Unspoken by Liliana Camarena Page A

said leaving the door empty and going to the kitchen.
    “Wow,” he said looking around “You have flour in your face,” he said walking into the kitchen space “and in your hair.” He said.
    “I know,” I said sitting down on the floor and looked up, “you look too nice to sit at the floor,” I said blowing some air to get a tendril of red waves out of my face. Jackson did look nice, he was dressed in jeans and a royal blue polo shirt; it seemed that he had cut his hair like half an inch because it was completely messed up but with style and he had groomed his beard. “You did something to your beard,” I said.
    “I did,” he nodded and grinned, We need to get out of here.
    “Where to?” I asked still sitting on the floor.
    “Where did you make your first cupcake ever?” he asked with his hands on his jeans pockets. I smiled, at the pool house .
    “Right,” he moved around the kitchen opening containers and throwing every cupcake I’ve made that day, “Bring everything you need,” he said still putting everything in sight in containers, “you need to go back to basics.” He said and I couldn’t even smile. I was afraid my smile would give away too much of what I was thinking. I was sure that I needed to get out of there to get inspired but the pool house…. It was too much. Pool house always meant sex and heart to heart conversations and sex, and baking and sex and saying good bye but mostly sex.
     
    “It feels too weird to be here,” I said looking around the pool house. It was practically the same as I remembered.
    “Why?” Asked Jackson as he put everything we’d brought in the kitchen counters. “Because of all the sex we had here?” he finally turned around and looked at me.
    “Jackson!” I said covering my face with my hands trying to cover the blush that was extending quickly to my neck.
    “C’mon, Mar,” he said walking towards me “we can’t keep ignoring our past.” He put a hand on my hip and with the other tried to move my hands off of my face.
    “We aren’t ignoring our past, Jackson,” I said once he had my hands on his hands “It’s just too…,”painful, frustrating, heartbreaking… the list could go on.
    “Difficult.” He said. That was one word for it. I nodded, “I know, Mar,” he smiled It’s difficult for me too.
    “Is it? Jackson? I was the one that was left all alone wondering if you would be coming back!” I finally took a step back and paced around the pool house “I waited for you for a long time,” I turned to look at him and I could see the pain in his eyes. I knew he was feeling what I was feeling.
    “I thought about you so much, Mar. Why do you think that I am here? Why would I run away to the Hamptons from all places?” he said.
    “I don’t know!” I threw my hands up and looked at him “You tell me, Jackson, because I’ve been asking myself that same question for the past 3 months,” I didn’t want to cry but I could feel tears on my eyes already.
    “I came here because this has been the only place, in my 28 years of life, where I’ve felt completely safe and happy,” he walked closer and put his hands on my cheeks “I needed to feel the peace that I felt back then,” he put his forehead against mine but I kept my arms crossed because I didn’t want to touch him, not there, in the pool house.
    “I had been in town for 5 hours when you saw me at the bakery,” he finally said, he was opening up and I felt my heart come to live; I felt little beats that let me know that I was alive “I was so ready to go back to New York,” he let out a tiny laugh. “When I saw you I realized that it wasn’t the Hamptons that gave me peace, it was you,” no, this was dangerous, my heart beats were loud and clear now and this could only lead to sadness and destruction.
    “Jackson,” I whispered trying to move.
    “Let me finish, Mar,” he said tightening his grip on my face a little, “It’s you that makes me feel good about