"It doesn't matter," I finally say. "Too much time has passed, too many things left unsaid."
"You know," Carter says, his words starting to slur, "for someone so smart, you're kind of an idiot."
I laugh despite myself. "Gee, thanks."
"No, seriously." He sits up, poking my shoulder for emphasis. "You're running from the one person who actually gets you. The one who was there and stayed through all your shit. Because, what? You're afraid he might care too much?"
Put that way, it does sound ridiculous, but it's not that simple. It never is.
"I can't be responsible for someone else missing out on the future they deserve, especially him," I insist. "I won't be that person."
"Did you ever think maybe you robbed him of the future he wanted by leaving?" Carter asks, his voice softening. "That maybe he knew the risks but thought they were worth it anyway?"
The question hits me like a physical blow. Had I been so wrapped up in my own fear that I'd missed what was right in front of me? Maybe Jaxon hadn't seen me as a burden but as a choice he wanted to make?
I glance over, half-expecting Carter's eyes to be on me with understanding, but his head is lolling against his wrist, soft snores betraying his inebriated state. Well, at least he tried.
Shaking my head, I pull the blanket from the foot of the bed and drape it over him.
Quietly, I sneak out of Carter’s bedroom before heading back to the party. My eyes instinctually scan the room, looking for the boy with brown hair and matching eyes, but I don’t see him.
I've lost count of how many times I've wondered what lifewould look like if I hadn't overheard Jaxon talking to his mom that night. What if I hadn't let fear scare me into carving a giant divide between us? What if I hadn't pushed away from the one person who'd been there for me through every shattering moment of my childhood?
But now, seeing him again, I feel every single shard of those feelings. It's a reminder that no matter how much I try to bury it, Jaxon still makes me feel things no one else ever has. Just seeing him today has me all shook up like a bottle of soda, just waiting to explode.
For the last three years, I convinced myself he was better off without me, that the feelings I had for my best friend had faded into nothing. I've hooked up with other guys, gone through the motions of moving forward, so why does seeing Jaxon now make it feel like these feelings never left? Like these past three years have been nothing but a placeholder, a poor substitute for what I really wanted but was too afraid to reach for?
I realize with startling clarity that I've been lying to myself, running from the truth that's been chasing me for years.
Jaxon’s feelings weren’t one sided.
6
JAXON
The party replays in my mind over the weekend like a broken record, each skip more painful than the last.
I increase the pace of my run, forcing my legs to stretch even more for the last mile back to my place. I've faced down linebackers twice my size without flinching, but the thought of losing Madison before I even had a real chance with her?
That shit hits hard.
Turning the corner on my block, I run inside to snag a quick shower before I head to class.
Glancing at the time on my phone, I run a towel over my head before grabbing my keys and my backpack. If I time it right, I have just enough time to make a pit stop before heading to math.
The bell above the door chimes as I push into Java Junction, the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee enveloping me. The shop buzzes with morning energy, students clustered around tables, laptops open, and voices mingling with the hiss of the espresso machine.
I hop in line, my eyes scanning the menu board even though I know exactly what I'm here for. Then, my mind ends up in the yard of Madison’s old house nine years ago.
She’s barefoot, soaked from the sprinklers, laughing like the world never hurt her.
God, that laugh. It’s loud and messy and hers. Madison’s got grass stuck to her calves, her ponytail clinging to the back of her neck, and she’s wearing some old t-shirt that hangs halfway down her thighs. It doesn’t match her neon shorts, but it doesn’t matter. She’s still the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.
We’re sitting on her driveway, knees sunburnt, popsicles melting fast in the heat. Mine’s red. Hers is blue. I used to like blue, but she said it was her favorite, so now, I let her have it.
She flops onto her back, arms out, like she’s trying to hug the sky. “What do you wanna be when you grow up?”
It catches me off guard. I lick the sticky red sugar from my fingers. I’ve loved football since my dad took me to my first game. “I dunno. NFL player, maybe. Like the ones on the tv.”
