Just Jilted

by Lila James

  “Jackson! Today, please!” Just Katerina shrieked.

  “I should get going,” Jackson said, walking toward Just Katerina backward. “If we can’t make it for dinner tonight, we all should hang out at some point this weekend.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that!” Laurence called after him.

  I watched as Jackson made his way back to Just Katerina, slinging his arm around her shoulders as he led her back into the lodge. We? He referred to himself and Just Katerina as “we?”

  “She doesn’t hold a candle to you, sweetheart,” Mom said, patting my arm. “Did you notice he only had eyes for you the whole time we were talking?”

  “Mom, please. I couldn’t care less whom he comes here with. And he was only focused on me because you two were tripping all over yourselves to suck up to him,” I said, but I did feel a small sense of relief that I couldn’t quite understand. I headed over to the car to help Laurence unload our suitcases.

  Luckily, I was in a separate room on a separate floor from Mom and Laurence. The thought of hearing Mom and Laurence in the throes of passion was too disturbing for words. My room was cozy and cute, and it even had a small fireplace. I looked outside, marveling at the view. Maybe Mom was right for once: a little alone time would be great. All I had to do was avoid Jackson and Just Katerina and avoid watching Mom make out with the Zygote, and I would be just fine.

  I had settled in to my room and was standing by the window, enjoying the view of snow-capped mountains and trees, when I heard a knock at the door. Expecting it to be Mom, I marched over and swung it open, determined to tell her that I was just fine in my room and to leave me be, thank you very much.

  Jackson stood there, looking devastatingly handsome in a black turtleneck sweater and jeans that only certain men could wear. Did he have a wardrobe change or something?

  “Hi, Jackson. What’s up?” I asked, trying to calm my racing heart.

  “Your mother sent me to ask if you wanted to join us for dinner.”

  “‘Us’?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. “Just Katerina included?”

  “No,” he said, his lips twitching in amusement at my reference to Katerina. “Katerina’s exhausted from the trip up here. She’s going to bed early.”

  “You mean she doesn’t eat.”

  “You are in a terrific mood, aren’t you?” Jackson returned. “Will we have the honor of your presence at dinner?”

  I started to say no, and then I remembered the whole point of this trip was for me to spend time with my emotionally grieving mother—who was doing a great job of showing it with all her PDA with the Zygote.

  “Give me a second,” I said, stepping back and starting to shut the door. But Jackson prevented me from closing it by placing his body in the doorway.

  “I’ll wait,” he said.

  I gave him a look, heading to the bathroom to touch up my makeup and rearrange my tousled hair. When I emerged from the bathroom, I came out to find Jackson standing by the window, looking out at the view. I wondered what he was thinking about.

  “Nature. I’m just thinking about how awe-inspiring it is,” Jackson said, turning to face me. He chuckled at my startled expression. “We all wonder what other people are thinking when they look so thoughtful.”

  “Um, right,” I replied, but I was still caught off guard by the way he always seemed to read my mind.

  “When I was a kid, my parents drove us to the mountains to go camping for a week. It really made us appreciate nature. You forget sometimes when you live in a city, dealing with your hectic life, that you’re a part of something bigger,” Jackson said.

  I approached the window to stand next to him, surprised that he was letting me in on something from his personal life when he was usually so guarded. As I took in the breathtaking view, I had to agree with him.

  “It does make the annoyances in our lives seem so small,” I said, taking in the vast landscape of the sky, the trees, and the mountains.

  Jackson turned away from the window and looked at me for such a long moment that I had to look away. Sometimes his gaze was too intimate for me to handle. A memory of our almost-kiss resurfaced, and my face heated. I became hyperaware that Jackson and I were alone in my bedroom, in a somewhat romantic ski lodge.

  “Shall we?” Jackson asked, breaking the pregnant silence, moving away from the window and heading toward the door. I nodded, pushing away the sliver of regret that flitted through me.

