Page 49 of What If It Was Us
“‘The Lines’ by Beartooth.” He set a hand over his chest, like he was trying to slow down his heart rate. His index finger grazed against the freckle on his collarbone, and I made myself look away.
“Sounded heavy,” I added.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Is it almost time for the party?”
“Yeah, we’re just about ready to head downstairs.”
Jackson rubbed a hand down his face, wiping off more sweat. “Your hair looks good like that,” he said, lifting his chin in my direction.
I fiddled with the back of it, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach. “Thanks. Julie did it.” I cleared my throat and stood up. “What time will Sophie be here?”
He averted his eyes. “I don’t know, probably soon. I’m gonna go take a quick shower.”
He stood up from his seat and I froze when he slipped off his basketball shorts right in front of me, showcasing the bulge in his boxers. He walked across the room, grabbing a towel from behind his door and leaving his room in a flash.
I stood stunned for a moment, my brain taking a second to register that I did still have the ability to move my legs. I ran down the steps with Bambi legs, walking into the kitchen to join Marie and Phil just as Sophie walked through the front door. I tried to slow my heart rate as I gave her a fake smile, burying the guilt in my chest.
***
The thing that I knew bothered Sophie the most was that Jackson wouldn’t touch her around me. If I was in close proximity, he’d let go of her hand, or move his head when she tried to kiss him on the mouth. He thought I didn’t notice, and he claimed he thought PDA was stupid, but I knew it was a lie. He just didn’t want to make me feel uncomfortable. A part of me was grateful, because it was tough seeing him with Sophie, but it just made her hate me more. She was smart enough to know it was because of me.
Sophie looked beautiful today, and I told her as much. She was wearing a red sweater with a black-and-white plaid skirt over black tights. She took one look at my outfit and muttered a lousy, “Thanks.”
When Jackson came downstairs, his hair still wet from his shower, he gave her a lame side-hug. Sam was over on the couch with his new girlfriend, and I was awkwardly sitting at the kitchen counter, silently begging Julie to finish getting ready so she could come downstairs and save me.
Phil made us grasshoppers—an alcoholic drink that contained ice cream, and who-knows-whatever-else. He allowed me, Sophie, and Jackson one glass, and I couldn’t even tell there was alcohol in it thanks to the minty taste and vanilla ice cream.
We started the night by playing a game of Monopoly. Every time Jackson got up to “get a snack” or “use the bathroom”, I knew he was secretly drinking more of whatever alcohol he could find. As the game progressed, he got more and more drunk. He thought he was being sly, but if I had figured it out, I was sure everyone else had, too.
At one point, Phil slapped Jackson on the back playfully and said, “Slow down on the drinking, son. I know it’s Christmas, but it’s not even dinner time yet, and you’re tipsy.” Jackson brushed him off with a playful shoulder bump, but I was nervous. I could tell Sophie was annoyed with him. Jackson got too risky when he drank. There was no telling what he would do or say.
After the game finished, I stuck to Julie’s side like glue. It didn’t help that when we ate dinner, I was seated between Julie and Jackson, with Sophie on Jackson’s other side. I’d tried to avoid sitting beside Jackson, but he purposely chose the seat next to me so he could be between me and Sophie.
During the meal, Jackson reached over to put a lock of my hair behind my back, dragging his fingers against the exposed skin of my shoulder in the process. I tensed, trying not to react to how good his delicate fingertips felt against my smooth skin. I had to press my nails into my palm to distract myself.
I looked at him in my peripheral vision, mouthing the words,No touching.
“Your hair almost got in the gravy on your plate,” Jackson said, loudly enough for everyone to hear before turning back to his food, like that was an excuse for doing what he did.
I glanced up and Sam’s girlfriend was watching me with her eyebrows furrowed, like she was trying to figure me out. She looked at Jackson next, then Sophie, before returning her eyes to me. My whole body went hot, and I could feel my back starting to sweat. It was so embarrassing to feel like I’d been caught having feelings for Jackson; like I was doing something wrong. It was him that had the girlfriend—him who was touching me when he shouldn’t be.
I took out the hair tie that was holding half my hair up, and put everything up in a high ponytail so I didn’t have to risk him fixing my hair again. I knew Sophie had seen him touch me by the way I could physically feel her eyes burning my skin like laser beams. He had to stop drinking; he couldn’t do things like this. I could barely finish eating because of all the nerves bubbling in my stomach.
As soon as dinner was over, I made up an excuse that my stomach hurt (which was honestly a half-truth) and went up to Julie’s room to lay down on her bed. I dug through Julie’s bookshelf before finding something that looked appealing and began reading. I dozed off for a bit, and an hour later Julie came to check on me.
“How are you feeling?” she asked as she lay down next to me on the bed.
“Better. I think it was from the grasshopper,” I lied.
She started pulling out one of the threads on her sweater. “So, what do we think of Sophie?”
Was that a trick question? Julie flipped over to her stomach, positioning her fists under her chin to look at me head-on.
“She’s cool. Really pretty, too,” I said, attempting to sound as genuine as possible. The pretty part was true, at least. It just sucked to admit it.
Julie burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her fist.
“I haven’t seen you in so long, but I can still tell when you’re lying.” Julie was smiling, and my cheeks flushed. At least she believed the lie about the grasshopper giving me a stomach ache.
