Everyone is happy.
It’s weird.
Every single one of us being so completely content is downright weird. Kind of unnerving, too. I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to shatter our perfect little world. But I try not to dwell on that feeling of impending doom too much.
After a relatively rocky Christmas and New Year, the world has righted itself and Amelia and Nick are in an actual relationship. A somewhat secret one, but a relationship all the same. Kate and Sydney are as sickeningly happy and perfect as always. Ben’s standard setting is happy so no surprises there. Cass has been in a perpetually pleasant state since he walked into his house months ago and found Amelia lounging on his sofa, so again, no big shock.
And I have Jackson.
The boy who loves me.
The first of his kind.
He’s not shy about dropping those three little words and every time he says it, my stomach swirls with a mixture of guilt, nerves and excitement. He doesn’t seem to care that I can’t say it back. But I do. I want to say it, I really do. But I don’t want to say it when I’m not sure. I need to be sure. I want the first time I say those words to someone other than my mother or my friends to be real. I want to completely mean it with everything in me.
He deserves for me to mean it.
I can only pray he sticks around long enough for me to figure it out.
Sighing, I roll over in bed, his bed, trying and failing to get comfortable. Unfortunately, it’s hard when you’re slowly freezing to death. I swear the heating in this house is permanently on the fritz. I usually use Jackson as my main source of heat but he’s missing this morning.
Actually, he’s been missing every morning this week; long, early pre-season baseball practices are my nemesis. I’m excited to see him play and all, but waking up alone on deathly cold mornings is simply not worth it.
I groan when my alarm goes off, reminding me that I should get up soon. I’m supposed to be meeting the girls, but I want to say bye to Jackson before I leave. Maybe squeeze in a quickie too, if I’m lucky.
A little hopeful rush of excitement creeps up my spine when the bedroom door creaks open, only to be dashed by Ben’s head peeking around the door. He’s got his hand over his eyes, squinting through his fingers, an almost fearful expression on his face. The poor boy accidentally walked in on me naked one time and he hasn’t quite been the same since. “You decent?”
For once, yes; if Jackson can’t keep me warm, his hoodie is the next best thing. Lifting the duvet just enough for Ben to slip in, I pat the space next to me. “Get in.”
He doesn’t hesitate, dive-bombing onto the bed, shivering as he snuggles under the covers. “Fucking hell, it’s cold.”
Grumbling in agreement, I hook my legs around Ben’s and yank him closer so I can steal some of his warmth. “Skipping practice?”
“Nah, we finished half an hour ago,” he murmurs into my chest as he uses my boobs for a pillow. “Your boyfriend should be back soon. Think he went on a Starbucks run.”
Yeah, I may have threatened bodily harm if Jackson didn’t return home with a piping hot beverage and a muffin in hand. In my defense, he knows better than to wake me up at the crack of dawn, even if it was for a kiss goodbye.
Hooking my arms around Ben, I give his back a soft pat. “How’s life, Benny?”
“Good,” he murmurs against my chest. “Busy.”
I huff. You can say that again. I barely see the kid during the week. He’s always running between class and practice and God knows where else. I suspect there’s a secret man in the picture, but for such an open person, Ben tends to keep his love life pretty much on the down-low. I can never quite manage to pry any juicy gossip out of him. That doesn’t stop me from trying though. “Too busy for a boyfriend?”
“Someone has to keep up the single legacy around here.”
“Come on.” I pout. “Not even a hook-up?”
“I hook up. I just don’t broadcast it like you freaks. Some of us are classier than that.”
That makes me snort. “If you’re not too booked and busy today, me and the girls are going to brunch.”
“I have plans.” How surprising. “But I’ll keep you company before your UberEats delivery arrives.”
We get halfway through an episode of Gossip Girl before Jackson finally appears. The sight of us curled up in his bed, his laptop propped up between us, makes him pause for only a moment before he shakes his head with a laugh.
Crossing the room, he drops a kiss on my forehead and sets what looks like a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin on the nightstand before flicking Ben’s forehead. “Stop groping my girlfriend.”
Ben pats my chest. “But she’s so comfy.”
Jackson rolls his eyes as he starts undressing, dropping his bag on the floor and stripping off his sweaty t-shirt. “Unless you wanna see my balls, Benny boy,” he says as he starts to tug down his sweats, “get out.”
Ben’s face twists. “Ew. Gross.” Kissing my cheek, he flees the room as fast as his long legs will carry him.
The moment the door closes behind him, Jackson’s naked and coming at me for a real kiss. “I’m not sure how I feel about coming home to you in bed with another man,” he teases, nipping at my bottom lip playfully. Laughing, I hook a hand around his neck but he slips my grasp. “I gotta shower. Wanna join?”
Casting a glance at my phone, a groan escapes me. “Can’t. I have to meet the girls soon. If I’m late, they’ll kill me.”