  *

  Not only were Mom and Laurence at our large table in the rear of the ski lodge, but several of Laurence’s friends were there as well. They also had huge man crushes on Jackson. Luckily they seemed to tire of Jackson pretty quickly and returned to talking among themselves after about an hour of grilling him about his next book. When there was a lull, Jackson turned to me.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked.

  “He had to work. Otherwise, he’d be here,” I said, feeling a little defensive.

  “Of course,” Jackson said after a brief pause.

  “So. How is Just Katerina?”

  “I get the feeling you don’t like her.”

  “I don’t know her enough to dislike her. All I know is that she apparently doesn’t have a last name and she wears politically incorrect fur coats and stiletto heels in several feet of snow.”

  “It’s fake mink,” Jackson said. “There is a lot to like. She’s hard working and perseverant. She has a good heart. And she has a beautiful voice. You should come to one of her shows sometime.”

  “I’m sure,” I said, tearing my eyes away from his intense gaze and taking a long swig of hot cider. He was obviously smitten with Just Katerina.

  “And most of all,” Jackson continued, his eyes boring into mine, “she doesn’t constantly try to argue with me and bite my head off.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I demanded. “Was that some kind of underhanded reference to how I treat you?”

  “You said it, not me,” Jackson replied, saluting me with his hot cider as he took a sip.

  “For the record, I don’t always try to argue with you. I stand up for myself. And I don’t have to be nice to you. I’m not your girlfriend.”

  “True. But it would be nice to talk to you without the emotional armor. And don’t tell me you don’t have armor or pretend to not know what I’m talking about. Everyone wears armor,” Jackson said, and I could have sworn I saw a flash of vulnerability in his eyes.

  “I give you that,” I said carefully. “But if we’re being completely honest here, you haven’t come close to taking off your metaphorical armor with me. And you know exactly what I’m talking about. So why should I do the same?”

  Jackson didn’t respond. He got to his feet, his expression guarded.

  “I’m going to head to bed. Just Katerina awaits,” he said, smiling as he used my nickname for her. But my stomach tightened at his mention of her. “Maybe I’ll see you on the slopes tomorrow.”

  “No way,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t ski.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” he said, shaking his own head in wry amusement. “Well. I’ll be seeing you.”

  “Don’t forget to say goodnight to your fans,” I said, gesturing toward Mom and Laurence, who’d been eyeing Jackson ever since he got to his feet.

  “I won’t,” Jackson said, taking my hand and squeezing it in farewell.

  I removed my hand from his under the guise of having to take another swig of cider. He smiled down at me before heading to the other side of the table to say goodnight to Mom and Laurence. As I watched him leave the dining room, I determined that I’d go out of my way to avoid him for the next two days. It couldn’t be that hard.

  *

  “At least try the bunny slopes, sweetie,” Mom urged.

  “No!” I barked.

  It was painfully early the next morning, and Mom had somehow gotten into my room (apparently she also had a set of keys) and proceeded to beg me to go skiing with her and Laurence.
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br />   “What is the point of you coming up here if you’re not going to ski?” she prodded.

  “Exactly,” I said, sitting up to glower at her. “I came up here because you’re grieving over Dad getting married. But you look fine to me. More than fine. You and the Zygote.”

  “Laurence,” Mom returned through gritted teeth.

  “You two have done nothing but suck face since I’ve been up here. I might as well go home,” I continued, laying back down and putting my pillow over my face.

  Mom snatched the pillow away, sitting on it when I tried to reach for it again.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Adrian. I never took you for a quitter or someone who doesn’t take on challenges.”

  “What are you talking about? Please give me back my pillow.”

  “You’re still mourning over Marcus, aren’t you?”

  “Oh God,” I said, placing my hands over my eyes. “In all honesty, I haven’t given him a single thought since I’ve been here. I don’t want to ski because I’m terrible at it.”

  “All I hear is ‘don’t’ and ‘terrible’ and ‘can’t’,” Mom said, getting to her feet. “You’ve let a negative attitude seep into your bones. OK, fine. Stay in bed, mourning your life away for Marcus.”

  “Aargh!” I shouted, rolling out of bed and glaring at Mom. “If you want me to break all my bones skiing to prove that I’m over Marcus, I’ll do it!”

