I am an idiot. 

I shouldn't have cheered. 

But I did and can I just say, I kept a straight face throughout all the pain. Actually, technically I smiled and performed my way through.

I purposely kept my eyes away from Jackson's prying ones during our performance. I knew he knew I shouldn't be up there, doing all these stunts. But I couldn't let the girls down especially since Nora was so nice to me the whole afternoon.

"Ivy, you were great! I still can't believe you quit." Some girl says from my right, another girl agreeing with her on my left. I smile at them both but it comes out more like a grimace. 

I am in an awful lot of pain.

"Ives, we missed your spirit up here so much." Faye says as she pulls me away to where she and Nora were standing. I give her a small smile and I can't help but turn and look around for Jackson. I didn't know whether he was still going to come to mine, whether I needed to ask my parents for a lift now or whether Jackson is going to drive us back.

"He's over there." Nora nudges me and I shamelessly follow her eyes to where Jackson was standing. I hate how she knew who I was looking for.

He was stood alone, staring over at us. An eyebrow raised at the way I was smiling and joking around with the girls. 

"Are you off?" Faye asks nodding towards Jackson's waiting presence.

"Um, maybe. I'll go talk to him."

The girls watch as I walk over to where he was standing.

"Hey." I smile, feeling awfully self-conscious in my cheer uniform. Luckily, Jess had changed the uniforms to long-sleeved so I didn't have to explain the burns or the dressings to anyone.

"You were great. Typical Ivy James fashion, dead right and centre." He says, his voice a little colder than what his words were saying.

"Thanks."

"Although, just because everyone else can't see through your fake smile, how bad is it? The pain."

I shrug at him, not wanting to seem weak. I know I am being way too stubborn for my own good.

"Are you staying for the whole game?" I ask him, feeling a little awkward to ask him to abandon his friends and come back to mine.

He cocks his head a little and a small smirk plays across his face. "Yeah, I mean unless you wanted me to do anything else."

He's trying to make me say it. To ask him to come home with me. "Jackson." I whine.

"Yeah?" He says innocently and I roll my eyes and walk towards the changing rooms. I can hear him chuckling behind me, following me.

As he jogs to catch up with me, he laughs at my unimpressed face.

"Do you want to leave?" I ask him, giving in to him wanting me to actually ask. "With me?"

"Yeah sure. Now answer my question."

"What was your question?" I ask him casually, grabbing his sweatshirt from my locker and throwing it over my cheer uniform. I carry on putting my stuff in my bag as he waits patiently by my side.

"Your pain?."

"Oh, yeah it's not great. Don't tell you mum I cheered." I widen my eyes at him in amusement but he seems totally unimpressed.

"Ivy, this isn't a joke. you're hurt."

"I know, but it's over now. Are you coming home with me?" I ask.

"Yeah, if I'm still welcome." He says.

"Yeah, will you drive me? I don't have my car."

He laughs "Of course, what would you have done if I didn't wanna leave with you?"

I smirk a little at him, "Found someone else?"

Jackson's grin fades and a slight pout sits on his lips and I laugh at his expression.

"I'm joking. Come on then, are we going or what?"

------------

When we reach my house, I am trying to keep myself from wincing in pain. The little blisters feel as if every single of them have popped. I knew I was going to have to change the bandages and apply more lotion but the thought of all that was exhausting.

"Are your parents in?" Jackson asks as we step through the front door. Mrs Granger agreed to not call and inform my parents of the burn situation as long as we agreed if this happens again I allow her to take the measures she sees fit.

I don't really understand what that means, and quite honestly it felt a little like signing a deal with the devil.

'Yeah, we are young man." My dad jokes from the living room and Jacksons laughs and greets them both. As do I. But I really need to go and take off this tight uniform.

I stand there numbly as they talk, watching as if I was the outsider. 

I just hurt today. 

I interrupt Jackson midsentence, his tone light and friendly and I honestly appreciate how much he likes and talks to my parents, I do. But I was exhausted and I was in pain and apparently that makes me rude. 

"Mum is it alright if we go upstairs?" I ask her, ignoring dads' disapproval.

"Of course, Hon. Jackson, are you staying for dinner? We have tonnes." My mum asks and he looks at me, letting me decide. I do not care, at all, whether he stays for dinner or not. So I nod because I think that is what I am supposed to be doing. My mum starts to tell Jackson what we are having, and then my parents start to argue about who is cooking and who is the best cook and I just admittedly turn around and leave them standing chatting in the front room.

 I slowly back away and walk up the stairs to my room. I need to take the uniform off, the stinging is becoming unbearable and I was losing patience. 

I didn't want to show Jackson that I could still be that person, that bitchy, irritable mess of a girl. I am sure he is fully aware of who I am, but when you want someone to see you positively it's hard to let them see all the fucking flaws. 

Locking myself in my bathroom, I peel the long-sleeved shirt away from my skin and feel as the bandages fall away with it. Damn. I grit my teeth as I keep removing the stuck bandages and when I hear my bedroom door open and Jackson call out my name, I squeeze my eyes shut to try and hold back my frustration from becoming audible.

"I'm just getting changed. One second." I finally reply. 