His lips puff up in a cute pouty face but he doesn’t push. Pecking me again, he heads for the bathroom, giving me a spectacular view of his ass. That thing really is a work of art, adorned with blank ink high on one cheek. I’ve noticed it before but I’ve always forgotten to ask about it. Or, more specifically, I’ve been too distracted by the rest of his nakedness to care enough to ask. “Hey, what does that mean?”
Jackson freezes. A moment passes before he glances over his shoulder, feigning ignorance. “What does what mean?”
I give him a weird look. “The ass tattoo.”
“Uh, nothing.”
Hm. Suspicious. “It’s an ex-girlfriend’s name, isn’t it?”
“God, no.”
“Then what is it?”
There’s a long, long pause in which his face contorts in quite possibly the most uncomfortably flustered expression I’ve ever seen before he sighs and relents. “It’s Nick’s name.”
I blink. My gaze flickers between his completely serious expression and his ass. “Babe, I think that’s worse than an ex-girlfriend’s name.”
“We were drunk!”
“We?” I gape. “Nick has your name?”
His grim expression is all the confirmation I need.
“Oh my God.” I can’t stop laughing. I might actually die of laughter. Imagining a smashed Nick and Jackson stumbling into some random tattoo parlor and cementing their friendship in the form of matching tattoos on their fucking asscheeks has me falling onto my back and clutching my stomach.
God, I wonder if Amelia knows about this. I hope not, if only so I can be the one to break the news.
I attempt to sober up, propping myself up on my elbows, lips quivering with the effort of holding in my laugh. “Be honest with me. Are you in love with Nick? You can tell me, I promise I won’t tell anyone!”
“I hate you.”
Cocking my head, my lips pull in a smug smile. “Liar.”
Jackson softens. “Yeah.”
Partner-free days are decidedly rare lately.
Even today hasn’t been completely devoid of significant others; I spent the morning with Jackson, I’m pretty sure Nick is waiting impatiently in Amelia’s bed, and while Kate might pretend she’s so much better than us, I know for a fact that she has plans with Sydney later this afternoon.
But for now, for once, it’s just the three of us. I invited Pen but again, she rain-checked; apparently, shit really hit the fan at home over the holidays and she’s still suffering through the aftershocks. I’m yet to get the details on that one, but I’m sure I’ll wrestle them out of her at some point.
Honestly, a girl’s day devoted to pampering was desperately needed. After all the excessive drinking and eating I did over the holiday season, my skin is screaming for a facial. My nails were looking pretty desperate too, considering how many layers of nail polish I painted on and picked off over the course of a week.
Snapping a picture of my new pretty blue manicure, I send it to Jackson, hurriedly putting my phone away when I catch Kate smirking at me. I aim for nonchalance as I raise a brow and sip on the mimosa I ordered with brunch. “What?”
“Nothing,” she sings her reply. “Just remembering the days when relationships made you gag.”
Up goes a perfectly manicured middle finger in my friend’s direction. Kate just smiles while Amelia catches my hand in hers and studies my fresh nails, running a thumb over the pale blue polish. “Since when do you like blue?”
I snatch my hand away. “Since always.”
Kate snorts. “Since she got a boyfriend whose favorite color is blue.”
“Not everything in my life revolves around a boy, Kate,” I chide, tutting dramatically.
But she’s totally right. I definitely picked blue because it happens to be Jackson’s favorite color. And him happening to like the feeling of long nails scratching his back might have something to do with the longer-than-normal length too.
Judging by Kate’s knowing look, she’s already guessed as much. But, she drops it, instead focusing on the elaborate, mouth-watering menu laid out on the table in front of us.
I got to do the same, but my phone buzzing in my pocket distracts me. Leaning back slightly in my chair, I sneak a glance, expecting a reply from Jackson. Instead, a different name lights up my screen.
Nicolas Silva: Make sure she eats.
A second later, another message pings through.
Nicolas Silva: Please.
A soft ‘aw’ sound leaves me as I twist my phone so Amelia can see the screen. Amelia frowns for a moment before her eyes focus on the screen and her frown fades to a soft smile that she tries to hide behind an eye roll. “I swear, that boy is obsessed with my calorie intake.”
“I think it’s cute,” Kate coos. “He cares about you.”
“Hm.” My brows shoot up. “Cares. Is that the word we’re using?”
A light pink flushes Amelia’s pale cheeks. She pokes me with one of her freshly pointy nails. “Don’t start.”
I drop it, but only because the waiter appears to take our order and my growling stomach overrules how much I enjoy embarrassing my clueless red-headed friend. Without sharing my intentions with the others, I decide to take a leaf out of Ma’s book, ordering a bit of everything to share. When Amelia makes a face at the sheer amount of food I’m ordering, I nudge her pointedly. “Come on. Daddy’s orders.”
A dramatic shiver wracks her body as she pulls a face. “Please stop.”
“What? You getting all hot and bothered?”
“Enough!” The poor girl turns the same shade as her hair as she waves her hands frantically, as if to ward off my playful words. “Order whatever you want. I don’t just care. Just please stop talking.”
I just grin, patting my friend’s bright red cheek. “Good girl.”
