Twenty Eight-1

10:01 PM Madeline veers the car left, headed to the Human Bean. "Maybe this was a mistake," I say. "Maybe we should forget the coffee. I need to get back." She ignores me and turns the car anyway. "I know," she says, "but listen to me, please. Take a few minutes. Process all of this before you go into your dorm room demanding answers from the cupcake god." Damn it. She's right. I say nothing which Madeline takes as me conceding. I suppose that I am. Any other day, the insane line up at the coffee shop would be tolerable but because I'm in a rush, today is not that day. The line up looks as though it's a mile long and I find myself bouncing on my feet, my nerves sparking with every passing second. Madeline's hand darts to my shoulder and presses down firmly. "Jesus. You're gonna give yourself a stroke. Deep breaths, Lola. Just relax." "He's hiding something." "We've established that much. And trust that you'll find out what that is, but first you need to be able to control yourself." Who the hell knew Madeline Mason possessed such wisdom? Not me. I follow her advice and begin to draw long, deep breaths while the line up moves at a snails pace. I'm not sure how much time passes before she turns to me. "What's your order?" "A mocha for me. Coffee with cream, no sugar for Jax." She turns to the barista. I see her mouth moving. I know she's ordering but a million thoughts are racing through my head and I cannot focus on a single thing she says. Zena's dark, foreboding words are ricocheting around my brain like a defective pinball machine. The way in which he came is the way in which you leave. My stomach lurches and it's impossible to tell if it's caused by distance with Jackson or my fried nerves, which feel as if they are cauterizing themselves together in a solid mass of unease. She grabs a brown paper bag-evidently having ordered pastries. As soon as the recycled take out tray is in her grasp, I'm spinning on my heels and headed back to her ridiculous compact car. I wedge myself into the front and grab the tray from her, eager for her to drive. A fire is burning inside me to get home as quickly as possible, to Jackson and hopefully to answers. We pull up to my dorm and Madeline puts the car into park, removing her coffee from the tray while it's still in my hands. "I'm heading back to my apartment," she says. "I'm a phone call away." She sets her coffee in the drink holder and puts her hand on my shoulder. "You can do this, Lola. Just be calm and assertive." "Thank you," I say. "Truly. You've been a great friend." I mean it. I'm not sure what I'd do right now if not for Madeline. "Of course. Remember if you need anything, anything at all, just call." "I will." I exit the vehicle and find that my knees have decided they don't want to bend or support my weight anymore. I ignore them, straighten my spine, thank Madeline again and make the walk up the stairs where the answers hide behind the door. I wonder if Jackson is still sleeping when I swing open the door, but he's not. He's sitting straight up in my bed, his back against the wall. He looks up from his phone and smiles. "Hi Angel." And just like that, I'm angry. I want to throw the coffee at him. His calm, cool exterior. His smirk. He's hiding something from me and acting as if it's nothing. I'm pissed off. And I want to remind myself that I'm pissed off rather than allow myself to be swayed by his charm. He must see it written all over my face because his careful expression slips. "Something wrong?" I stride over to where he's sitting and hand him his coffee, burying that instinct to throw it. "I dunno Jax, maybe you can tell me." "Nothing is wrong," he says confidently. "Really?" "Really." I sit on Tori's bed, not wanting to get too close to him for fear I could forget my mission. Answers. I need answers. Jackson's eyebrows draw together curiously. I make my voice firm. "I need you to be honest with me." "I am honest with you." "But you're not. Maybe you're not outright lying to me but you're omitting details. Important ones. Or so the palm reader says." He tries to brush my concern away with a simple shrug of his shoulders. "You're going to believe a palm reader?" I blink. Dumbfounded. "Are you kidding? You mean the same palm reader that made you materialize out of nowhere? That one? Yeah, she's got some credit with me Jax." The same shoulders that just shrugged, slump instead. "I guess that's a valid point." I feel tension thread across my back. My voice begins to shake with a combination of anger and terror. I am sure as hell not prepared for what he might say, if he says anything at all, but I need to know. "Tell me what it is you're hiding, Jackson. You can't pretend the last few days haven't happened. You're hiding something from me. Every nerve, every bone, every cell in my body tells me so." He sets his coffee on the nightstand. "No more games, Jax. No more lies, or secrets or anything. You say I'm the greatest love of your life, well here's your chance to prove it." He crosses his arms over his chest defensively. "If you care about me at all," I continue, "you'll answer honestly." His arms fall and he nods. He's hesitating and I know whatever it is, it can't be good. "What spooked you last night?" Nothing. Not a word. "Jackson. What in God's name had you so freaked out that you had to come here last night and refuse to let me go?" He pauses for an eternity before he says, "a memory." "Wrong answer," I fire back at him. "What memory?" He's silent. I clench my teeth together to stop myself from screaming. "What memory, Jax?" "A memory I have no desire to remember," he says. "Leave it alone, Angel. Please. I beg you to leave it." "I won't," I say defiantly. "This is my future, Jackson. You're fucking around with my life. Tell me what happens." He shakes his head and looks at the blanket spread across my bed. "Lola," he implores, "please, you don't want to hear this." "I don't," I agree. "But I need to. What memory?" He sighs, resigned to my inquisition. "The memory of what happened the night I came here." The way in which he came is the way in which you leave. "What happened the night you came? How did you get here? You said you went to sleep and woke up in the past. Is that true?" He looks at the wall, down at the bed a second time, anywhere but me. "No."