Maggie-

The sun has almost disappeared signaling the end of the day, yet I've gotten hardly any work done. I'm still on the same book I picked up this morning after my brief tour. I've read the identical chapter at least twenty times, yet I still can't comprehend what's happening.

My mind insists on wandering to the other side of that wall. I nibble the end of my ballpoint pen as I gaze at the bare white wall in front of me. Though, it's not the wall that intrigues me. I wonder what Jackson's doing over there.

Is he staring back through the wall wondering about me as well? Or is he hard at work, chocolate-brown hair falling into his eyes while he writes his newest novel or prepares for winning a new award?

I brush my fingertips across my lips, gently caressing them, imagining how it would have felt if he hadn't pulled away. I can still smell the strong peppermint lingering in his breath, I can almost taste it.

I allow my eyes to close, and imagine the scene before me happening in slow motion. His large strong hand holding my wrist in place as he pulls me hard against his chest. Fireworks explode where his skin meets mine and trail rapidly through the rest of my body, igniting a fire everywhere at once.

The smell of peppermint lingers on his breath, his piercing diamond eyes gazing towards my lips longingly, causing my own gaze to fall lower. The shiny silver ring on his full lips begs me to taste its mixture of mint and metal.

A powerful warmth flushes through me and my pounding heart threatens to leap from my chest simply from reliving the memory.

I debate breaking down the damn wall that separates us until a sudden knock shatters my reverie.

I stand abruptly, accidentally knocking the simple black chair to the floor and watch Jackson enter my office before I've even had the chance to invite him in.

"You alright?" He asks, eyes lingering on the fallen chair and the panicked look in my eyes.

He walks in here unannounced looking like a damn God and I'm a flustered mess. The embarrassment quickly overshadows the heat from my earlier reverie and I feel a blush taint my cheeks.

"Yes, yes I- You just startled me is all." I attempt to wave it off and grab my office chair from the floor. The rapid rise and fall of my chest begins to calm as I sit back down and cover my face with my hands.

I'm being stupid.

"I thought I'd see if you needed a ride." He asks and I rush to reply.

"Yes!" I abruptly agree and straighten my posture with a sudden mix of excitement before my brain actually catches up and thinks it through. "Oh, wait. I'm sorry, I've already agreed to plans."

Jack's face falls slightly but he recovers quickly and offers a nod of acceptance. "Alright. I'll pick you up tomorrow at four then."

"Perfect." I bite the inside of my cheek, suddenly nervous. I'm not sure if I should hug him or just let him go. Jack stands in the doorway seeming to suffer the same dilemma, but before long he makes his choice.

"Have a good night." He remarks almost coldly before closing the door behind him.

"You too." I whisper, even though the door has already been shut.

I lean my head back in the chair, cursing myself for being so socially awkward around Jack. I wish there was a guide book for something like this, 'How to act around your ex after waking up from a coma.' I'd be the first to buy a copy.

Nick arrives within a few minutes later and quietly enters to find me with my forehead pressed firmly into my desk and my hands cradled over the back of my head.

"Rough day?" Nick asks and I straighten up quickly but a few manuscript pages remain plastered to my forehead.

"The worst." I complain as I peel the papers from my brow. I know I can't tell Nick what's bothering me, so I'm glad when he doesn't pry.

"Well buck up and meet me on the roof in ten minutes." He orders.

"What?" I have to double-check I've heard him correctly. "The roof? Aren't you taking me home?"

"You heard right." He says before turning to exit. "See you up there in ten."

"I'm not even sure I know how to get up there!" I shout after him but he simply laughs and continues walking away.

I wasn't exactly serious about attending a date, I primarily needed a ride home and I assumed he was kidding just as he was this morning.  Besides, what kind of date happens on the roof of an office building? Although, I've never heard of a date in a car either.

What have I gotten myself into?

I stall and take a deep breath, attempting to steady my nerves and forget my day with Jackson. I can't function with that man running amuck in my head.

I straighten my yellow floral dress and begin walking in the direction Nick was heading. I wander aimlessly through the dark halls, searching for any indications that I'm headed in the right direction until I find a door clearly labeled, 'Rooftop Exit.' I hesitate, half expecting an alarm to sound, but refer to Nick's earlier comment and 'buck up.'

