Page 31 of AJ’s Fire

I gently wrapped my hand around Jackson’s wrist as he walked past. He stopped as I closed the door, and we stood at the end of an industrial hallway, our friends clomping up a set of stairs nearby.

I looked at Jackson, and understanding bloomed. I might have been confused and disappointed that Jackson had felt the need to keep a secret from me. Usually we told each other everything, or at least I thought we did, so there must be a reason for the secret. When I looked into those sparkling eyes, none of it mattered; all that mattered was that my friend needed to be okay.

“Your phone,” I muttered as I pulled it out of my pocket and very intentionally handed it to him upside down.

He nodded and looked down. It was only then that I realized I still gripped his arm. He was in layers of clothes topped with a wool jacket, and I was wearing gloves, but the realization that we were touching made my stomach explode. I didn’t let go, and we both stared at our arms until I sensed him move his gaze to look at my face. Somewhere behind us, The Lava Floor pulsed an insistent beat, but all other sound ceased. It reminded me of the most intense moments I’d ever had fighting fires. All sight and sound became secondary to the task at hand. And like those moments, Jackson was in it with me, my partner, so in tune to me that I didn’t need sight or sound to know, instinctively, where he was and what he was doing.

And I thought I knew what he was doing in that moment, too, as we stood, my hand tight around his wrist, our eyes locked. But what was I doing? I could feel my heart beating, sense it pulsing where it met his wrist. We leaned in, my hand traveling up his arm, my other arm extending, ready to reach out for his waist, to grasp him tight, so he would know I was there to keep him from falling even as we stood still and stable, even as we might be falling together.

A cacophony of sound exploded from above us, and it broke the moment. We both looked up to see our friends clustered at another door, except for Jamie, who was bounding back down the stairs as I took a step back, only then releasing Jackson.

“Are you two plotting a call to the fire marshal? Come on, the girls are worried we’re gonna lose you.”

Jackson cleared his throat but didn’t take his eyes from me. “Yeah, yes. On our way.” Only he didn’t move, and neither did I. My heartbeat pounded opposite the beat of the thumpa-thumpa of the club, causing my entire body to tense as I waited for Jackson.

“Thanks, man,” he said, pocketing the phone without even looking at it before turning and bounding up the stairs.

I stood at the bottom, but my, “Jax, wait,” was drowned out as the group opened the door wide and entered the night club proper. I followed in a daze.

We found ourselves on an upstairs balcony that circled the room below. There were people milling about, but not nearly as many as crowded the dance floor below. The person who had met us led us to a corner, where I was surprised to find an empty table awaiting us.

“Ms. Wyecrest, Mr. Dorso, we’re happy to have you and your friends at The Lava Floor. My staff will be by shortly to take your order, but please enjoy some champagne on the club while you wait. Happy New Year.” She popped the champagne for us and filled six flutes that had been lined up on the table.

I stood a bit apart from the group as Jamie walked behind Jackson, put his hands on his shoulders, and joked, “Mr. Dorso and Ms. Wyecrest, coming in clutch with the VIP table.” He looked over at me, sure I would laugh along with him and tease my friend, but my scowl made him pause. He frowned at me in question before scurrying to hold out chairs for the group. Jackson mumbled something about a drink and flew past me so quickly he brushed up against me.

I turned and watched him stride with purpose to the bar. We must have been in a VIP section because despite the throngs of people on the dance floor below us, the balcony we were perched on was busy but manageable.

I watched the bartender clock Jackson and meet him at the end of the bar. Jackson must have given his order because the server took off toward the center and began pouring a drink.

It was only then that Jackson pulled his phone from his pocket. His face was neutral as he opened it, though I could only assume he was reading the notifications I had seen.

Jamie’s voice in my ear made me realize he’d come up right behind me.

“Alexander Jeremy, are you planning on joining us, or are you just going to stand in the middle of the floor all night?”

“Huh?”

“You getting a drink with Jackson or joining the table? We have champagne.”

“Jackson?”

“Ohh-kaay.” I didn’t move, and Jamie came around to face me, gripping my arms.

“He’s right there, AJ. AJ?” Jamie was right in my face, blocking my view of Jackson.

“What? Huh? Champagne sounds good.”

Jamie shook his head at me and kept one hand on my arm, guiding me to the table.

He pulled out a chair and turned it slightly toward the empty one next to it.

“Sit.” He placed a flute in front of me. I smiled up in thanks, then downed it in one gulp while Jamie sat, and I watched Jackson typing on his phone.

Jamie turned his chair, dovetailing our legs as he sat, looking right at me again and pulling my focus from the bar. Across the table, our three companions were taking selfies and ussies. “AJ, what the fuck is going on?” my brother implored. “Is everything okay with you?”

“Hey, Hampstead Valley boys, smile!” We both looked up at Emily, and she snapped a photo. She took one look at it. “Yuk. Pretend you like each other.”

Jamie leaned over and placed an arm around me, tilting his head and ordering me to smile. I did so, and Emily snapped a few shots as I muttered into my brother’s ear.