Novel & Cerita Jackson An American Dreams

There was no judgment in his voice, just understanding. “So, that’s why I work at Coffee Shack. Until I get those debts paid off, I will do just about any job that pays me.” She shrugged and tried to smile. “Someday, I plan on going back to school so I can get my dream job. I just have to pay some things off first.” Jackson leaned back with a smooth motion. “It sounds like you have a plan.” “I just have something that looks like a plan,” she admitted. She fiddled with her napkin and tried to think of a way to change the conversation. She was sure she was making a great impression on her billionaire date telling him all about how she was broke.

There was no judgment in his voice, just understanding. “So, that’s why I work at Coffee Shack. Until I get those debts paid off, I will do just about any job that pays me.” She shrugged and tried to smile. “Someday, I plan on going back to school so I can get my dream job. I just have to pay some things off first.” Jackson leaned back with a smooth motion. “It sounds like you have a plan.” “I just have something that looks like a plan,” she admitted. She fiddled with her napkin and tried to think of a way to change the conversation. She was sure she was making a great impression on her billionaire date telling him all about how she was broke.

She stared at the broken fountain that settled in the corner outside, near a small storage house that only takes ten steps to get there—starting at the fountain’s point. In her sight, birds were flying, and steady trees without any wind were like city buildings. Over twenty-two years, Amandla had never seen what a city looks like and how people do things there. She was living peacefully, happily with her mother in the forest. Her dreams were anywhere in the city, but no one else could guide the house if she went together with her mother. She took a few steps forward and pressed her forehead against the cold glass from the window; she sighed. Even at three in the afternoon, the birds were sti

The hurt in his voice killed me. “Oh, Henry.” My shoulders slumped. “I can’t be with you. You’re a prince. I’m just an American girl. I’m not special.” “You are.” He took a step forward. “You are so special.” “I am only a liability to you,” I replied. I forced my voice to stay steady. “I’m not what you think I am?” “You aren’t perfect? Beautiful? Thoughtful? Kind? Smart?” Henry shook his head. “No.”

Jackson had stayed. Her shoulders slumped as she sunk into her memories. They were all warm, even the fights. Because he was always trying to just be there. "He told me once that if I had a dream, I shouldn't wait, I should act on it. Whenever we argued about anything, mostly Randy, and I'd start apologizing... he would tell me I shouldn't be sorry. Even after I confronted Randy the first time and fell for his lies, Jackson told me he'd be happy if I was, but that I deserved better."

Three days into their stay in Montbert, Jackson was already bored. He sat on the velvet sofa in the Royal Study, reading the local morning paper. Alex was sitting next to him, translating the French headlines. "This one says you are an 'American Gangster' who laundered money through pizza shops," Alex giggled. "Creative," Jackson flipped the page. "And this one says you are holding the Queen hostage," Alex continued. "They call you 'The Barbarian of New York'."

Jackson guesses Monica wasn’t completely over her feistiness. Jackson rather likes her this way, though, giving him a glimpse into the woman who left home against her mother’s wishes to chase a dream, made a life for herself in a new city that intimidates even the strong, and used her passport for the first time to come to Paris for a competition with one of the most renowned fashion houses in the industry. She was a vision, even if he can’t see her. Actually . . . He pushes a button on his phone, requesting to change our phone call to a FaceTime call. “Oh! What are you up to?” Jackson hears her smile before he even sees it, but then she was in front of him on the small screen of his phone.

he asked. She looked at him gruesomely, making him think she would not agree. Finally, she nodded her head and cackled. Kate awoke terrified from the nightmare she had last night after the horrible incident she encountered from Ken. She had seen Queen Latina in her dreams, looking so scary with her hawkish nose and sanguine eyes. That got her frightened. She saw where Jackson shot himself to death. She had to convince herself that it was just a nightmare as she cast her gaze on Jackson, praying nothing would happen to him. Jackson had his hands straight to his eyes; she could sense the vision in her head and was surprised by the nightmare.

“What do you think are the reasons why she was in your dreams? Did you think about her more often? There must be something, Jax. As I’ve said before, a person will not appear in your dreams for no reason. Even for a very small reason.” “Of course, not!” Jax answered almost immediately, defensively even. “I just see her more often since she worked for me. Should I fire her then? I can’t let those nightmares bother me again, Trish.” Jackson seemed to be struggling. Those dreams were so hard for him. He saw his wife being killed in those dreams, he didn't want to dream about it again. He should do something to stop them from coming back.

I don't know when he pitched closer to me on the sofa but we were so close now and Jackson's eyes dropped to my lips then snapped back up, conflicted, "I've never, I'm not supposed to..." "Supposed to what?" "Feel this way about someone like you." "Someone like me?" my voice tightened, "You mean a man?" Jackson flinched, "I'm not, I've never been..." "Gay," I supplied gently, "Is that what you're afraid to say?" "I'm not afraid," Jackson said but his voice shook, "I'm just, I've dated girls, I was with girls, I'm supposed to marry a girl like Tammy and have the perfect life my parents want and—"