Chapter 21: Get a Grip

He needed to feel that body he longed for against him. Letting go with one hand and sliding down to find her belt buckle, he unclipped it.

Sliding an arm around her waist, he pulled her into his body as best he could in the small confines of the car, pressing as much as he could have her to him hungrily.

Praying for seconds longer to enjoy this but feeling her start to lose the passion between them.

Her hands loosened their hold on his shirt, her kissing keeping time with his, but he could feel her reluctantly pulling back as her palms turned to his chest, and she gently started pushing him away.

Disappointment, anger, and heartbreak collided at once as he reluctantly pulled away from her and sat back, letting her go dramatically, unable to keep his emotions in check.

He looked at her with such devastation. “That’s exactly what I mean!” he bit out in pain. “This is your biggest enemy, Emma … not me.”

He tapped her temple with a finger, an extreme crushing pain in his chest as he watched her soft expression move back to cold defensive PA mode behind her safe barriers.

“Why did you do that?” she spat at him, both breathing hard and trying to regain composure. “To prove a point,” he snarled and turned away.

He had no point to prove, just longing to kiss her once more and feel everything he had felt once more to savor it.

Because deep down, he knew it would be the last fucking time. This was over.

“What point?” she asked him accusingly, anger and emotion all over that face. So confused.

He scrubbed his hands through his ruffled hair and sighed, grasping some sense of control and thinking he should just have gotten out and gone for a walk, but he didn’t.

“What does it matter?” His voice was deflated. He was deflated and tired.

He was giving up and just wanted to return to the boat and forget this day had ever started.

“Fuck you!” Emma screeched at him angrily, tears filling her eyes and shocking all the anger out of him.

She had never actually sworn at him while yelling like that, and he was rendered momentarily speechless.

He hadn’t ever seen Emma scream at him quite like that, in a complete emotional rage.

She turned, shoving the car door open, and was gone in a flash, storming away from the car. Impulsively, he followed in hot pursuit.

Guilt eating at him and an inability to ever just let her be upset, even if he was the cause. ~Fuck, fuck, fuck.~

He caught up in seconds as she stalked toward the road, pulling her back into him and spinning her around to face him, tear-stained and all, and it just hit him in the stomach like a punch.

He could never handle Emma crying; she rarely did it, and when she did, he felt like the biggest dickhead on the planet. He hated seeing her cry.

It wounded him in ways he could never explain.

She tried to fight him off, angrily sobbing, but he folded her into his embrace, pushing his face into her hair and cradling her so she couldn’t get away, trying to soothe her.

“I’m sorry … Emma, stop … Emma. I’m sorry.” His voice was raw and strained. She kept fighting but was losing against his sheer size and strength.

She was no match. He just held her close, stopping her outbursts and trying to cuddle her in until she finally began to slump and give up the effort.

Finally stilling in his arms, silently crying against him yet not cuddling him back. He knew if he let her go, she would still walk off.

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

His voice was quieter, closer to her ear, his crazy mood taking a new direction again and just trying to stop the stupidity between them.

No matter how he felt for her, above all, she was meant to be his friend, and friends didn’t hurt each other like this.

“I don’t want to fight either.” She swallowed a sob.

Slumping into him dejectedly, he could only hold her closer, that horrid feeling of sadness sweeping through him once more.

“Maybe we should go back to the boat.” He sounded tired. He was emotionally exhausted and physically tired from the events of the last twelve hours.

He had no fight left in him; right now, all he wanted to do was lie down and try to block all of this out of his head for a few hours.

“Maybe,” she whispered with a slight relief, and Jake just snapped at her easy agreement.

Losing his temper erratically for no obvious reason other than all of this just fucking sucked, and he wanted her to care more about it.

He couldn’t explain or control any of this anymore.

“No,” he snapped, surprising her and making her tense in his arms, looking up with a look of pure confusion.

~Fuck this shit… Fuck her and everything she did to him!~

He stalked to the car, quelling the urge to push her away from him, placing his hands on the hood to stop the angry energy surging through his entire body.

He needed to go to a gym and beat another boxing bag to death to get rid of it this time.

He glanced at the hood of the car and wondered how much damage he could inflict before his hands gave out.

“I can’t do this, Emma,” he snapped, his gaze steady on the hood of the low, sleek car.

He clenched a fist and went for a punch, stopping it millimeters from the hood and laying his palm back flat on the hot, sun-heated surface.

Deep breathing to try to curb every internal crazy impulse. “Do what?” Emma tried softly, keeping her distance and a little wary of his mood.

He tried to quell it some more for her sake.

“This! Us!” He waved his hand in an exasperated motion, turning back to her, looking at her with sheer frustration, and frowned.

“You drive me crazy … and not in a good way.” He sighed, facing the car again.

His body emanated all kinds of crazy signals, no doubt, but he had no control over all the crazy, messed-up emotions colliding from months of this hell with her.

“I do?” Her small, fragile voice sounded completely surprised.

She had no clue about the effect she had on him, which only strengthened the fact that she saw only friendship between them.

She was so innocent and naïve to what this was for him. ~Too angelic for words.~ He sighed again, and his face tensed.

“You frustrate me on so many levels.” He carried on, deflated again, just so fed up with everything that this was. “Sorry,” she murmured sarcastically.

He could tell she was probably rolling her eyes too, while he wanted to forget he ever met her.

He threw her an unamused look over his shoulder, seeing her look down to twiddle her fingers nervously, which only made him sigh.

Looking back at the car to get a grip on himself and reality, he began kicking at the solid rubber of the tire with his boot toe childishly, trying to distract his head from the urge to throw something.

He needed to self-calm.