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“I know,” I say. “That was a long time ago. It’s just hair.”
“This feels like a big deal.” She wipes her eyes, and without thinking, I take her in for a hug.
“I can’t remember the last time you initiated a hug.” She just holds me, putting pressure on my ribs, like she’ll lose me. I feel a little uncomfortable, but I stay. This means a lot to her, and whatever I feel is insignificant.
When she pulls away, she touches my cheeks, and my gaze darts to the floor.
“Thanksgiving is today. Are you coming to dinner?”
“Yes,” I agree without a fight.
Shock covers her face, then a smile. “Good. Five o’clock.”
“Okay.” I cross my arms. My mom looks down at my T-shirt and jeans, my tidied beard, my clean apartment. She notices the steaming cup of coffee and my book. Checking her watch, she looks up.
“Wait, you’re awake.”
“I am.” It’s eight o’clock and I got to bed last night at ten, the earliest I’ve turned in since I moved home. Last night, I drank one glass of bourbon and slepthard.The sleep was so good, I forgot about the haircut and scared the shit out of myself when I looked in the mirror.
My mother still watches me. I shrug. “What?”
“It’s just, you’ve been different these last few weeks. What’s the change?”
Shiloh Louise Abbott.I don’t utter those words; I just shrug.
When she came over yesterday with her hair down around her shoulders, wearing that oversized sweater, I had to catch my breath. My haircut and the hug fucked me up. I opened my arms, and she walked in without hesitation. She was so tiny in my arms, I thought I would break her with how tight I held her.
I’m worried I may give away what I feel when I see her at Thanksgiving. I may look at her too often, try to get her to smile with one of our jokes. What Shiloh and I have is just ours, no one else’s to dissect or analyze. It’s more than friendship, but it can’t reach romance.
* * *
I watch the guests arrive from my window.
First, Annie and Whitney arrive. Something is going on with Reid and Whitney, for sure. First, karaoke, now she’s showing up to family events. It’ll be interesting to watch, at least.
Shiloh and I have the potential to be interesting to watch too, but I can’t add any fuel to the rumors. There’ve been plenty.
People have noticed how much I join her for lunch, how often I sneak into the employee breakroom to place a cookie in her locker. I now frequently buy her sandwiches from Subtown, and she mentioned once she wanted to try everything on the menu, so every time I go, I pick a new one. The hits so far have been the pesto chicken and the meatball sub.
As far as cookies go, she’s a chocolate-chip girl so I don’t get her anything else.
Chatter from my parents’ house drifts up to my studio, so it’s time I make an appearance. That morning, I dressed in a new long-sleeved shirt and clean jeans. Shiloh left some styling product, and I run it through my hair so it will behave. Since it’s a holiday, I grabbed some cologne from my medicine cabinet, just because.
Spying on our guests is my way of stalling.
There’s a nip in the air when I exit my apartment, and I skip down the stairs to the back of the main building, opening the sliding glass door. There’s no one in the living room; most of the sound is coming from the foyer.
I wasn’t nervous, but I am now.
Time to load up on some bourbon. Reid greets me, trying to hug me, but I squirm out of his grasp. All I care about is whiskey.
He asks me when I got my hair cut, and I grumble out a response. My family closes in on me, staring at me, commenting on the new look. I didn’t think this all the way through, but it’s fine, I just need whiskey now more than ever.
My parents don’t have quite the excellent selection I do, so I pick a new bottle of Four Roses and look for a tool to cut the seal.
“Jackson, let’s wait to eat before you open the whiskey.”
Breathe in, breathe out.
