Jackson
I’m falling for Priya Sharma, and it’s both the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
Best because she’s brilliant, passionate and challenges me in ways no one else does. Worst because I know she’s scared, know she’s not ready to acknowledge what’s happening between us, know that any day she might decide this is too much and walk away.
We’ve been secretly together for three weeks now. Three weeks of stolen kisses between classes, late-night study sessions that turn into more, anatomy labs that test my self-control.
The team is starting to notice something’s different about me. Carter cornered me after practice yesterday, asking point-blank if I was seeing someone. I denied it, protecting Priya, protecting what we have, but I know he didn’t believe me.
“You’ve got that look,” he said. “That stupid happy look people get when they’re falling in love.”
“I don’t have a look.”
“You do. It’s annoying.”
Maybe I do have a look. Because I’m falling in love with her, even though she’s made it clear she can’t give me anything more than these secret moments.
Right now, we’re in my studio. It’s two in the morning on a Friday night, and we’re both supposed to be studying for exams next week. Instead, we’re lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, talking about nothing and everything.
“Tell me about your family,” I say.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. Where you grew up, what your parents are like, whether you have siblings.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I grew up in Boston. Only child. My parents met at Harvard Medical School and have been high achievers their entire lives. My mom is a cardiothoracic surgeon at Mass General. My dad is a neurosurgeon at the same hospital. They work eighty-hour weeks and expect excellence in everything.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is. But it’s also all I know.” She turns her head to look at me. “What about you?”
“Working-class Puerto Rican family in Providence. Mom’s a nurse, dad works construction.
Three younger sisters who I adore and who drive me crazy in equal measure.
” I smile. “They know I paint. They support it, even if they don’t totally understand it.
Hockey’s just my way of paying for art school. ”
“Do they know about RISD?”
“Yeah. They’re proud. Confused about how I got in, but proud.”
“Why confused?”
“Because I’m a hockey player. People don’t expect athletes to be artists.”
“That’s stupid.”
“It is. But it’s also reality.” I reach over, taking her hand. “You never answered my question from last week.”
“What question?”
“What do you actually want? Not the rehearsed answer. The real one.”
She’s quiet for so long I think she won’t answer. “I want to feel like I’m living my life instead of following a script. I want to make choices because I want them, not because they’re expected. I want…” She trails off.
“What?”
“I want this. Us. Whatever this is. Even though it terrifies me.”
“Why does it terrify you?” I ask.
“Because I can’t control it. Can’t predict it. Can’t plan for how I feel when I’m with you.”
“And how do you feel when you’re with me?”
She turns to face me fully. “Alive. Real. Like I’m allowed to be messy and imperfect and it’s okay.”
“It is okay. Better than okay. I like you messy and imperfect.”
“Jackson…”
“I love you, Priya. I know we said this was casual, but I love you.”
Her eyes widen. “You can’t.”
“Too late. I’m in love with you.”
“This was supposed to be simple.”
“It’s never been simple. Not for me.” I cup her face gently. “And I don’t think it’s been simple for you either.”
“It hasn’t,” she admits, tears glistening in her eyes. “I keep trying to keep this separate, keep it compartmentalized, but I can’t. Because I love you too,and that terrifies me more than anything.”
“Why?”
“Because loving you means choosing you. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to do that. I don't know if I can choose something for myself when everyone expects me to choose medicine.”
She sounds so broken at the moment, and all I want to do is make her feel safe, let her know she can have it all.
“You can choose both.”
“Can I? Because it doesn’t feel that way.”
I pull her into my arms, holding her close. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”