Page 48 of What If It Was Us
“No, no. I’m sorry. That was . . .” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.Highly inappropriate.
Jackson looked at me with apologetic eyes. I knew that look; he’d looked at me like that plenty of times when we were teenagers. That look meant he was fighting something inside—that he wanted me, too. The past started rolling over me in unwanted waves. I hated this. I hated everything about this.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again before flying out the front door.
I dropped one of the paintbrushes, then returned to the wall to keep painting. I had to give up when I couldn’t get my hand to stop shaking.
Chapter 23
BEFORE
December, Eleven Years Ago
After Jackson’s birthday party, he started dating Sophie Waters. For the first couple months she was cordial with me, then when she realized how close Jackson and I were, it felt like everything she said to me became passive-aggressive. She started coming to the restaurant on days Jackson and I worked together, sitting at the bar and flirting with him during his shift. She would even sometimes stay while we closed, which irritated me because Jackson and I couldn’t sing obnoxiously, or sit up against the wall with a bottle of wine like we used to. He would still drop me off at home after, but with Sophie sitting between us in the middle seat.
The Delvecchios invited me over for Christmas Eve again, but for the first time, I was nervous to attend because Sophie would be there, too.
I knew it bothered her, how often I was with the family, but I couldn’t help it. They weremyfamily. I couldn’t give up Christmas just to make her more comfortable. I would probably hang out withJulie the whole time anyways, because Sam was bringing a girl he had been seeing and Julie had broken up with Laney a few weeks ago.
I was letting Julie curl my blonde hair in long waves down my back, and she’d let me borrow one of her nice sweaters that fell off one shoulder. I’d paired it with black leggings and my high-top Converse with the embroidered pizza slice. They were getting worn out by now; the bottom flap was coming apart when I walked, but they were still my favorite pair of shoes. They meant so much to me.
“So, why did you break up with Laney?” I asked as Julie wrapped a section of my hair around the wand, tapping it a few times to feel the heat before releasing the curl.
“She had been flirting with this other girl for a while. It bugged me, so I ended it.” She didn’t even look upset, and my jaw dropped open slightly.
“Just like that? You thought she was being flirty with someone else so you dumped her?” I couldn’t believe how fast she had decided she was done.
Julie looked at me like I was crazy. “Uh, yeah,” she said like it was obvious. “Why would I want to be with someone who doesn’t give me their full attention? I deserve someone who cares about my feelings.”
“Wow,” I said breathlessly. If only it was that easy for me. “Did it break your heart? Were you in love with her?”
Julie released a puff of air that sounded like a laugh. “I liked her a lot, but no, I wasn’t in love. I don’t think I could’ve broken up with her like that if I was.”
I thought about this with an uneasy feeling in my stomach. What did it say about me that Jackson was with Sophie, and I still had all these feelings for him, even after the way he’d treated me? Could I be in love with him? Was that why it was so hard? Was that the reason I couldn’t just walk away?
Julie finished curling my hair and tied half of it up for me, leaving the other half loose to frame my face. As she finished securing the elastic, she let out a frustrated huff at the sound of Jackson in his room, absolutely obliterating his drum set.
“Will you go tell Jackson to shut up?” Julie asked. “I thought he’d stop half an hour ago, but he just keeps getting louder and louder.”
We switched places so she could sit at her vanity. I hadn’t seen Jackson since I got here earlier this afternoon. He had been holed up in his room all day.
“Sure. Wish me luck,” I said as I leaned over her shoulder to look at my hair from all angles in the vanity mirror.
“He’s gotten really mopey lately, right?” Julie asked as her brown eyes met mine in the mirror. She looked concerned. Jackson had been different this school year—even worse than junior year. We mostly went to stoner parties these days, and when we went out, he drank way more than he probably should. When we went to a party, Sophie always drove since I still didn’t have my license, so he was able to drink as much as he wanted.
“He just had a tough time this past year,” I said, trying to convince her he was fine. We had just finished our first trimester of senior year, and Jackson got terrible grades again on his report card. It’s like he wasn’t even trying anymore since deciding he wasn’t going to college. Half the time I’d walk into the lunch room only to get a text from him saying he had slipped out to smoke in the parking lot.
I walked down the hall to Jackson’s room, listening to see if he’d stop playing. I could hear muffled lyrics from behind the door, but I knocked anyways. I waited twenty seconds before I realized he probably couldn’t hear me, so I let myself in.
When I opened the door, Jackson was drenched in sweat. He was shirtless, every muscle in his body contracting as he played his drum setwith what I could only describe as hostility. His arms were flying from piece to piece, aggressively smacking each drum so hard with his sticks that I worried they might crack in two. It was so loud I could feel the beat of the bass drum rattling my bones. He didn’t notice me watching him, and he continued playing with his jaw clenched, completely in the zone.
It was mesmerizing, watching him. He was in his own world, throwing his body into the music. When the song ended, he flipped his sweaty bangs off his forehead. His chest was heaving up and down as he caught his breath. He finally noticed me then, and motioned for me to hand him the water bottle on his dresser.
I walked it over to him and he gulped half of it down. I couldn’t take my eyes away from his throat, and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with his swallows. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“What song were you playing?” I sat down on his bed as I watched the muscles of his abdomen flex and relax with his breathing.