At the top of a dimly lit stairwell lies the exit. I creak open the heavy door and I'm immediately enveloped in a gust of warm wind flowing through the thin fabric of my yellow dress.

I half expected to be greeted with a cool breeze, but I should have known better. In Phoenix, the temperatures are at least mid-eighties even at midnight during summer nights.

The stars shine bright in the vast sky, and I allow a few seconds for my eyes to adjust before I find Nick reclining on a faded blue tarp waiting for me to arrive.

I walk in his direction, nervously avoiding the short concrete barrier that's our only protection from a fifteen-story drop. I'm thanking God I wore flats today.

"Afraid of heights?" Nick asks as he eyes over my trembling knees.

"Sort of." I shrug still making my way carefully across the rooftop to his tarp. "I'm afraid of jumping."

I'm a little embarrassed that I've just admitted that out loud and hope he doesn't think I'm suicidal.

"It's not that I'm suicidal or anything I just-" I start before he cuts me off.

"L'appel du vide," Nick offers and I start wondering if he's trying to seduce me by speaking french. "The French call it, 'the call of the void' but it's really called Catapedaphobia."

"Are you French or something?" I ask as I finally reach him and look down at the dirty blue tarp. I debate just squatting, wondering if I'll ruin my dress by sitting in the filth.

"Nope. You wouldn't believe all the random shit I know. Champagne?" Nick offers and I realize there are no glasses, only two slim yet tall bottles.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" I tease, but the thought does linger. Jackson said it would be easy to manipulate me with my state of mind, but I can imagine even easier with a little liquor.

Jackson. Damn it, can't I think of anything else?

"Maybe." Nick starts. "If I recall correctly, it's not hard to get you drunk."

I finally give in and sit cross-legged next to him. I tuck my dress in front of me, sure to not expose too much too soon, and grab the bottle he's holding to examine it.

"Oh yes, 2017, a great year." I tease, pretending I know anything about wine in the first place.

"2017 Inniskillin Riesling, it's an ice-wine." He offers as I examine the thin tall bottle with yellow liquid swirling inside the glass. He rolls his eyes before answering the question I've been mulling over in my head. "It's a sweet wine."

My eyes meet his briefly as a sudden realization occurs, he must know I hate dry wine. It's so odd how everything about him is new to me, yet he seems to know me pretty well. I suppose if past me trusted him, what's the harm?

"Alright, open the damn thing." I concede and nervously watch him pop open both bottles.

He hands one of the thin bottles back to me and I immediately take a swig, careful not to drip on my gown. I don't know why I bother being so cautious, dirt has already covered the entire backside of my dress, which more than likely won't come out in the wash.

The cool liquid streams past my open lips and grazes my tongue. I'm surprised when I find myself enjoying the sweet white so much that I tip it further for seconds. I notice a smile play across his lips as he watches me take another sip.

"Are you sure we won't get in trouble for doing this?" The thought briefly crosses my mind and anxiety waves over me, fighting the soothing warmth flowing through me from alcohol.

"I'm always up here, don't worry about it." He shrugs and wipes a dirty blonde strand of hair from his eyes.

"That doesn't make it okay." I argue. "It just means you haven't been caught."

"Cheers to that." He holds his bottle up and I reluctantly tap it with mine, still concerned with the legality of this date. "We haven't finished our twenty-one questions."

"I think it was your turn." I nod and take another swig.

"Alright." He starts. "What were you like in high school?"

"I thought you said no lame questions?" My voice drips with sarcasm.

"It's not like asked what your favorite color was." He counters. "Answer the question."

"Fine." I shrug. "I was normal I guess."

"That's not an answer, were you in the popular clique? Nerds, Preps, Jocks? Don't tell me you were a Goth." He teases.

I can't imagine it matters in the slightest what social standing I was in high school. Despite my reluctance to judging others, I glance down at his fancy suit that's now covered in dust and the diamond watch on his wrist and immediately bet he was from a well-to-do family. The judgment passes before I can think twice and I assume he must have been a jock.

My nose scrunches with slight irritation. "I wasn't anything."

"So you were a loner?" He asks and I slap his arm taking another swig. I'm not sure I want to get into my childhood, but he's going to keep pushing.

"My mother was very strict, I couldn't so much as sneeze without her permission. However, I wasn't alone. I had Bethany and my books. What about you?" Slightly uncomfortable, I attempt to sway the spotlight in his direction.