  “Great,” Mom said, beaming with pleasure. “Laurence and I will meet you at the lift in thirty minutes.”

  I gawked in disbelief as Mom made her way out of the room. She had just—once again—psychologically goaded me into doing something I didn’t want to do. It was an act she had pulled when I was a seven-year-old who refused to eat spinach, a twelve-year-old who refused to put on a grotesque pink dress she wanted me to wear, and a seventeen-year-old who really wanted to wear a “trashy” tube top to a friend’s party. The woman had a gift.

  This was how I found myself standing by the ski lift with Mom and Laurence, bundled up in a rather unflattering gray parka and baggy black-and-white striped snowsuit that had been lurking in my closet for several years. They both were decked out in rather flashy and coordinated ski suits.

  “Couldn’t you have found a better outfit, Adrian?” Mom asked, eyeing my snowsuit. “You look like an overstuffed bear. With weird black-and-white stripes.”

  “I didn’t think I’d be skiing,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Jackson!” Laurence shouted with delight.

  I groaned beneath my breath. Jackson always knew the best times to appear. And this time, he wasn’t alone. Jackson and Katerina trudged toward us, arm in arm. Jackson looked terrific in a navy-blue ski suit, and Katerina’s ski suit was fashionably white and fur-lined.

  “Nice to see you guys,” Jackson said, looking me up and down. I really wished I had taken the time to purchase a mildly attractive outfit for skiing. “You remember Katerina?”

  We all murmured our hellos. I caught a look of sly amusement on Katerina’s face at my unflattering ski outfit.

  “We’re starting out on the bunny slopes for Adrian’s benefit,” Laurence said, adding insult to injury.

  “I thought the bunny slopes were for children,” Katerina said, without the slightest hint of irony, looking at me with a combination of sympathy and amusement.

  “No, they’re for beginners,” Mom said coolly. “Adrian’s a bit rusty, that’s all.”

  “Maybe we should join you,” Jackson said. “I’m kind of rusty myself.”

  “What?” Katerina chortled, leaning into Jackson’s arm. “You’re an expert skier.”

  “Everyone has room to learn,” Jackson replied, shrugging.

  “That would be great,” Laurence said, looking as if he had just won the lottery.

  Our lift came, and Mom and Laurence slid on. I struggled to get on in my bulky outfit, and Laurence and Mom tried to help me up. I felt strong arms securing themselves around my waist, levering me up onto the lift. I turned just in time to see that it was Jackson who was loading me onto the lift.

  “Um, thanks,” I said, giving him a courteous nod.

  “No problem.”

  He stepped back to join Katerina, who had been unable to hide her mirth at my struggles to get onto the lift. She did not look thrilled when Jackson helped me, and as soon as he stepped back, she possessively linked her arm through his.

  We arrived at the bunny slopes ten minutes later, followed shortly after by Jackson and Katerina. As we made our way to the top of the slopes, an instructor gave us a brief overview of skiing. Mom, Laurence, Jackson, and Katerina were obviously only listening for my benefit, as they all looked bored.

  “You can do it, sweetheart,” Mom said, as I made my way to the starting position.

  I looked down at the bunny slope. I couldn’t believe it was called a “bunny slope.” It looked like a steep mountain as far as I was concerned.

  An overwhelming amount of fear filled me. People died skiing. All the time. What if I went airborne and landed twenty miles away? What if one of my poles went airborne and speared some innocent passerby?

  “Adrian,” Jackson’s calming voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and he placed his hand on the small of my back. “It’s OK. If you think you can’t do it—”

  “Maybe I should go first,” Katerina interrupted, stepping in between Jackson and me. “Will that help, Adrian?”

  “Um, you don’t have to,” I replied.

  “Watch this,” Katerina said, ignoring my response.

  She positioned herself at the top of the slope, and with a swoosh, she was off. She expertly skied down the slope, coming to a full and complete stop about three-quarters of the way down. She smiled up at us (mostly Jackson) as if to say, “See? Piece of cake.” I had to admit that she did make it look easy.

