33 morning after confessions
The next morning feels unbearable before I even open my eyes.
For a few disoriented seconds, I lie completely still beneath my blankets, staring into darkness while exhaustion presses heavily against my skull. Then memory crashes back all at once.
I think I'm in love with her.
My stomach twists instantly.
Across the room, something shifts quietly.
Jackson.
Awake already.
Every muscle in my body tightens.
I keep my eyes closed for another second, trying to prepare myself for this somehow, but there's no preparing for hearing something like that from the guy who spent the last few weeks emotionally clotheslining you every chance he got.
Because that's the problem now.
Before last night, things were simple. Painful, humiliating, awful-but simple.
Jackson hurt me.
Jackson regretted whatever this was between us.
Jackson pushed me away because he didn't care enough to hold on.
Now everything's ruined because apparently he does care.
Apparently he's just catastrophically stupid about it.
The mattress across from mine creaks softly, followed by quiet footsteps moving around the room.
I finally force myself to open my eyes.
Gray morning light filters weakly through the blinds, washing the dorm in pale shadows. Jackson's standing near his dresser in sweatpants and a black hoodie, running a towel through damp hair like he just showered.
He glances over the second he notices movement from my bed.
Our eyes meet.
The tension is immediate. Thick enough to choke on.
"Morning," he says carefully.
Carefully, like he already knows things are fragile.
I sit up slowly, trying not to think about the fact that six hours ago I heard him admit he loved me.
"Morning."
My voice sounds rough.
Jackson hesitates for a second like he wants to say something else, but whatever it is never makes it out. Instead he nods once and looks away first.
That shouldn't hurt.
Somehow it still does.
I climb out of bed and grab clothes for the shower without looking at him again, but I can feel his attention following me anyway. The awareness of him feels sharper now, almost unbearable, because every tiny thing suddenly means too much.
The silence between us isn't angry anymore.
It's worse.
Confused.
When I come back from the bathroom twenty minutes later, Jackson's sitting at his desk pretending to scroll through his phone. Pretending badly, considering he hasn't actually moved for the last thirty seconds.
He looks up immediately when I walk in. "Coleman-"
The nickname lands differently now too.
Everything does.
I pause near my bed but don't look directly at him. "What?"
Jackson exhales quietly, leaning back slightly in his chair. "About last night..."
My pulse spikes so fast it's embarrassing.
He doesn't know I heard him.
God.
"I know I was out of line," he says carefully. "At the party."
Understatement of the century.
I fold clothes mechanically just to give myself something to do with my hands. "A little."
Jackson huffs out the faintest breath that almost sounds like a laugh, except there's nothing amused about it. "I'm serious, Everly."
The use of my first name makes me glance up before I can stop myself.
Big mistake.
Because he looks exhausted. Not regular tired. Not hungover.
Ruined.
Dark circles sit beneath his eyes like he didn't sleep at all, and guilt's written so clearly across his face it physically pulls at something inside me.
Which is incredibly inconvenient considering I'm still mad at him.
Jackson rubs a hand across the back of his neck before speaking again. "I shouldn't've said what I said. Or acted like that."
I swallow hard.
You're fucking unbelievable.
The memory flashes hot and sharp between us.
"I know," I answer quietly.
His jaw tightens slightly.
For a second it looks like he's about to say something bigger. Something dangerous.
Instead he just nods once.
Coward.
The thought arrives immediately, followed by another one that's somehow worse.
No. Scared.
Because now I know the difference.
And knowing changes everything.
The silence stretches too long again after that. I can practically feel both of us standing on the edge of a conversation neither one knows how to survive.
Eventually Jackson looks down at the floor.
"I'm trying here," he says quietly.
The honesty in his voice catches me off guard enough that my chest aches.
I look away first. "I know."
That seems to affect him more than it should.
The room goes quiet after that, heavy and strange and full of things neither of us knows how to say out loud yet.
-
By the time I leave for class later, my emotions are so tangled together I genuinely feel dizzy from it.
Nola notices immediately.
Obviously.
"You look insane," she says the second I sit beside her in psych lecture.
"Thank you."
"No, like actually emotionally unstable." She squints at me harder. "What happened now?"
I open my laptop too aggressively. "Nothing."
"Liar."
"Nola."
"Everly."
I glare at her.
She grins.
Ordinarily that would make me laugh at least a little, but today my brain's still stuck inside last night replaying the same six words over and over again until I think I might actually lose my mind.
I think I'm in love with her.
Nola's expression shifts almost immediately.
The teasing fades first, then concern slides into its place.
"Okay," she says more carefully now. "What happened?"
I stare down at my keyboard for a long moment before answering.
Because saying it out loud somehow makes it real.
And once it's real, I have absolutely no idea what I'm supposed to do with it.
Finally, quietly, "I heard him talking to his sister last night."
Nola blinks once. "What?"
I swallow hard. "After the party. He thought I was asleep."
The confusion on her face lasts about two seconds before realization detonates across it all at once.
"Oh my God."
Several people turn around.
Nola lowers her voice immediately but somehow still manages to look like she's internally screaming. "What did he say?"
I hesitate.
Because hearing it hurt.
But somehow hearing it also healed something at the exact same time, and I don't know what to do with that contradiction yet.
My voice comes out quieter this time. "He said he thinks he's in love with me."
Nola stops functioning.
Actually stops.
Her mouth drops open so dramatically I almost laugh despite myself. "What?"
I stare straight ahead at the lecture screen. "Yeah."
"WHAT?"
A girl two rows down turns around.
Nola ignores her completely.
I rub both hands over my face, already exhausted again. "See? This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you."
"He's in love with you?" she whisper-yells. "After emotionally terrorizing you for weeks?"
"That was basically Jenny's reaction too."
Nola freezes. "Wait. Jenny called him out?"
"Repeatedly."
That finally gets a startled laugh out of her. Mine follows a second later before I can stop it.
The sound fades quickly though.
Because underneath all the confusion and embarrassment and lingering hurt is one awful realization I can't escape no matter how hard I try.
This should've made things easier.
Instead everything somehow became infinitely messier.