Chapter 27
BEFORE
February, Ten Years Ago
By the time my eighteenth birthday came around, Jackson and Sophie had been together for six months.
Things had been chill between Jackson and I since New Year’s, and we both acted like the conversation in Julie’s room never happened.
I mostly avoided him and Sophie when we got back to school after winter break, because I knew the girl hated me even more than she used to.
My mom hadn’t so much as called me to wish me a happy birthday, and Peter . . . well, I honestly don’t think he even remembered it was my birthday.
I woke up to see a voice mail from Julie, left at three am.
She was drunkenly singing Happy Birthday to me, and I realized it must’ve been sent at midnight in California time.
She mailed me a new pair of high-top Converse for my birthday; pristine and white, with red and blue stripes around the soles.
I still liked my ratty black pair from my sixteenth birthday better.
After school I met Jackson at his truck in the parking lot, and he took me to the only place I requested we go for my birthday.
“You sure this is all you want for your birthday?” Jackson asked when we stepped into the shop.
“Yes, all I want is my nose pierced.”
We looked through the cases, picking out a silver hoop and signing papers before I hopped up in the chair. My eyes watered as the needle went through my nose, but I loved how I looked after. I was officially an adult. It was so freeing to be able to make a decision like this for myself now.
“I can’t believe you’ll get a piercing, but you won’t get a tattoo,” Jackson said.
I shrugged. “Piercings are a fast process. Tattoos are slower. Plus, you can take out a piercing—you can’t take off a tattoo.”
Jackson pondered this for a moment, then said, “You know what? I want one now, too.”
“Of course you do, copycat.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Maybe I just want to match with you,” he said with a bat of his eyelashes.
We ended up switching chairs, and the piercer started sterilizing another silver hoop for Jackson.
“What side should I get it done on?” Jackson asked as he looked back and forth at himself in a handheld mirror.
“You should get the left side, same as your girlfriend; that way they won’t get snagged when you kiss,” the piercer said. I almost choked on my spit.
“Oh, we’re just—” I started to say before Jackson gave me a look that said, Play along with it. I hated him, but it also made my stomach flip that the piercer thought he was my boyfriend.
“That’s a great idea. Left side it is,” Jackson said with a giant smile. “Any other areas you suggest piercings?”
The piercer looked at me. “You know all jewelry is ten dollars off for your birthday. You could get your nipples done, too.”
My hands flew over my chest as my face turned beet red. Jackson was hollering; he had tears in his eyes from how hard he was laughing.
“Babe, you should definitely get those done,” Jackson said devilishly. I hated how the word “babe” coming from his mouth made my heart race.
“We’re through,” I said, deadpan, as I stood up from the bench. “I hope you cry when he pierces your nose.”
I walked out the room to peer into the different glass cases while Jackson got his nose done. I didn’t hear so much as a peep from him.
***
Even though I told Jackson all I wanted to do was get my nose pierced for my birthday, he took me to an indoor glow golf course.
“I haven’t played mini-golf in forever. I think the last time we went was with Julie before she moved,” I said.
Jackson handed me an orange ball while he grabbed a blue one. “Yeah, same. I wish she flew back for your birthday.”
I sighed. “Yeah, me, too. But she called and left a voice mail.”
Jackson started writing our names on the playing card as we stepped up to hole 1. “She’s flying back for graduation, at least.”
“It’s coming up so fast.” I balanced my putter between my legs while I tied my hair up into a ponytail. I crinkled my nose, and a little pinprick of pain radiated from where I’d just gotten it pierced.
“Don’t remind me,” Jackson said. Graduation was a sore subject right now, because neither of us had a plan for the fall.
Jackson took his turn first, the ball bouncing off the wall and ending up mere inches from the hole.
“Can you go easy on me? It is my birthday after all,” I joked as I bent forward to swing at my ball.
“It’s ‘cause you always smack it too hard. Hit it lighter,” Jackson said.
