"Jackson, one more please," Emmett whined, pulling my arm.
"Whoa, slow down, tiger," I said with a groan, slumping down on the bench, my head still spinning. "I think my intestines need to recover from being twisted over and over again," he chuckled at that, sitting down next to me. "Are you not tired?" I looked at him. He didn't even break a sweat.
"Nope," he said.
"Well, then I must be getting old," I said. "What a bummer," Emmett laughed at that.
"Jackson, you're 27. That's not old," he scoffed. "Just admit it," he said eyeing me sideways.
"Admit what?" He rose a brow at me. "I don't have anything to admit," I tried to dismiss him.
"You were scared," he taunted with a smirk.
"Me? Scared? Please," I scoffed, looking away. "I'm not scared of anything," he giggled softly.
"I'll bel
