Page 62 of What If It Was Us
Neither Charlie nor Scott were present, and I was glad I didn’t have them here as a reminder of how I acted at the last party.
Jackson wobbled over, falling into the chair next to me. His beer splashed over his cup onto his hand, and he licked it off with a quickswipe of his tongue before turning to face me. I squeezed my thighs together, pretending I didn’t find it sexy.
“We have to go to prom,” Jackson said adamantly.
“Sorry, what?” It sounded like he was askingmeto prom. Which I knew couldn’t be possible.
He pursed his lips and nodded. “I know we don’t go to dances, but Sophie has been begging me for weeks. But I don’t want to go if you won’t.”
Of course this was about Sophie. Why was I getting dragged into it?
“No.”
“Addie—”
“I’m not spending a fortune on a dress I’ll only wear once. Pass,” I said angrily.
He made apsshsound. “You can wear an old one of Julie’s. Please Addison, please, please,please.” He clasped his hands together and gave a puppy-dog pout. I almost fell into the temptation of those deep-brown eyes.
I said no again, and he genuinely looked sad. I had to look away.
“Addison,” he whispered in a plea again.
Ugh, he was using my full name, and I hated how much Ilovedthe way he said it. I lost the battle.
“Fine, I’ll go. But you have to buy my ticketandhelp me pick out a dress of Julie’s,” I said.
“God, you’re the best!” He threw himself toward me, wrapping me in a tight hug around my neck.
“Jesus, I can’t breathe, Jackson.” I pushed him off me, acting like the feel of his body pressed against mine didn’t stir something up in my stomach.
“This calls for another shot!” Jackson hopped up, almost losing his balance before running back inside to the drinks.
I spent the rest of the party glued to my seat at the fire. The smokers around me switched the weed for cigarettes, and I took three puffs before coughing my lungs out and throwing it into the fire. We started playing a game of never have I ever, and when it hit midnight, Jackson came and found me again, asking me to take him to Sophie’s.
He dragged his feet across the pavement on the way to my car, off-balance and zig-zagging down the block. I had to help Jackson get in my car. He was swaying so much I was sure he was going to face-plant right there on the cement.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so drunk, Jackson. Are you okay?” I said as I buckled his seat belt for him. I thought I’d seen Jackson at his drunkest before, but nothing compared to tonight.
“I’m grand!” he said sarcastically before clicking a song on his phone and throwing it in the center consol. I walked around to the driver’s seat, looking at Jackson warily.
“I Have a Problem” by Beartooth was blaring, and Jackson was angrily singing the lyrics. I could feel the bass in my skull, and the entire car was shaking from the pulse of it. I didn’t like the song—how heavy it was, or the lyrics he was screaming. He was tapping his hands against his thighs, like he was playing his drum set.
“Are you and Sophie fighting?” I asked tentatively as I lowered the music.
“Yeah, ‘cause what else is new?” Jackson lifted his feet onto the dashboard, running a frustrated hand through his hair, leaving it in disarray. We were just talking about prom two hours ago; he’d finally agreed to go with her, so what could they possibly be mad at each other about?
I let out an annoyed breath. “What this time?”
“Because you’re at the party and she’s not.” He sang along to the song for a second, turning it up and then turning it back down so I could hear him talking. “You know what, fuck it. Don’t take me to Sophie’s. I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.”
I stared out the windshield, gripping the steering wheel tighter. I didn’t know what to do. A part of me liked that he wanted to stay with me, and he probably needed to go home instead of to Sophie’s, but I didn’t want to make Sophie any more pissed off than she already was.
“That’s not a good idea. You already told her you were coming, so we’re going,” I told him.
Jackson groaned and stomped his foot against the dash like a little kid. “I just want to be with you, Addie.”
My eyes snapped to his, and I wished I hadn’t looked at him, because he looked so sincere. It didn’t sound like he wanted to just beherewith me right now; it sounded like he actually wanted tobewith me.
