Page 66 of AJ’s Fire

“They’re sweet. They're your friends from home, right, Jackson?”

“Emily and I went to boarding school together. Ruth is Ems’s cousin.”

Arm still draped over Devon’s chair, Jamie leaned in even closer to the young man. “You ready to go home?”

I might not have noticed that my brother sounded like an old married man, or that he’d called it home, if Devon’s response hadn't been a joking, “Yes, dear.”

I glanced at my scowling best friend. “You coming?”

“Yes, dear,” he muttered. It sounded bitter to me, but Jamie and Devon laughed.

My brother and his temporary roommate walked out like their shoulders were glued together, same as they’d come in, and Jackson worked his way around them when we hit the sidewalk so that he was leading our little pack, with me bringing up the rear. Devon dropped back to talk to me, saying he was sorry we hadn’t chatted more at the restaurant.

“You were certainly a hit with Emily and Ruth.”

“I’m the new shiny thing.” He shrugged. “A project for them. Plus, women love going to gay clubs, and I’m an excuse to do just that!”

“You’ll have to drag Josh down here to go with you. There are a few more weeks before school starts, right? What’s one more college kid at the house, right, James?” I raised my voice to get my brother’s attention, but for some reason, Jamie only glared at me without responding. He dropped back to talk to Devon, putting me right behind Jackson. Thankfully, we then reached the corner, where I could turn off to head to the subway. Jackson lived near enough to Jamie that he would likely keep walking with them for a few more blocks.

“This is me,” I said, mainly for Devon’s benefit. “Good night.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets and dropped my head down, fighting the blustery wind. I got to the next block before I heard footsteps pounding behind me. It made me even more frustrated that I knew him so well that I was sure that the heavy footfall was Jackson’s gait.

“Wait up, Aje.”

I turned to him and tried for a scowl that would rival the one he’d been giving me the whole night.

He reached out an arm but thought the better of it, shoving his hands in his pockets. “How can we leave things the way we did last night? I can’t. I’m so sorry.”

A taxi drove up, and he waved it down. “Please?” is all he said as he opened the door. I thought about it for a second before nodding and entering the cab, sliding all the way in though it looked like Jackson was about to close the door and go around to the other side. Fucking gentleman.

He gave the driver my address, and I stubbornly looked out the window with my arms crossed for the duration of the ride. I was pretty sure Jackson was looking at me the whole time.

He muttered an, “I got this,” when we got to my house and had to lean into my space to swipe his credit card and pay. I wanted to curl into myself even more while at the same time, every fiber of my being wanted to reach out and envelop him.

That’s what it had felt like the other night, I realized. Like we had found each other on a molecular level, each sub particle finding its mate and holding tiny little, microscopic hands. I just wanted to hold his hand.

I followed him out of the cab and opened the door to my apartment, entering before him and storming to the bathroom. Four beers, no food, and a foul mood were not the best combination. Jackson silently traded places with me, entering as I exited. Not closing the door all the way, like this was any normal evening we were hanging out.

Nervous energy had me standing, hanging our jackets by the door on the hooks that Nat had been so excited to buy for me, probably over fifteen years ago, straightening the blanket on my couch, and finally staring into my refrigerator.

I heard him exit and could feel him watching me in the open space. “You want a beer?” I said from inside the fridge.

“Aje, come sit down. Please.”

I grunted and shut the door a little harder than necessary, condiment jars rattling on their shelves. I’d taken a beer out but left it on the kitchen counter before bypassing Jackson and sitting on the couch. Jackson opted to sit on the coffee table, facing me. I tried to read his face as he lowered himself. All I could see was stress. He pushed the table back slightly so that our legs weren’t touching.

I dove right in. “I’m sorry if I misread the situation, Jax. All of a sudden, my feelings are so big and so confusing.” His eyes went wide. “Maybe not all of a sudden,” I concluded, thinking about the whole past year. He dropped his head, opting to watch his wringing hands instead of looking at me.

“When I realized I was bi,” he explained to his hands, “it hit me like a thermal explosion. All this heat, focused and overpowering, concentrated in one place. I couldn’t tell you, because I knew, I just fucking knew I’d mess things up between us, and I couldn’t bear the thought of not having you in my life. I’ve been terrified of losing you because …” He took a deep breath and finally let those verdant eyes of his focus on me. “Because I didn’t just realize I was bi. I realized I was in love with you.”

I tried to reach for him, but he jumped up and stood near the bookcase along the wall as if he was staring at the few pictures I had hanging there for the first time. One of them, of the two of us, soot stained and sweaty in our uniforms, had run in a local paper his first year at the station.

He ran a finger over it. “Emily dragged me out on the dance floor tonight to ask me how things were going and then gave me a ton of shit about how I handled things the other night. Told me to get my head out of my ass. It was … nice?”—he said the word like it was a question—“to talk to her. It’s great that she understands about the whole country club stupidity. She’s got it worse, even, because she comes from old money. Older, anyway. It’s unbelievable to me that that kind of caste system exists, but it absolutely does. Emily reminded me that my parents …” He turned to look at me. “They’re not monsters, Aje. They’re good people. But they’ve seen some shady shit. And I have definitely had people, women, go after me for the wrong reasons. I think it’s one of the reasons I stuck to hooking up.

“Well”—he turned and smiled at me—“that and the fact that I was subconsciously in love with my best friend. Of course, I owe my parents respect, but I’m my own person—finally, after all these years, I’m my own person in every way.”

“Jackson.” My heart pounded at hearing those words, and my stomach knotted as I watched Jackson’s vulnerability in saying them. It was everything I had wanted when I’d made my confession in the bathtub.