Before midnight, I watched her grab his hand and lead him upstairs. I had to fight to swallow down the bile that was climbing up my throat.
I stood up with everyone else when there was a minute left until midnight, my arms crossed against my chest while everyone around me counted down. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jackson and Sophie were doing upstairs. I considered going up to see for myself, but when the bile threatened to rise up again, I thought better of it.
Someone handed us red plastic shot glasses, and Scott and I clinked the plastic together when the ball dropped. As soon as I swallowed, he leaned in to kiss me fast and hard, the smell of weed wafting around us as everyone sparked a celebratory blunt for the new year. These stoners did not mess around.
When he pulled back to look at me, I grabbed his hand and pulled him upstairs.
We found an open bedroom and fumbled into the dark. I imagined he was Jackson. My body was filled with liquor and weed, and my blood felt like it was coursing through me faster than it ever had before.
The darkness around us transported me back to the closet I made out with Jackson in during the game of seven minutes in heaven. All I could think about was Jackson’s hand on my jaw and pulling my hips into his when I pulled Scott against me.
I needed to be touched; I needed someone to make me feel good.
“Will you touch me?” I asked as I fisted Scott’s shirt and pulled him closer until his lips were pressed against mine again. I felt him nod against me. My hands found his hair, and I moved my fingers back and forth in the strands. It felt just like Jackson’s, thick and textured. The perfect length. I could smell the whiskey on his breath as we kissed. He didn’t try to slip his tongue in my mouth, and I was grateful because my body felt too loose. I wasn’t sure I’d know how to French kiss properly right now.
I was pressed against the wall and his hands were everywhere, sliding under my shirt and grabbing at any piece of me he could. All I could picture was Jackson’s face, his brown eyes looking at me like he could drown in me, yearning to be able to touch me. I let out a moan.
He started kissing down my stomach, pausing at my waist before sliding my leggings down.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked before sliding them to my ankles. His hands were hesitant, but I was impatient. I just needed Jackson to touch me—to give in to the want. I pushed my hips forward.
“Yes, Jackson, it feels good.”
His hands stilled, and he stood up from where he was kneeling.
“Hey,” he said softly, gently grabbing my face with his thumb and pointer finger to make me look him in the eyes. I couldn’t even see his face clearly in the darkness. “My name is Scott.” His voice was gentle, like he was talking to a skittish animal.
My brain was too fuzzy from the alcohol and the weed, and I started to giggle. I knew his name was Scott, but I wanted him to be Jackson so badly. I closed my eyes again, trying to push his head back down.
“I know it is. That’s what I said.” I was a gaslighter now, too, apparently.
He pushed my hand away from his head, holding it away from him. “How drunk are you? I don’t know if we should be doing this.” The one time I try to hook up with someone they have to be a decent guy? I could feel the blood moving through my body, pooling in every area that ached to be touched.
All I could think of was Sophie and Jackson in some room up here, too; how she was able to touch him in all the ways she wanted to, when it was me that should be touching him instead.
“I’m fine, I’m just a little high,” I lied. I was a lot of high. “I don’t want to have sex. I just want to fool around a little.”
He leaned forward and peppered kisses along my neck. I bit my lip, preventing myself from calling him Jackson again.
“If you’re sure,” he reiterated.
I started to rub the outside of his jeans instead of answering, feeling him grow as he groaned against my skin. His fingers slipped into my underwear, rubbing back and forth.
“Keep doing that,” I pleaded as I gripped onto his shoulder. I stuck my other hand in his boxers, moving my hand with the rock of his hips. I could faintly hear the music from downstairs; someone was playing “I Tried” by Balancing the Different, and a group of peoplewere singing along. God, why were they listening to something so depressing? It sounded like something Jackson would listen to, and the thought of Jackson made me pick up my pace on the body in front of me.
I could tell he was close by the way he matched my rhythm, and I let him finish in my hand as I succumbed to the feeling of his fingers on me. I grabbed his wrist while I jerked my hips against his hand.
When we both stilled, Scott leaned away from me. “Shit, Addie,” he whispered as he straightened.
I fixed my hair with my clean hand and pulled up my pants clumsily as he re-clasped his belt. He tried to give me another kiss but I turned my head so it was on my cheek. I couldn’t pretend he was Jackson anymore once we stepped out of the dark.
We slid out of the room together, and I walked directly into Jackson’s chest in the hall. We stepped back from each other, both staring at the other for a moment. Then his eyes moved down to my neck, his nostrils flaring.
Scott hovered behind me for a moment, then darted down the stairs. I’ll give him credit, he didn’t try to take advantage of me when he could have, and he was smart enough to realize that this was the man whose name I had called him by. I was the piece of shit in this equation.
“You have a hickey on your neck,” Jackson said with narrowed eyes.
I placed my hand over the spot Scott had been sucking. A chill ran through me; all I’d seen was Jackson’s face when he was doing it.
