Chapter 4 Jack The Pantry Ripper

• Willow
• I'm seated in the passenger seat of Jack Carter's car, staring ahead in a daze for what feels like hours. I blink back the initial shock that had settled in my nerves at the sight of Chase kissing another girl and turn to regard him.
• One hand was clutching the steering wheel of his car, while the other was resting leisurely on the open window.
• “W–where are you taking me?” I manage to ask, and he turns to me briefly, a slow mischievous smirk growing in the corner of his mouth.
• “You'll see” is his only response, and that grates on my nerves more than anything.
• Why the hell am I in Jack's car when I'd sworn to stay the hell away from him? This is so stupid.
• “Stop the car,” I say through gritted teeth, and he regards me with nothing but a frown before focusing his attention back on the road ahead, ignoring me.
• “I said stop the car,” I scream, and the car suddenly swerves to the side of the road, the sudden force of it sending my hands flying over the dashboard. I'm sure I could have flown through the windscreen of his goddamn car if I didn't have a freaking seat belt on.
• “What the fuck is wrong with you!” I scream at him, “You could have killed me,” I cried, clutching my heart that was threatening to beat out of my chest.
• He chuckles, shaking his head. “Relax, Blondie; I'm not trying to kill you, at least not yet,” he grins, pushing the dark brown hair that is framing his forehead back with a swoop of his finger.
• My frown deepens. “Thanks for getting me out of there, but I'm not interested in your silly games,” I say, unbuckling my seat belt and reaching for the door.
• “Who says I'm playing games?” he mutters, arching his brow as he regards with a serious expression that somehow doesn't suit his usual aloof persona.
• “What do you want?” I ask, leaning back on the leather seat as I fix him with narrowed eyes.
• He chuckles again, leaning closer. “Relax, Blondie; I'm not trying to get into your pants; I don't do blondes, remember?” he murmurs, flicking a tendril of my hair as I watch him with bated breath. For some reason his words seem to strike a nerve, as though his abhorrence for girls with blonde hair like me should make me feel some sort of way when I know it shouldn't.
• He is so close to me that I can feel his heated breath on my cheek, causing me to lean away, my sides practically staying glued to the car door.
• “I'm trying to help you; it's obvious Chase doesn't share your feelings, and although I can't relate to getting rejected, I know it hurts,” he shrugs.
• “Let me help you get him off your mind,” he proposes, and I frown.
• Why the hell is Jack Carter trying to help me of all people? It doesn't add up.
• “Why?” I ask, and he grins, his row of pearly whites glinting in the low blue light of his car's dashboard.
• “Because I'm bored and you're kind of entertaining,” he shrugs, leaning back in his seat, leaving me to ponder on his words.
• Would I be making a huge mistake accepting Jack's offer?
• I'm torn between my rationale that says it is a bad idea to take him up on his offer, but another part of me is intrigued by him.
• He's an enigma, one that I would like to figure out.
• Jack finds me entertaining; I shouldn't be flattered by his backhanded comment, but a part of me that I hate is thrilled by the prospect of it.
• “Fine,” I mutter, and he grins, his dark eyes lighting up as he starts the car and peels away from the kerb.
• He pulls into our school's familiar parking lot that would have been busy with activities but is eerily silent and devoid of life. I frown, turning to him with a raised brow.
• “You brought us to school,” I say, and his lips tug up into a smug grin that irks the shit out of me.
• “Yes, isn't it obvious?” he responds with a question of his own.
• I roll my eyes, reaching to unlock the door and stepping out of the car. He follows suit, slamming the door shut, slowly rounding the car to the front.
• I nod towards the side of the school's main building, and I follow without question. I fall into step beside him, the moonlight overhead guiding our path.
• “Why did you bring me here?” I ask as we continue to walk across the field that is at the back of the main building. He tossed a lingering look at me before shoving his hands into the pocket of his pants.
• “If I tell you now, don't you think it would ruin the surprise?” he quips, and I scrunch up my nose in a scowl.
• I sigh but continue to follow behind, my curiosity getting the better of me. We approach the back door, and without hesitation, he grips the handle, trying to pull it open, but it doesn't budge.
• I roll my eyes in annoyance. “You didn't think it'd be open, did you?” I hissed, and he smirks, reaching into the inner pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a bunch of keys.
• I gasp, slapping a hand over my mouth, “H–how did you get those keys?” He chuckles, ignoring my question and unlocking the door anyway while I stand there looking over my shoulder as I half expect a teacher or a staff member to catch us in the act of breaking and entering.
• “What the hell are you doing, Jack? We could get caught,” I hiss as panic floods my veins, but he still has that stupid smug grin painted across his face as he stands there holding the door open.
• “Relax, Blondie; the longer you stand there, the less likely we are to get caught,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side as he regards me with those dark eyes.
• “I—my words fail me.
