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I offered to pick up Jackson so I could be his designated driver. My end of the bargain was the ugly Christmas sweater, and he gave me a death stare when he saw the sweater in all its glory.
I laughed for three minutes.
There’s no hand touching or even singing on the way to the party. Everything is chill and casual between us.
You have been friend zoned, I think to myself, and I could cry it’s so depressing.
We have so much fun together, and he told me I’m his best friend. Maybe that’s all he has in him, to be someone’s best friend right now. Although I would love to be promoted to lover. My mind races to inappropriate places all the time now.
His broad shoulders in that sweater are not helping.
“What are you thinking about?” Jackson asks.
Your tongue on my skin.“Pizza,” I blurt out.
“Honestly, same. Not your kind, though.”
“Pineapple on pizza is a delicacy,” I say.
“My mom only orders that for you. No one else touches it. Fruit on pizza is gross, Sunny.”
“People eat it! I’ve been to more of your family’s parties, and I can confirm Emily eats it too. There’s not a single chunk of pineapple left.”
“Traitor. We should turn her out of the family,” Jackson says.
“You can’t,” I say. “She’s my favorite Finch.”
His mouth drops like I just accused him of liking Fireball. “I thought I was your favorite.”
“I bet Emily would appreciate a sweater like that and wear it proudly.”
“This sweater is amazing. I love it. It’s so fancy.” He shimmies again to make the bells ring.
“That’s better.”
“Am I back on top?” he asks with a wink.
Don’t think about sex. Do not think about him over you,I repeat to myself, holding my steering wheel as a death grip. The night is peaceful as we drive. With the right soundtrack, it could be either the scene for a horror or a romantic comedy. It rained earlier so the roads have a sheen, and the moon is full in the sky. Jackson and I are nowhere near romance, but I like to think that we’re more than friends in this moment.
Even if it’s just pretend.
“You’re so quiet. Very unlike you.”
I laugh, because my mind speeds through thoughts, all about him. Still, I deny it. “Just watching the road.”
We arrive at the brewery and park in front. Jackson’s face grows paler, as he inhales and exhales dramatically.
“You’ll be fine. Everyone will be so happy to see you. I promise.”
“I hope so. At least this amazing sweater my beautiful friend got me will be distracting enough.”
Beautiful friend.I smile hard, to avoid any tears slipping free. This is a holiday party. No one should be sad at a holiday party.
Still, here I am, longing for something I can’t have.
We walk into the space, decorated in gold and green, Michael Bublé’s version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” playing from the speakers up front. The sweaters are tacky and exquisite, but Jackson has the best one. He’s been coming to more events, so people greet him with smiles and happiness, rather than curiosity or pity. He shakes the hands of everyone who approaches us. He told me a few weeks ago that I started a hug epidemic with him—people saw him hugging me with zero hesitation, so others started following suit. Cameron attacks him with a bear hug. Emily fits in his arms. Reid takes him in for a side hug.
I did that. It’s because of me.