  “Adrian, are you sure?” Jackson asked.

  “Sure. Of course I can do it,” I said, determined to one-up the smug Katerina. “Here goes nothing.”

  I positioned myself at the top of the slope, taking a deep breath. With a casual smile at Jackson, I leaned forward on my ski poles and took off down the mountain. For a few blissful seconds, I was overjoyed. I was doing it! The wind whipped by me, and the world flew past in a dizzying blur. I let out a delighted whoop as I skied down the mountain.

  And then I noticed how fast I was going. Too fast. Way, way too fast. I turned my skis in the way I had been taught if I wanted to slow down or stop, but I didn’t stop! If anything, I was beginning to speed up. And Katerina was right in my path. Behind me, I could hear Jackson, Mom, and Laurence screaming something, but I was going too fast and I was too panicked to hear exactly what they were saying. All I knew was that I seemed to be picking up even more speed and Katerina was getting closer and closer.

  I screamed for her to get out of the way, but it was too late. Before I knew it, I’d collided with Katerina and we were entangled in a mass of limbs and skis and poles.

  I lay there, shell-shocked for several seconds, attempting to get to my feet. But my skis were entangled with Katerina’s, who was lying very still on the ground.

  “Are you all right?” Jackson asked as he skied down to us. He leaned down and attempted to untangle us.

  “I think so. Is she dead?” I asked, terrified.

  “Hardly,” Jackson said, looking amused as he managed to untangle our skis and rolled me to my feet. He knelt down to tend to Katerina as Mom and Laurence skied to my side.

  “Adrian!” Mom shrieked, throwing her arms around me. “I saw it in slow motion. It’s all my fault for making you ski. It was just like when you were eight and you rode your tricycle right into that ditch and fell onto your little behind. Oh, you cried for days.”

  “Yes, I remember,” I said, filled with embarrassment as I looked around.

  Other skiers were stopping, watching us with interest. I noted with horror that a teenager was recording the whole thing on his phone, his shoulders shaking with si
lent laughter.

  “Are you OK?” Laurence asked me, stifling his own laughter.

  “Yes,” I replied, glancing over to where Jackson was helping Katerina to her feet. A nasty bruise was starting to form on the side of her face, and she glared at me with open hostility.

  “Katerina, I’m so sorry,” I said, genuinely remorseful. “I kept trying to stop but I kept going faster and—”

  “Whatever,” Katerina snapped. “Maybe if you hadn’t been showing off for my boyfriend, you would have done a better job of watching where you were going!”

  I stared at her. She really couldn’t think—

  “Excuse me, you have no right to talk to my daughter that way,” Mom started, but Jackson held up his hand.

  “We’re going to head back to the lodge to get her cleaned up,” Jackson said, taking Katerina’s hand and heading away.

  “I really am sorry!” I called after them. Jackson ignored me, but Katerina turned around and gave me a death glare.

  “The nerve of that woman!” Mom hissed, watching as they headed off. “I’m glad she’s all right, but maybe she deserved that little fall.”

  “Mom, come on,” I said, but I was preoccupied. I felt stung by the way Jackson had ignored me. Did he really think I was showing off for him? “I’m going back to the lodge. I’ve had enough skiing for a lifetime.”

  I shook off Mom’s protests and headed back to the lodge, trying to ignore the looks of amusement I got from the other skiers.

  I licked my wounds by spending a good portion of the day in my room. I kept replaying the horrible moment of my impact with Katerina and her accusation that I was “showing off” for Jackson. But at the end of the day, I decided that I’d hidden in my room long enough and not showing my face would only make the humiliation worse.

  I headed to the common room to sit by the fireplace with my laptop and see if I could get some work done on the article. I was intently working when I heard Jackson’s voice.

  “Hey.”

  I looked up. Jackson stood there, looking down at me. I searched behind him for any signs of Katerina.

  “She’s upstairs,” Jackson said. “May I sit?”

  “Sure,” I said, as he took a seat next to me on the couch. “Is she OK? That was a nasty bruise.”