Without rehearsal, I’m stuck at school until Jasmine or Bowie can give me a ride home. Which means I don’t have a decent excuse when Bowie asks if I can help rearrange the choir room for the GSA meeting.
Granted, Bowie needs all the help they can get, since Cheyenne, the GSA president—a white senior demigirl—seems to have abdicated their responsibilities come down with the flu over break.
“Jackson! Good to see you, bro. How was your Christmas?” Braden swoops in, grabs a bunch of chairs, and starts lining up another row, treating it like some sort of race.
Getting bro’d my first day back isn’t exactly an auspicious beginning to the year.
“You staying for the meeting?”
“Just helping Bowie. I heard Cheyenne was sick.”
“Ah, well.” Braden shrugs, then turns and salutes Bowie. “Our fearless VP will get us through it.”
I’ve got no doubt about that. Bowie should just do a coup at this point.
Over Braden’s shoulder, I spot Liam in the hall, backpack slung over his shoulder. He gives me a little wave.
I wave back.
Braden notices and waves Liam in.
“Hey, bro. You here for the meeting?”
“Just looking for Jackson.”
“Cool.” Braden gives Liam a backhanded pat across the stomach; Liam’s core is so strong he doesn’t even flinch. “You should start coming. All are welcome, you know.”
Liam shrugs, but Braden turns back to me with a dimpled smile and a wink. “You too. You’re not still mad about Rocky Horror, are you?”
Yes. No.
But Braden doesn’t wait for an answer, just hefts another stack of chairs and gets to work.
Liam waves at Bowie, then signs to me.
“You want a ride home? I don’t have anything today.”
“Oh. Really?”
I’ve never ridden anywhere with Liam before.
Bowie gives me a gentle shove in Liam’s direction. “Go on. Braden and I can finish.”
“You sure?”
“Go, go. You might as well.”
I’ve got about a million reasons that I might as well not.
But as Liam gives me a soft, questioning smile, I can’t manage to think of a single one.
Liam’s crappy brown Corolla pulls to a stop in front of my house, its idle engine vibrating my seat so hard I think my insides might liquify.
IT’S THE COLOR OF BROWN PANTS
UGLY BROWN CARGO PANTS WITH PLEATS
HEATER BLOWS SO HARD IT DRIES MY EYES OUT
GLOVE BOX WON’T STAY LATCHED SHUT
IT SMELLS LIKE HIM
HE’S RIGHT NEXT TO ME
HE DOES THAT THING WHERE HE PUTS HIS ARM ACROSS THE BACK OF THE PASSENGER SEAT WHEN HE BACKS OUT
Liam’s grip on the steering wheel loosens and he turns to me to sign.
“Hey.”
“Hey?”
“You sure we’re good?”
“Of course.”
He nods. “Did you give me your own shmoodie this morning?”
I shake my head and press my lips together.
“Jackson . . .”
Caught.
“You looked like you needed it.”
He lets out a slow breath and rests his hand on my knee.
I think I might literally melt on the spot.
“You’re a good friend, Jacks,” he says aloud.
“You are too. Your signing is getting really good.”
His cheeks turn a beautiful crimson.
“Thank you.”
His hand is still on my knee, and I think I’m having heart palpitations. Because he’s touching me.
I know it’s only friendly. Like him tucking in my tags. But he’s touching me, and my knees aren’t anywhere near my crotch but they’re also not that far away, and it’s just a hand, a warm friendly hand, but my jeans start feeling tight.
My breath hitches. “I better . . .” I reach for my backpack, and he releases me as I cover my lap with it.
“See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah. See you.”
I wait for him to drive away, backpack held in front of me, teeth chattering—the sun’s come out, and the roads are clear, but the wind is still biting—then let myself into the garage. The Crock-Pot is going: Amy must’ve started it this morning, but she and Dad are still at work. The house is empty.
My knee is burning from where Liam touched me. And so’s another part of me, burning and fighting against my underwear, and thank god no one is home right now to see me.
I shouldn’t feel this way, because even though he’s not with Jasmine anymore, he’s still off-limits. More off-limits than ever, because now he’s broken Jasmine’s heart and she holds grudges the way a theatre holds glitter: forever and ever, long past the heat death of the universe.
But I can’t stop the way I feel about him. And I’m not sure I even want to.
My jeans are still too tight. I run to my room and lock the door just in case.