“Oh my god, I bet it would fit in braids.” I put a hand over my mouth, stifling the giggle that tried to sneak its way out.
Jackson ran his hands through his hair, watching his reflection in the mirror of Julie’s vanity. He met my eyes in the reflection. “Do it, my family wouldhateit.”
“Okay, but I don’t know how. I’d have to watch a YouTube tutorial. Go brush it out and let me finish picking an outfit.”
Jackson left the room to go use his hairbrush, and I turned around and quickly went through Julie’s closet again, picking out a brown long-sleeve top and the black denim jacket that still had the tags on it.
I switched out my leggings for a pair of her dark jeans, and had just slipped off my shirt when Jackson walked back into the room. I gasped and my arms flew to cover my stomach instead of my chest.
He stopped in his tracks with his hand still on the doorknob, cheeks reddening and eyes growing wide as they dropped down to my chest.
I was too stunned to move. Jackson watched me standing there in my cream-colored push-up bra that I was way too excited to buy when I found it at Goodwill.
Jackson’s eyes slammed shut, and his other hand flew to his crotch. Oh my god, was he . . .reactingto seeing me like this?
“Jesus, I’m so sorry. It’s just like, a natural reaction. I’m not trying to be a freak. Fuck, I’ll give you a minute,” he strangled out as he backed out the room, slamming the door behind him.
I was still standing there, heart racing in embarrassment. I finally snapped out of it, grabbing Julie’s shirt off the bed and pulling it on in a flash, then ripping off the tag from the denim jacket and throwing it on. Now my body had a double-layer of protection from Jackson’s eyes.
My cheeks still felt hot as I heard him start to play the drums in his room. I waited until the song was finished, then I counted another minute in my head before heading down the hallway to his bedroom.
I knocked twice, waiting for him to give me a signal that it was safe. I had my ear against the door, waiting for him to call me in when he pulled it open, causing me to fall into his chest. We pushed apart from each other faster than we fell together.
“Sorry!” we both said at the same time.
Jackson cleared his throat. “Can we like, not be weird about what happened?”
My words spewed out like vomit. “Absolutely. We never speak of it again. Just like when I started my period at the restaurant—it’s wiped from our memories.”
Or, ya know, the time we kissed at a party, and dry humped each other at the restaurant.
Jackson started laughing, covering his face and rubbing his hands up and down.
“We can blame Julie. Everything is her fault for leaving,” he said good-naturedly.
“Alright, now that that’s settled, do you still want me to do your hair?” I asked, dying to change the subject.
He looked at my hands, then over at the staircase. “Probably not. We have to leave soon.” I was actually grateful he changed his mind, because my hands were still shaking. I wasn’t sure if I would be able toproperly use them right now. And touching Jackson would not be a good idea, either. For him or me, I couldn’t tell.
***
Jackson’s family’s Christmas party was just as bustling as he predicted. I recognized a lot of the family from the anniversary party, but his aunt had invited her husband’s family, too, who werealsoItalian. I didn’t even know who was actually related to the Delvecchios and who wasn’t.
Some of Jackson’s uncle's nephews were around our age, and we were hanging out with them in the basement of his aunt’s house, hiding away from the adults with a bottle of vodka that one of the older cousins sneaked for us.
We were playing a card game called spoons, and these guys wenthard.I wished Julie was here, because all the cousins were boys, and they were obnoxious and rough while we played. Someone had the idea to put the spoons halfway up the staircase, so we had to run across the entire basement to grab them. A guy named Luca suggested that whoever got to the spoons first got to take a shot. The game turned super competitive after that because there were five of us and only one bottle of alcohol.
I had lost every game so far, so I was stone-cold sober in a room with four annoying teenage boys. Jackson was trying his hardest, and he was hands down the drunkest out of all the other guys.
Once everyone had a steady buzz going, I started to actually try during the game. I wanted at leastoneshot, but some dick named Brian was being a stickler for the rules, and hogging the bottle.
Someone got up sneakily to tiptoe to the stairs for spoons, and when I noticed, I sprung up from the floor, throwing my cards down in a panic. I ran for the stairs, but someone grabbed my waist from behind and pulled me back. I toppled backward, falling to the floor and hitting my tailbone.
All the boys passed me, each grabbing a spoon and waving it in my face before joining the circle again. Jackson walked up to me slowly, throwing the spoon in his hand down to the floor with a clink and helping me stand.
“Which one of them pushed you?” Jackson asked.
I rubbed my tailbone, sure there would be a bruise later. I turned around and pointed. “That asshole, Brian. Is it really too much to ask for one sip?”
