Undeniable

I took Jackson from her, I say silently. She blamed me for breaking them up, enough to want to turn everyone I cared about against me.

Aunt Constance is still waiting for me to reply. “Nothing,” I reply. “I don’t even know her that well.”

“I assume she may have been jealous about how close you are to Blythe, or maybe something else.” She sighs. “Teenage girls can be very vindictive." She looks at me. “Blythe is pretty torn up. She says she was so angry she forgot to wonder why Lindsay had sent her up to your room in the first place. She says she’s sorry, but she's going to have to tell you herself, and Carter’s going to rehab, so maybe now she can occupy her mind with something other than him.” She pauses. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth Livvie?”

“You didn’t ask.” I suddenly want to cry, “and Blythe wouldn't listen, nor Jackson. I wanted to tell you, but you already…”

“…Decided,” She finishes for me. She closes her eyes. “I’m sorry... I just... You’re a teenager and I had no idea what to expect. When I was your age, I did a couple of crazy things…” She stops. “I'm sorry Livvie, I really am.”

When I don’t say anything, she pulls me to her, giving me one of her sweet, perfumed hugs. “I’m sorry okay? Am I forgiven?"

“Yes.” I whisper.

“I’m glad.” She holds me for a few more moments before releasing me. “I wonder when Jackson will be here with his friend.” She muses. “It’s a girl, thank heavens. At least it means Jackson isn't still interested in that Lindsay.”

“Or me.” I almost say, suddenly sad as the relief from being exonerated is replaced by the overwhelming cocktail of feelings that wanting Jackson always brings out in me.

“I should go down and tell Mrs. Shannon that we’re going to have a guest.” She starts to get up.

“I’ll do that.” I offer, getting up from the couch, wanting nothing more than to escape any further mention of Jackson.

After I give Mrs. Shannon the message, I remain with her in the kitchen. She’s the only one who never made me feel like an outcast, and in the past month, I’ve often found solace in her kitchen.

It’s already evening when I hear the voices that tell me Jackson has arrived. I stiffen when I first hear his voice making introductions, and the sweet feminine voice of his companion as she laughs about something someone has said.

I’m slicing some fruit for Mrs. Shannon. Involuntarily, my fingers tighten around the knife.

“Don’t cut off a finger in my kitchen because you have a crush.” Mrs. Shannon says with a chuckle, “You never know, you may need it for when you really fall in love.”

“I’ve fallen in love.” The words are inside my head, but they’re true, I’ve always belonged to Jackson, and regardless of whatever has happened, or what he thinks happened, he does belong to me. I may as well have spoken my thoughts aloud, as Mrs. Shannon shrugs and shakes her head. She goes back to her cooking, and I try to ignore the knowledge that Jackson is so close, and yet so far from me.

Maybe Blythe has told him what really happened, I think hopefully, or maybe Aunt Constance will. As for me, I can’t risk facing the blatant disdain I saw in his eyes the last time I saw him, the regret in his expression because his desire for me was stronger than what he thought of me.

“Why don’t you go out there and say hello, instead of hiding in here.” Mrs. Shannon says at some point.

“I’m not hiding.” I deny.

She snorts. “I know hiding when I see it.”

I’m watching her finish dessert when I feel the tingle in my spine that can only mean one thing. I know Jackson is in the room. I keep my eyes on M

rs. Shannon, determined not to look at him, knowing I won’t be able to bear the censure I'll see in his eyes.

“Mrs. S.”

I hear his voice, and immediately my chest tightens.

Mrs. Shannon looks up over my head. “Jackson!” She smiles widely, responding to him the way everyone else does. “How’s the big apple?”

“Big and crazy.” He laughs, the rich sound floating over me like a soft blanket.

Still I don’t turn to look at him, but I can feel his eyes on me, as they exchange a few words of greeting over my head. I start to wonder, no to hope, that he would say something to me. I wait, but he doesn’t even acknowledge me, after a few moments I hear him walk away.

“Now that was interesting.” Mrs. Shannon says, when he’s gone, leaving me reeling with the sorrow of his snub. “I feel as if I’m reading a new adult novel.” she gives me a look that’s full of compassion. “Why don’t you go upstairs and get ready for dinner.” She says. “You don’t look too good.”

“I’m fine.” I emphasize the fine, but she gives me one of her arch looks. “I just have a headache.” I sigh and get up from the kitchen stool I’m sitting on. “I’ll just go lay down.” I tell her. “In case anybody asks.”

“Do you want a sandwich?”