I took a deep breath and lightly tapped the ball. It hardly rolled a foot. Jackson burst out laughing. “Not that light. Here, let me show you.”
Jackson stepped behind me to put his hands around mine on the club, but I whipped around and pushed him back. “Stop,” I said firmly.
His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
He never tried to touch me like this when he was sober, and as I gauged his reaction, I wondered if he even remembered the times he’d touched me when he was drunk. The ways he’d touched me.
I attempted to play it off. “I was trying to hustle you. I know what I’m doing.”
He gave me a smile, and one of the overhead lights reflected off his nose ring, which was a reverse mirror image of mine. “You’re a menace, Addie.”
I waved him off before I hit the ball, firmly but with less pressure. It rolled down the course and bumped into his ball, pushing it farther away from the hole. I shivered at the metaphor that it represented between us; he got too close, and I pushed him away.
“Hey, you hit my ball!” Jackson whined.
“Which one? Your testicular torsion ball?” I teased.
Jackson gasped and shoved me in the shoulder, causing me to lose my balance as we walked to take our second turns. “Don’t make jokes about the worst thing to ever happen to me.”
“But it’s my birthday,” I said as I batted my eyelashes.
“Then stop thinking about my balls,” Jackson said as he nudged me in the shoulder with his own.
“Trust me, that’s the last thing on my mind,” I shot back.
Jackson stared at me with an amused look before shaking his head. “You’re lucky it’s your birthday,” he mumbled. We both broke into laughter.
***
After we played mini-golf, we swung by Delvecchios’ for pizza, and everyone who was working sang Happy Birthday to me while I blew out the single candle that was placed in the cannoli in front of me. I took one bite before handing it to Jackson to finish off.
“Do you want to come over for a little? I picked up The Hunger Games: Mockingjay - Part 1 from Redbox.” Jackson wiggled his eyebrows. I smiled, thinking about our matching Peeta and Katniss costumes from his parents’ anniversary party when we were sophomores.
“I heard Peeta is barely in the movie, but obviously yes,” I said.
Jackson drove us back to his house, and we sat on opposite sides of the couch. Both of us got bored during the movie, and since his parents were at the restaurant, we each took a shot of whiskey from Phil’s stash.
“Can I ask you something?” I couldn’t stop thinking of the coke Jackson had done at the New Year’s party, and I needed to know if it was something he did on the regular.
“Shoot.”
He pulled himself up to sit on the counter. I took the bottle out of his hands and placed it back in the cabinet so he wouldn’t take another shot before driving me home.
“What was up with the coke at the party? Is that like, a regular thing for you?” I asked with caution.
Jackson was chewing on the inside of his lip, like he felt regretful.
“I’ve done it a couple times, but no. It’s not a regular thing. Sophie and I had a fight before we picked you up, and I just wanted to feel better,” he admitted.
I nodded my head like I understood. “Well on that note, can you take me home? School tomorrow.” I gave a thumbs down and protruded my lower lip.
On the way home we blasted the music, singing along to “Maybe Next May” by Secrets. When we pulled into the driveway, I was out of breath from our car concert. I looked over at Jackson, and he had a hand over his chest as he tried to even his own breathing after the exertion of singing.
This was one of the first times in a while we were in the truck alone without Sophie or Julie. I was having such a good time spending time with him by myself, and I wasn’t ready to go inside, but I knew being alone with him in an enclosed space wasn’t a good idea for my well-being.
“Thanks, Jackson. That was a good day. I needed that,” I said.
Jackson smiled at me, then leaned forward to give me a hug.
I hesitated before putting my arms around his neck.
I tried to keep my breathing even, to not give away how much this was affecting me, being this close.
The second he started rubbing his thumb against my back, I shot away without making eye contact.
“I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” I said as I grabbed my purse and hopped out the truck.
“Happy birthday, Addison,” Jackson called out from the open window. I tried to ignore the way him saying my full name still made my blood feel as thick as maple syrup.