Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jessica’s Pov

“How much longer, Aaron?” I hissed, annoyance creeping into voice.

We’d been on this endless stretch of highway for nearly two hours now, and he’d conveniently forgotten to mention the drive would feel like a cross–country marathon.

“If you ask me that one more time, Jess, I’ll pull over and leave you on the side of the road,” he snapped back, his eyes glued to the asphalt ahead.

I bit back a retort, stealing a glance at him instead. He looked good–too good–like he’d stepped out of one of those brooding hero ads.

The way the late afternoon sun slanted through the windshield, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw.

I wished I could just blurt out what was really swirling in my head: ‘Stop being such an ass and tell me you feel this pull too, or at least turn on some music to drown out the silence.‘

But nope. I just huffed dramatically and turned away, fixing my gaze on the rolling hills blurring past.

The city had vanished in the rearview long ago, replaced by lazy suburban sprawl–farmhouses with wraparound porches, vast cattle ranches where cows grazed around.

The fading sun painted everything in a flaming orange glow that screamed old–school Texas–peaceful, nostalgic, like we’d tumbled into a ‘90s Western. It was almost soothing, if not for the tension coiling between

1. us.

“Can we roll down the windows?” I asked, still not looking at him, my voice softer now, laced with the fatigue.

I half–expected him to ignore me or grumble about the wind messing up his hair, but he didn’t. The AC hummed to a stop, and he cracked the windows, even sliding open the sunroof.

A rush of cool evening air flooded in, tangy with earth and wildflowers.

I propped my chin on the door rest, letting my eyelids flutter shut as the breeze tangled my hair and soothed. the itch under my skin.

For a moment, it was perfect; just the whoosh of wind, the hum of tires on pavement, and a fleeting illusion of eternal peace.

I didn’t mean to doze off. The view was too pretty to waste, but exhaustion from the day’s activities caught up to me.

One minute I was tracing lazy cloud shapes; the next, everything faded to black.

Aaron’s Poy

“Jess, pull your head in, we’re hitting a bumpy stretch,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on the winding road ahead, the grvel already crunching under the tires.

There was no response. Not a twitch, not even a sarcastic eye–roll from the passenger seat, and It pissed me off.

Why was she so damn stubborn? Always pushing back, always testing the edges of my patience like it was a game only she knew the rules to.

“Jess.” I growled, the word coming out sharper than I meant, infused with that frustration she somehow always dragged out of me.

Still nothing. I blew out a frustrated breath, and eased off the gas, hitting the brakes until the car rolled to a dusty stop on the shoulder.

The engine ticked softly in the sudden quiet as I twisted in my seat, ready to scold her–tell her she was impossible, infuriating, a walking headache.

But then I saw her: Her head was lolled against the door, lips parted in the softest breath, lashes fanned out like dark wings on her cheeks.

She was out cold, asleep against the door like the world had paused just for her nap.

How the hell was that even possible? Head bobbing with every bump, wind whipping her hair into a frenzy, and she crashes out like it’s a damn hammock on a beach.

Every damn day, Jessica Reid proved why she was wired different, unique in ways that snuck up and punched me in the gut.

I’d thought I had her mapped after living with her under the same roof, but nope, she’d unlock another facet, like today, dozing off mid–ride as if defying physics was her superpower.

I reached over, my hand wrapping gently around her soft arm, and tugged her back from the door.

She stirred with a sleepy mumble, something incoherent about “cookies” or “monsters,” her head lolling to the side before settling against the headrest.

She remained knocked out. Classic Jess: she could crash anywhere when exhaustion hit, even if it was the ninth circle of hell. She was stubborn in sleep, too.

Cursing softly, I killed the engine and hopped out, the cooling evening air nipping at my skin, carrying the earthy smell of fields and pines.

I circled to her side, popping the door open with a quiet creak. She didn’t budge, so I slid one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and lifted her like she weighed nothing.

God, she fit against me perfectly, her body molding to my chest as she nestled in with a contented sigh, mumbling nonsense again.

Her scent wrapped around me, a soft mix of vanilla lotion and sun–warmed skin, and for a second, I just stood there, holding her in the fading light, the world narrowing to the steady rise and fall of her breath.

Shaking off my thoughts, I juggled the back door open with my elbow, then eased her onto the wide leather seat, laying her down as gently as I could.

I’d tell her then what I barely admit now: You’re stunning, Jess. That body of yours? It’s a masterpiece. Hips I’d kill to grip during a slow dance, thighs I’d bury my face in until you forgot your own name, an ass that haunts my dreams like the perfect pillow after a long day on the court.

What I feel for Jess, I don’t know. It’s an infatuation, raw and unnamed–not love, not hate, just this magnetic pull that defies labels.

I crave her presence like oxygen, the way she makes the house feel like home, and her existence that lit up the corners of my world I didn’t know were dark.

I want to keep her smiling for real, make her feel safe and worthy, make her understand that she deserves the world. But I’m held back by my own fears of hurting her.

I notice how her eyes go soft when she’s around me, that crush growing quiet but strong, a secret she protects fiercely. Maybe it’s even deeper than a crush now.

And if I encourage it, build it up, only to let it crash? I’d break her heart completely.

Her family doesn’t give a damn about her, and that’s a big reason I quit being mean to her years ago, once I saw how deep it cut through her already empty life.

Jessica needs real love, the kind that floods in full, from someone whole, not cracked like me.

Fiona’s betrayal still has hooks in me, old pieces I can’t shake loose. My heart’s a total mess–twisted up in ways I can’t even sort out or explain without sounding like a loser.

But one thing’s crystal clear: I’d protect Jess with everything I’ve got, even my life.

In eight months, she’ll wrap college, launch into whatever wild dream she’s chasing (journalism, probably- exposing truths like she unearths mine without trying). She’ll move from this apartment, from me, and good for her.

Maybe she’ll find someone who looks at her the way she wish I could.

Until then, we’ll keep up this little game; the fake dating, the teasing, the banter that makes everything feel less complicated than it is.

Let fate roll the dice, I’m dying to see where it lands.

I pressed a soft kiss to the back of her palm, her skin warm and soft against my lips, then eased it down to rest on her stomach.

I got back behind the wheel, opened a bottle of water she’d thoughtfully packed for us, and took a long gulp before starting the engine again.

I pulled back onto the road, the manor just thirty minutes out now.

Whatever waited there–family interrogations, Fiona’s taunting smile… I’d face it. For her. For us, even if it was pretend.