Jameson
I’m exhausted and dirty, but after my talk with Garrison today, this couldn’t wait. I pull up in front of Travis’s home and hope like hell I can get my knees to stop shaking long enough to walk up to the door.
I can do this.
I force myself to walk up to the front door of a house I’ve been to many times but not recently. I knock on the door, waiting to see Trav’s face, more than likely filled with horror. But we can’t keep going like this.
Guilt surges through me because I’ve known her for so long, and she’s always been like a second mom to me.
She’s right though. I haven’t been around for a long time.
“Um, hi. I’m sorry. I’ve been kind of busy.
” I feel like even more of a jackass now.
But she doesn’t call me out and instead, opens the door further.
“Well, come on in. It’s chilly out there.”
I smile as I walk inside, breathing in a delicious smell I have no doubt is something she’s been baking. She loves to bake. “Mom, who’s here?” My body stiffens when I hear Travis’s voice, and I grow even more tense when I see the look on his face when he sees me. “Jameson?”
“Hey.” I wave awkwardly. “I was wondering if we could hang out for a bit.”
“Of course, you can, sweetie,” his mom answers for him.
She looks at Travis. “Your dad is working late, so we’ll have dinner later.
But I made an apple pie.” She walks over to the oven, and sure enough, she pulls a freshly baked pie from inside, placing it on the counter.
“I’ll get you boys some pie and milk. You can take it up to your room. ”
“Mom, we don’t need pie,” he starts to argue, but I don’t let him off easy—because enough is enough.
“I’d love some actually. It’s been too long.
” I offer my kindest smile to his mother, and Travis looks like he wants to kill me.
She doesn’t seem to notice as she cuts two pieces, placing them on plates.
And yes, she gives us each a glass of milk, handing them to us and nodding toward the stairs to Trav’s room.
When we make it into his room, he quickly closes the door and places his plate and glass on his desk, turning to me with his arms crossed. “Why are you here? What are you thinking?”
I put my plate and glass next to his and sit on the edge of his neatly made bed. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry I kissed you.”
He sucks in a deep breath, his eyes darting to the door as he moves closer to me. “Keep it down.”
“Trav.” I shake my head, pushing my fingers through my hair. “What we did wasn’t shameful. It wasn’t wrong. I mean, not kissing another guy.”
“Stop,” he says, his eyes desperate as he pleads with me.
“It was wrong, though, because you’re my best friend, and now, you can’t even look at me. So, I’m sorry. So damn sorry.”
“I . . .” He looks unsure as he takes a seat at his desk chair, keeping his distance. “God, I have to get out of here, J. I can’t be stuck here. And I just . . . when Dixon . . .” He sighs, exasperated and so damn lost. His eyes meet mine. “And then, I heard all the bullshit in the locker room.”
My stomach clenches violently. I know his one goal is to get out of here.
He’s smart—really fucking smart. The kind of smart where they wanted to put him in special classes and let him skip a grade, but his dad wouldn’t have it.
Believe it or not, his dad wanted him to have more time playing football.
His dad is great, he really is. He loves Travis—his only son—but he was a super jock in school.
He doesn’t understand Travis’s obsession with reading and learning.
He just wants to play catch with him when he gets home from work.
And Travis is good, don’t get me wrong, but he’s on the smaller side, and his heart isn’t in it.
Not at all.
“Dixon isn’t going to say anything.”
He scoffs, his eyes rolling in his head. “Yeah, right. It’s Dixon. He loves telling stories and getting attention.”
I know that’s how we both see him, but I’m starting to think there might be a little more to Garrison Dixon. Though I don’t know what. “I know he’s loud, but I don’t think he’s going to say anything. He promised me he isn’t.”
He doesn’t look certain at all, and I get that. “Oh well, if he promised.” Sarcasm laces his words.
“He’s not going to,” I say more definitively because I believe him, and I want Travis to know that. “He won’t.”
“I have to get out of here. I can’t stand it here.” Pain shoots through me because I know he’s had it rough. While most of us are avoiding college, he’s been working his ass off. He’s been hoping for a scholarship to college because he knows his parents won’t pay for it.
“You’ll get into a good school, Trav. No doubt.”
“I can’t be distracted.”
“And while I get that.” And I really do. “You can’t avoid your best friend. I won’t try to kiss you again, don’t worry.” I grin. “You’re really not my type.”
He actually smiles at that. “Yeah, right back at ya.”
I laugh because that was never really a question. While I saw curiosity there, I know he’s not into me. “What’s your type then, huh? Big jock? Smart professor type? Big brain?” I tease. “That’s totally it, isn’t it?”
He laughs. “Actually, I think . . .” He shakes his head like he can’t believe we’re talking about this. “I think a nerdy twink is in my future.” I raise my brows at him, surprised but laughing. “Yeah, I just gotta get to college.”
“So it’s a big-brain situation.”
“Yeah. And maybe someone smaller than me.”
I feel oddly relieved because we’re talking. “You’ll get that. You’ll get out of here and find exactly what you want, Travis. I have no doubt.”
“What about you, J? What do you want?”
I shrug because I honestly have no idea. I know I see Travis as a friend. That despite him being really good-looking in almost a pretty way, I’m not attracted to him. “I don’t know yet.”
“Just don’t go for the big-ass dumb jock, okay?” He grins, and I frown, wondering where that came from.
“Why would I?”
He shrugs. “Because that’s literally all there is around here. Meatheads. Dumbasses like Dixon and fucking Oakley.”
I grin at that because okay, yeah, they’ve kind of always been the butt of our jokes. The typical large, loud jocks who think they rule the school, but for some reason I can’t explain, I don’t like him describing Dixon that way. “Dixon might not be so bad.”
He studies me carefully. “Please tell me you haven’t fallen for the straight jock. That’s so cliché and sad.”
I laugh at that. “Hell no. That’ll never happen, not in a million years. But maybe he’s not such an asshole. And I know he won’t tell.”
“I hope you’re right. I can’t do it. I can’t stand the jokes and the fucking backward commentary if they find out. I’m so close to getting out of here.”
“Yeah, you are.” I look right at him, offering a sad smile. “And I’m going to miss you when you do.”
He looks guilty now, moving over to the bed to sit next to me. “I’m going to miss you too. I’m sorry I was such a chickenshit.”
“I get it. I really do. But I can’t take it.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and then we move on to other topics, falling right back into our friendship.
And I hate that I owe Dixon for this. And I know it.