He shrugs.
I bristle at that shrug. At the fact that he knows me so well, he can probably tell that I am, in fact, lying. “You’re being really rude right now, Jackson.”
“I want names, El.”
“I’m protecting their privacy.”
“Ha!” He laughs. “Come on. Give me names.”
“Marshall, Bobby and Justin.” Bobby was the kid I adored when we were in the first grade. He was so ridiculously cute. I just wanted to hang all over him and kiss his rounded cheeks. He moved away when we were eight.
I wonder whatever happened to Bobby.
And Justin is a general enough name that it feels safe. Yeah, of course I kissed a Justin. We all know about a bazillion Justins, it seems.
“Justin who?”
Damn it. He thinks he knows him. Of course he does.
“You don’t know him.”
“I might.”
“You went to another school,” I remind him. “This guy was older.”
“How much older?”
“A year older than you,” I answer.
“So you were kissing a guy who was two years older than you. When you were a sophomore,” he says, his voice flat.
“Yeah. I was. Justin was super-hot. The only one out of the three who was good with his tongue.” I nod. My lie just keeps growing.
He pins me with a look, his gaze serious. His entire demeanor serious. “Ellie.”
“It’s true! We hooked up at a party,” I tell him, exasperated. More with myself because I’m a complete liar, and I don’t lie. Not ever.
Well, I lie to Jackson on a consistent basis because I hide my feelings and pretend I don’t care about him. Which isn’t true. I care about him too much and if he asked me to be with him forever right now, at this very moment, I would say yes without hesitation.
I’m that much gone for him.
Deep down, I think he knows it. That’s why he keeps me around. Why he helps me out. He probably feels sorry for me.
Oh God, that’s the worst thing ever.
“Okay. Cool.” He’s nodding repeatedly, going along with my story. “So it’s true. You hooked up with a senior at a party your sophomore year. Meaning you two probably did—other things. Am I right?”
I fold in on myself like a flower closing when the sunlight disappears. “That’s none of your business.” My voice is prim.
“Aw, Ellie. Come on. We’re close. You’re like one of my best friends,” he says, his voice extra deep as he studies me. “You can tell me the truth. I can keep a secret.”
It’s the best friends comment that’s like a douse of cold water, waking me up. Reminding me that’s all I’ll ever be to him. A friend. “I don’t need to let you in on all of my secrets.”
His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there. “Really.”
>
My lips part. He leans in. What is he doing? “Yes. Really,” I say shakily.