21. Jackson
Jackson
I stared at the letter until the ink seemed to vibrate against the page.
My heart was doing a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs that had nothing to do with the practice we just finished.
I felt a sudden, sharp spike of insecurity that made my hands shake.
I’ve been through this before—the misinterpreted signals, the hope that turns into a punch to the gut when someone tells me I’ve read too much into a friendly gesture. I couldn’t lose Splash, not like this.
“He said I broke him, Logan! What the hell does that mean? Does it mean he’s into me, or is he just…
I don’t know, shocked that I’d send a picture like that?
” I looked up at Logan, my voice cracking with a vulnerability I usually kept locked behind a joke.
“What if I’ve just made everything incredibly awkward?
What if he thinks I’m some shallow jock just looking to hook up? ”
Logan stopped pulling off his compression shorts and stepped right in front of my locker, his expression shifting from playful to serious. “Read me his exact words again, Jackson. Word for word.”
I unfolded the paper, my fingers tracing the lines I’d already memorized.
“I think you broke me. I mean… wow, Jackson. That picture. Fuck.” I looked at Logan, desperate for a translation.
“Is that flirting? Or is that just… surprise? Maybe he’s offended?
He’s a soldier, Logan. He deals with life and death every day.
Why would he want to deal with a guy who sends him shirtless photos from his beach house?
Oh god, he hasn’t even said that he’s bi or gay! ” planting my face in my hands… Fuck.
Donovan sat down on the bench on my other side, leaning in close.
“Hayes, look at me. People don’t say ‘wow’ and ‘fuck’ followed by a name unless they’re feeling something.
You’re overthinking this because you’re scared.
You’ve spent so much time being messed about that you don’t know how to handle it when someone actually sees you.
” He reached out and tapped the letter. “He didn’t say ‘don’t do that again.
’ He didn’t stop writing. He said you broke him. That’s a reaction. A big one.”
“But what if he’s just being nice because I send him the good cookies?” I persisted, the insecurity a cold weight in my stomach. “I need to know for sure. I can’t just assume.”
Logan rolled his eyes, but his hand on my shoulder was grounding.
“Hayes, the man drew a duck wearing hockey skates for you. He’s thousands of miles away in a desert, and he’s thinking about your sport and your face.
Now he’s seen your body, and he’s telling you it ‘broke’ him.
He’s flirting, you idiot. He’s absolutely, one hundred percent into you. ”
I took a deep, shaky breath, letting their words settle. The fear didn’t go away, but it felt manageable now, countered by their certainty. “Ok,” I whispered, looking back at the letter. “Ok. He likes me.” Fuck he might actually like me… try telling my brain that!