Jackson blew out a long breath of air then dipped his paintbrush into the can. “I, uh . . . didn’t tell you that Sophie and I were on a break while she was away. I bet you thought I was some asshole, trying to cheat on my fiancée.”
What . . . ?
They were on a break? Why was he justnowtelling me? I could have kissed him in the car, and I wouldn’t have had to feel bad about it. Heck, I could’ve kissed him on the Fourth of July. When he was on top of me after we fell while painting. In the bathroom without his shirt on. At the beach yesterday. Every moment he touched me since I came back was blinking beneath my skin, alerting me to how much I craved his touch.
“Oh.” Was all I said in return.
Did that mean he wanted more with me? My mind was reeling, my brain trying to look at every interaction between us these past two weeks in a new light. I wanted to kiss himnow,too—until I realized that he said theywereon a break.
He started to go on. “Yeah, she called me last night to see if I had figured my shit out with you before she came back. I told her nothing is going on with you and I, so . . . we’re back together.”
I thought he was with her the entire time. That he was repeating the past and trying to cross the line—that he didn’t know what he wanted. Did that mean he wantedme, but because I rejected him, he was going back to Sophie?
“So, that’s it? You’re just . . . getting married still?”
“Yes,” he answered adamantly.
I huffed like a fucking child. “Why didn’t you tell me you were on a break?”
I watched his jaw tick. “Because it didn’t matter. You were always going to leave again.”
I wanted to yell at him, because no, hedidn’tknow that. But he was right, it didn’t even matter anymore. I decided Iwouldbe leaving now. I would sell the house and forget about all of this. All I needed to focus on was painting this wall. Sophie would be home tomorrow, and I wouldn’t let Jackson come back to this house. His phone hooked up to the speaker then, at an ear-splitting decibel, which he’d likely done on purpose so that we couldn’t talk.
“Let Me Down Slowly” by Alec Benjamin was Jackson’s first song choice. I bit my lip to keep from screaming. He was the one who decided he didn’t want me, not the other way around. After that was “car” by Royel Otis. Did he really think this was the best thing for us?
When “If It Means A Lot To You” by A Day To Remember started playing, I almost lost it. We both knew we couldn’t even go back to being friends—there’s no way Sophie would allow it. Why was he doing this to me? It was killing me—absolutely shattering me—that he was fighting the feelings he had for me. I was feeling a hurricane of emotions in my chest, knowing this would likely be the last time Jackson and I ever saw each other.
My first song pick, “I Love You, I’m Sorry” by Gracie Abrams, was starting to play, and I put a hand over my chest to calm my heart rate. Every beat felt so intense it hurt. I pretended to focus hard on the paintbrush strokes, but they came out jagged across the wall. “Alley Rose” by Conan Gray was queued up next, and I sang it with malice to hide the devastation in my chest.
I kept sneaking glances at Jackson, finding him with a stone-faced expression, painting as if he couldn’t hear the music. “Fortnight” byTaylor Swift played next, and this time he sang along, too, with his fist clenched and his other hand white-knuckling the paintbrush. It gave me way too much satisfaction, seeing him struggle with this, too.
“Last Kiss” by Taylor Swift began, and I tried not to look at Jackson while it played. I was mouthing the words, trying my hardest not to cry. I could feel him looking at me as I painted the wall with shaky hands. I didn’t want to play this game anymore. I couldn’t.
When I finally gained the courage to look over at him, he was closer than he had been a moment ago. I watched as he took three steps toward me, grabbing the sides of my face and lowering his forehead to rest on mine. The end of the song was blaring around us; I could feel it rattling against my heart, like it was bursting from within me.
Our chests were almost touching, and with each heave of our breaths they came in contact. All I had to do was angle up my face, and we would be kissing. I didn’t want to fight it anymore—I just wanted to give in. But this time itwouldbe cheating, because he was with Sophie again. I hated him. I absolutely despised him for doing this to the both of us.
“You want to kiss me,” I whispered up at him. It was a statement, not a question. I wasn’t even trying to taunt him. I just needed to hear him say it—to admit to me that he wanted me.
Jackson froze before he took a step back, staring at me with regret before turning around and throwing open the front door. He pounded down the porch steps, the door slamming behind him in the process. I should’ve let him go; I should have turned around and continued to paint the wall. But, like an idiot, I followed him, because my stupid heart was attached to his.
“Jackson!” I yelled after him when I pulled the door back open. He was pacing back and forth on the curb, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and scoffing at himself.
“I know,” he said in a strained voice. It sounded like he was yelling at himself, not me. He actually fucking admitted it. He had a fiancée, and he wanted to kissme.
I could feel the burn starting beneath my skin, the rapid popping of anger.
“And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t marry her; because the fact that you evenwantto kiss me is wrong,” I said, my chest heaving.
“I’m marrying her, Addie,” he said defiantly.
It was like a knife to the chest. What was I thinking, wasting my time with him these past three weeks? I should have never let him back in. I couldn’t believe I’d let him do this to me,again.
“Why? Why are you doing this to me?” I sounded like a wounded child. I couldn’t even scream—I was too hurt. I just needed the truth. I was so tired of all the circles we were running in.
“Because . . . Because you know it can’t happen.” He sounded exasperated, like I was making it all up as I went along. Like everything was inside my head this entire time.
“Why, Jackson? Why not? You’re hurting me. You’re really fucking hurting me, and you’re hurting Sophie.”