• I hate to admit it, but he is right.
• Sighing, I throw one last glance behind me before stepping in, my conscience screaming at me this is wrong and we would get caught.
• “Come on, Blondie,” he urges, shutting the door behind me as he turns a sharp corner that leads us into a very familiar hallway. I frown as he pushes glass double doors that lead into the ice rink open.
• I follow, walking into the spacious rink. Memories of watching Chase from the sidelines, cheering him on during his games flash before my eyes and I feel my heart squeeze painfully.
• He walks towards a bench that is situated beside the ledge that demarcates the rink from us. I take a hesitant step towards the bench and take a sit.
• He bends down and begins untying the lace of his Converse before shrugging them off. He reaches into a small compartment on his side and pulls out two pairs of ice skates and, without a word, tosses the other pair at my feet.
• I blink in surprise, my gaze flickering to him as he wordlessly puts on the ice skates and begins to fasten the laces.
• I picked up the skate, examining it for a moment before throwing him a glance. “I have no idea how to skate,” I mutter, looking down as I felt my cheeks heat up in embarrassment.
• He chuckles, “I figured. Now put the damn skates on,” he says, rushing from his seated position and shrugging off his jacket, leaving his navy graphic tee below.
• I frown at his bossy tone but proceed to shrug off my sneakers and lace up the skates before looking back up at him. “All done”, I mutter in a tiny voice.
• He walks over to me, offering a hand to help me up from the bench. I take his hand, knowing fully well that I'd likely fall and break a few bones if I tried to stand on my own.
• “Easy, Blondie,” he mutters, as we approach the rink slowly, my hands gripping his so tightly I'm sure it would leave bruises.
• He helps me onto the rink, and as soon as my skates hit the ice, I sway, but he manages to catch me before I faceplant into the ice.
• “No, no, no, I can't do this. Why am I doing this?” I mutter as I feel panic bubble at the pit of my stomach.
• He throws his head back and laughs, and I freeze, watching the icy demeanour I'm so used to melt into a puddle, only to be replaced by the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.
• He grins, a dimple appearing on his left cheek. “Don't be scared; I got you, blondie,” he says as we begin to skate slowly, my hand gripping his as he matches my pace, which isn't a lot.
• “Why do you call me that?” I frown, and he chuckles. “Would you prefer I call you Henderson instead?” he muses, cocking his head to the side, and I roll my eyes.
• “Whatever,” I mutter, but then a thought crosses my mind. He knows my name is Henderson; how didn't I think of this earlier?.
• He chuckles, increasing his pace as he slowly begins to get the hang of it.
• “That's it; don't focus your eyes on your feet; keep your eyes ahead; you got this,” he encourages, and I adhere to his words, laughing as I begin to get the hang of it, but I am nowhere near being as good as he is.
• “Oh my God, this is so much fun,” I laugh as we complete a full circle hand in hand around the rim.
• As Jack and I skate round the rink, all my worries suddenly become non-existent as they float off with the wind.
• I'd never genuinely enjoyed ice hockey, only pretending to love the game because Chase does, but now I understand how it feels skating round the ice, the freedom; it feels surreal, like a drug I could get addicted to.
• We skate around for hours, laughing and making small talk before Jack decides it's getting late.
• I don't mind that it is getting late, nor do my parents care, but I know not to voice my opinion because he is probably right; we have to go home.
• We leave through the back door where we first came in, walking slowly in a comfortable silence towards the parking lot.
• “I'll drop you home,” he offers as we reach his car, and I blink in surprise.
• I'm quick to turn down his offer. “It's alright, you can drop me off at the nearest bus station; I'll find my home.” He frowned.
• “It wasn't asking; get in the car, Blondie,” he says, pulling the door open and slipping into the driver's side without waiting for my response. Now there is Jack's nasty attitude that I'm used to; it's like a slap in the face, bringing me back to reality.
• I gritted my teeth, swallowing the streams of comeback on the tip of my tongue before slipping into the car and clasping my seatbelt in.
• Silence hangs in the air as he makes the drive to my home, our only conversation being when I give him directions.
• He pulls into the kerb in front of my house, and I sigh in relief, reaching to unclasp my seatbelt.
• “Uh, thanks for tonight, Jack,” I mutter, and he nods. “Anytime Blondie,” he replies, and I muster a tight smile before unlocking the door and stepping out of the car.
• Before I can turn to start the walk up to my front porch, his voice stops me.
• “Hey Blondie,” he calls, and I turn just in time to catch his smug grin.
• “I dig the costume, by the way,” he smirks, stepping on the gas as he takes off down the road while I stand there with my cheek flaming hot.
• I realise that Jack is nothing like the rumours I'd heard; while he is a little rough around the edges, he is thoughtful and kind.
• Because there was no other plausible reason for him to help me, a nobody, tonight, but he did.