigger than I liked, and for a second, I thought about suggesting we leave. But the excitement in his eyes stopped me.

"You love carnivals, don't you?" I asked playfully.

"They're fun," he said with a shrug. "But I love you more. That's why I'm excited to be here... with you."

Once again: Sweet. Mother. Of. Mercy.

He looked away as if he hadn't just said something that made my heart sprint. I pressed my lips together, holding back a stupid grin.

"Uh..." He cleared his throat and pointed to nearby cotton candy stand. "Let's go there."

I nodded, too flustered to say much.

We wove through the crowd, his grip tightening on my hand every time someone bumped into us. Finally, we stopped at the stand, and I watched as the vendor spun a cone into a fluffy pink cloud.

"Looks like someone's drooling," he teased.

I instinctively wiped at my mouth before realizing he was joking. I shot him a glare. "Not funny."

He chuckled, handing me the cotton candy. "Pick a flavor, and we'll call it even."

"Strawberry," I said, giving in.

He chuckled, ordering a strawberry-flavored one for me. When the pink fluff was handed over, I couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, love."

I froze slightly at the nickname, my cheeks heating. "I... I think like that."

"Like what?"

"When you call me 'love' I like it."

The playful glint in his eyes softened, replaced with something warmer-something that made my breath catch.

"You make it so hard, Mia," he murmured, his voice low. "So hard."

Oh my-

Before I could process what was happening, his hand brushed my cheek, and for a second, I thought he might actually kiss me. My eyes fluttered shut on instinct, but instead of his lips, I felt the heat of his breath by my ear.

"But as much as I want to..." his voice was a whisper, "I'm not losing this bet."

My eyes snapped open to find him grinning wickedly.

What the-?

I shoved him back, his laughter echoing as he tried to steady himself. A few people turned to stare, and I wished the ground would swallow me whole.

"Not funny," I grumbled, storming off.

"Mia, wait!"

I ignored him, walking faster, my pride refusing to let me stop. When I finally glanced over my shoulder, he was gone.

Panic flared in my chest, but before I could call his name, a hand grabbed mine, pulling me into a quiet corner. I gasped, ready to scream, until I saw who it was.

Jackson.

He caged me against the wall, his hands braced on either side of me. "Why did you run?"

"I didn't," I said, refusing to meet his gaze. "I walked away."

He rolled his eyes. "Same thing. But why?"

"You were teasing me," I muttered, my eyes fixed on his chest. "I didn't like it."

""But you did the same thing at the café earlier," he reminded me, his tone light but probing. "I thought we were playing a teasing game."

We were, but I didn't like this version of it.

I wanted to say that, but it felt too childish-too vulnerable-so I kept the words locked inside. Instead, I focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest, my gaze lingering on the space between us. My body betrayed me, aching to close the distance, to lean into him and feel the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat.

He let out a soft sigh, and before I could decipher the meaning behind it, his forehead touched mine. The gesture was so intimate, so grounding, it froze my thoughts. His voice dropped into a murmur, warm and achingly close.

"Can't believe I'll miss this side of you... when I leave."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. A lump rose in my throat, and my heart tightened, grief blooming in my chest. He was right-I knew he was. When he leaves, it won't just be the teasing I'll miss. It'll be him. All of him. The playful smirks, the fleeting touches, the way he always found a way to push me out of my comfort zone.

But how do you tell someone you'll miss them before they're even gone?

After a few seconds, he shifted back but not too much because he was still close to me. Then I felt His hand gently lifted my chin until I had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes were softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something deeper, something that made my stomach flip.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice low. "I didn't mean to upset you, Mia. I just... I like seeing you flustered. You're cute when you're mad."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the words stuck in my throat. The intensity of his gaze made it impossible to think straight. I wasn't sure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

"Can I make it up to you?" he asked, his lips quirking into a small smile.

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest in a weak attempt to seem unaffected. "Depends. What do you have in mind?"

He stepped back, giving me room to breathe. I immediately missed the warmth of his presence but refused to let it show. "Follow me," he said, grabbing my free hand and tugging me out of the dark corner and back into the bustling carnival crowd.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep up with his long strides.

"You'll see," he said, the excitement in his tone making it impossible for me to stay annoyed.

We weaved through the crowd, past booths with dart games and spinning wheels, until we stopped in front of a booth with a large, plush panda sitting on the top shelf. It was enormous, easily twice the size of any other prize around it.

Jackson glanced at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You like pandas, right?"

I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped. "Who doesn't like pandas? But there's no way you're winning that. Those games are rigged."

"Challenge accepted," he said, rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a battle.

The game was simple-knock down three stacks of milk bottles with a baseball. The catch? The bottles were heavier than they looked, and the balls seemed lighter than they should've been. Jackson handed over some cash to the booth worker and picked up a ball, testing its weight in his hand.

"You're going to lose," I teased, leaning against the booth. "But good luck."

He smirked. "Your lack of faith in me is heartbreaking, love. Watch and learn."

The first throw was close but didn't take down the entire stack. Jackson narrowed his eyes, clearly determined. By the third ball, he managed to knock down all three stacks, the final bottle tipping over with a dramatic clang.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in victory. He turned to me, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. "Told you I could do it."

The booth worker handed him the panda, which he immediately offered to me. "For you, my skeptical beautiful critic."

I took the panda, hugging it to my chest. It was softer than I expected, and the gesture made my heart do an embarrassing little flip. "Okay, fine. I'm impressed," I admitted. "But don't let it go to your head."

"Oh, it's already there," he said, his grin widening. "Now, what's my reward?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Reward? I thought the panda was for me."

"It is," he said, leaning in slightly. "But I think I deserve a little something for all that hard work."

"Jackson-"

Before I could finish, he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek, then pulled back with a smirk. "That'll do-for now."

I stared at him, torn between annoyance and the overwhelming urge to kiss him back. Instead, I tightened my grip on the panda and muttered, "You're impossible."

"And you love it," he said, grabbing my hand again. "Now, let's go find more ways for me to impress you and get my kiss."

"I don't need you to impress me," I wanted to say, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I thought them over and over, louder with every breath.

I don't need you to be funny or charming or perfect. I just want you to stay. I want you to never leave.

●●●

Tears and more Tears.