“No,” Hayden says. “Just—keep being you, while he spirals out of control and completely falls in love with you.”
My heart flutters at her words, and I tell it to calm down. “I don’t want to get my hopes up.”
“You’re not misreading him. Don’t think that you are,” Hayden says.
“He’s picking me up at three to take me to the mechanic shop,” I reveal. “My car will be ready by then.”
“Aw, so he won’t have to pick you up after work?” Gracie looks disappointed.
I shrug. “Guess that obligation is finished.”
“He can still come by after work though,” Hayden says with a sly smile.
“Booty call!” Gracie says, and they give each other a high five.
I scowl at them, but they just laugh at me. Until I’m laughing too. Worry nags at me though. What if this doesn’t work out? I’m a planner. I normally like sure things. Whatever is happening between Jackson and I can’t be described as one, not in the least. He doesn’t come with guarantees. Most people don’t.
Seriously, what the hell am I doing? Is it a mistake, believing I can have something real with the boy who used to avoid me in public places, yet told me all of his deepest secrets in private? Should I even trust him?
My heart tells me yes. My logical brain?
Is screaming at me, nooooooo.
We chat a while longer and then Hayden agrees to drop me off at my apartment, which is a big help. She gets me home earlier than normal so I take a shower and get ready for work, taking my time so I look the best that I can.
By the time it’s close to three, I’m a nervous wreck. My stomach is twisted up in knots and my hands are shaking as I apply a coat of lip gloss. When I’m finally done, I rub my lips together and take a step back, contemplating myself. I look no different. My hair is curled, so that’s nice. I turn to the side, smoothing my T-shirt over my stomach. At least it’s not stained, and I’m wearing my best bra so my boobs look good.
There’s a knock on the door and I run down the stairs, slowing as I get to the bottom, and taking a deep breath. I need to remain calm. Unfazed.
I approach the door, exhale slowly and turn the lock, opening the door and smiling at Jackson, who is standing on my doorstep, sexy as can be.
Black T-shirt. Light gray basketball shorts. Socks covering his feet with Nike slides. The typical stuff I see boys wearing on campus. Jackson just looks a little sexier with it. Maybe it’s the longish blond hair that flops over his forehead. The chain around his neck. The look in his eyes when his gaze meets mine, the faint smile curling his lips.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low and a little gravelly. “Can I come in for a minute?”
“Sure.” I open the door wider and he walks inside.
“I wanted to get here a little early because I hoped I could talk to you,” he says as I shut and lock the door. He stops in the middle of the living room, glancing around. “This is nice.”
“You’ve been here before,” I remind him.
“Yeah, when it was pitch black and I couldn’t see anything.” He smiles.
I blush, remembering that night.
I need to keep it together. Not get all flustered over him, which is far too easy to do.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask, needing to change the subject.
“I wanted to apologize for what happened last night,” he says, his expression solemn. “I acted like a complete asshole.”
“Oh. It’s okay.” What does he mean, he acted like an asshole? Yes, I’d been mad at him for thinking he forgot me, but I got over that fast.
“I never want you to think I’d forget you. I was so tired. I just—when I fall asleep, sometimes I sleep hard. And that’s what happened. I didn’t mean to be late.” He takes a step toward me, his hand reaching out, but he lets it drop before he makes actual contact. “And then I acted like a dick toward you. And your—friend.”
There it is. That tiny glimpse of jealousy. I’m tempted to smile. Worse, I’m tempted to ask him about it, but I keep that particular question to myself. “He’s fine. Don’t worry about him.”
“If you say so.” He doesn’t sound so sure. “Are we fine?”