"I would have been a straight nerd if I wasn't the running-back of Coldwater High School." He admits, unable to conceal his pride. "I actually wanted to join the Mathletes, but my dad wanted his All-American boy to play football."

I resist the urge to say 'I knew it' or to ask him if he's one of those men who lives in the glory days of high school. Instead, I sympathize.

"Believe it or not, I can understand that feeling." I sigh and lean back on my palms to look out at the evening sky.

"You liked math?" He asks skeptically.

"Oh hell no." I assert. "I understand the pressure of parents, that's all."

"Got it." He nods and doesn't push further. I'm assuming he felt my desperate plea to avoid the topic.

We sit in a quiet peace for a few moments. Random and simple questions guide the evening, and it feels relatively dull compared to this morning's date. Lounging on the roof is relaxing, and all appears well before he introduces a topic I've been avoiding.

"How are you feeling about Jackson?" He asks and I immediately take another swig of my bottle, letting the warmth envelop me and fog my mind. "That bad, huh?"

I can't help but laugh at his question and a little Riesling slides down my chin. Before I can wipe my mouth I feel his thumb gently graze my chin, cleansing it of the little droplets that managed to escape my grasp.

The simple gesture startles me and my head snaps in his direction. The sudden movement activates the half bottle of wine I've drunk, fogging my mind so that I almost lose my balance. Nick's free hand moves to my arm to steady me and a brief look of concern washes over his face.

"I forgot it's been a while since you've had anything to drink. A full bottle of wine was probably too much." Nick states his concern and I don't fail to notice his hand rubbing gingerly up and down on my arm.

His emerald eyes wander to my lips just as they had this morning and my mind is immediately conflicted. If I allow him to kiss me, maybe I'll forget all about Jackson.

Maybe my body is wrong. Maybe all of the tingles and breathless signs my body gives when Jack's around are simply warning signs. The true prince charming could be right here in front of me, but I haven't given him a real chance because the old me was infatuated with lust.

Nick's the complete opposite of Jack. He's kind, warm, fun, clearly wealthy, and from a good family. He's effortless and easy. That's what he is, the easy option. I'd never have to worry about being broken or betrayed, life would be effortless.

Damn it.

I curse myself for even thinking of Jack.  I've got a kind, gentle, prince charming right here in front of me who's ready to kiss me.  Yet my only recourse is to think of Jackson Porter, he just lingers there in my mind always-

My thoughts are momentarily broken as Nick's lips collide with mine. I guess he didn't have to deliberate the action as thoroughly as I did.

My mind quiets, thoughts of Jackson momentarily dissipate as his soft warm lips move with mine.  Our kiss is slow at first but quickly picks up speed. My lips part slightly as his hands roam through my sun-kissed locks and his tongue slides in my mouth tasting of recently chewed winter-fresh gum.

My body goes through the motions, moving in sync with his and reaching to thread my fingers through his hair but my mind is completely disconnected.

I must be broken.

My fingers grip his dirty blonde hair tighter, pulling him closer until I've crawled onto his lap. My legs are on either side of him, straddling him and paying no mind to the fact that I'm in a short dress.

Nick is caught off-guard by my sudden dominance, but he quickly catches on and grips my hips to guide our hasty movements and hungry kisses.

I'm desperate to feel even the slightest tingle, for my heart to skip a beat the way it did as Jackson's diamond eyes simply wandered to my lips. The way fireworks shot through my skin at the briefest touch, the very magnet that alerted me to his presence.

Nothing.

Just warm bodies moving in sync to each other, sharing warm kisses between soft lips but absolutely no emotional connection.

Nick's hand drifts up underneath my dress and begins caressing my hip, but the moment his hands start to explore, I'm done seeking the elusive thrill.

"Nick, I can't." I pull away to whisper but Nick's lips continue trailing up my neck into the nook of my jaw. "Stop!"

His movements freeze and I'm relieved he's heard me. Still straddling him, I press my forehead into his shoulder and let out a relieved sigh.

"I'm sorry. I like you, it's just-" I can't tell him this is all because I care for Jackson. "I'm just not ready."

I realize his movements are still frozen and after a few seconds, I lift my head to examine his face. He hasn't moved or said a solitary word since my confession.

My eyes follow his gaze to the shadow lurking behind us and find Jackson standing idle by the rooftop door.

Shit.