I pull a tank top over my body so I am no longer standing half-naked in the room ajar to Jackson. The thought of being so undressed in such close proximity to him was unnerving. I concentrate back on trying to take the rest of the bandages off, knowing I need to redress it with the spare ones Mrs Granger gave to me earlier. But it's a lot harder than it looked when the nurse was doing it.

"Ives, are you ok?" He says quietly, his voice soft but I can tell he is close to the door. 

I breathe out uncertain of what I am about to ask for him. 

It's too much. 

It makes me too vulnerable. 

But if I don't continue to look after the burns, his mother is going to tell mine. 

And I have already put them through so much. 

I pull a pair of shorts from my messy bathroom floor up over my legs and I make the decision to just open my bathroom door and ask for help. What else was I going to do?

"How easily grossed out are you?" I ask him, realising now he had gone and sat down on my bed as I didn't respond to him. 

"That's a scary question. But not at all. What do you need?" He asks pulling himself away from his comfy spot on my bed and walking towards me.

"Ok brace yourself, it's a little gross." I say as I turn around and pull my hair to my front. Showing him the way blisters were scattered across the top of my back and how some of them were looking pretty rough.

"Jesus Ivy, how on earth..?" He asks and takes a closer look, his feet carrying him to stand behind me and I try not to shudder uncomfortably in response to his proximity. It's Jackson. I stare at his face through the mirror. 

It's just Jackson. He's just looking at the burns. It's fine. 

"I-yeah. I know it's- " I start and then stop, unsure what to say. 

"It's not gross, but it does look painful. How did you cheer tonight?"

"Like you said, painfully." I throw him a smile and he shakes his head disapprovingly.

What I want to say is that no pain compares to the pain that I felt that night. And any pain that I am in control of now, seems so trivial that I hardly notice it. 

"Can you help me put these on?" I say handing him the dressings. "I was trying but it's hard on your own."

Jackson nods. "Yeah, I can try."

We stand in my small, messy bathroom. Again I was facing the mirror so I can see exactly what he's doing and why. Contol. I used to laugh at how much control I had. Over people. Over situations. Now I feel like the earth is caving in whenever I don't have it. Which, unfortunately, is more often than not at the moment. 

Jackson tentatively pulls the loose straps of my blacktop to the side and I try not to hold my breath at how close he is. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck and I want to take a step away. I hate it. 

I think I hate it. 

He's so fucking close.

"How did this happen?" Jackson's deep voice makes my skin stand to attention and  I pray to God he can't see my chills.

I hope he doesn't think I am scared of him. I am not. I don't think I am. It's almost as if I want to step back, to show him I am ok. To make him feel that. 

But am I ok?

"Ivy?" He whispers, gaining my attention back. "What happened?" He repeats. 

"The shower," I admit quietly.

"You got burns from the shower? How the fuck?" He whispers. His eyes then move away from me and towards my shower. The temperature gauge is still placed on the hottest temperature setting possible. I watch as his eyes don't really change from confusion or concern they just sit comfortably in the 'what the fuck' emotion.

This is why I can't tell Jackson the truth. He is freaked out by this, imagine how freaked out he would be about the whole thing. 

"I didn't mean to," I say in regard to his concern. 

He cares. 

He cares so much. 

Breathe Ivy. 

"What did you think would happen?" 

Jackson's hands haven't really touched me yet, but admittedly just the way they're hovering over my skin makes me feel weak. I can't tell if my weakness, my heartbeat, the hammering, is because I don't want him to touch me because it terrifies me or whether I'm terrified that I do want to feel his hands. I am curious as to what will happen. A morbid curiosity really, because I want to know if I will collapse, I want to know if he can touch me. 

I want to know if I would live through it. 

Sometimes when I think of being touched I feel like I might die. 

With Jackson, I wish I didn't feel like that. 

"I mean, I didn't know it would leave a mark," I whisper, my eyes looking down at my hands which are clinging onto my sink for support.

He places a hand firmly on the middle of my back and I hate to admit I gasped in surprise.

"I just wanted you to get used to my hand before I started putting the lotion on." He says in response to my shock. "And what were you trying to do then Ivy?"

"Jackson, I don't want to talk about this, I know I'm making you help me but please can we talk about something else?"

"I wasn't judging you." He promises. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself." 

Jackson gently pulls away the remainder of the old bandages and starts dabbing the area with an antiseptic wipe. The pain from the alcohol makes me grit my teeth and sway a little in response to the pain. I can feel this pain. A lot. I can also feel his hand as he places it on my waist to steady me and I hate that his touch leaves me feeling so conflicted.

I didn't collapse. 

But my knees do feel weak with his hand on my waist like this. 

'Is this ok?" He asks as I feel his fingers spread over my side and edge toward my hip bone. His open palm, holding me as his other hand continues to dab the wounds on my shoulders.

"Yeah." My confirmation comes out in a breath and Jackson immediately looks unsure, his eyes lifting to meet mine in the mirror.

"Are you sure?"

I nod in response and continue to focus on the pain rather than the way his hand on my waist made me feel.

He was gently stroking the area with his thumb and it made me want to sink into the slight physical comfort he was given me. 

He was touching me and I wasn't afraid. 

I didn't want to die. 

I stared at his face through the mirror and my head swirled because as much as I fucking hate physical touch, I think I also crave it. From him. I think it's only him I can handle touching me. 

What does that mean?

I was so convinced we were just friends, I was adamant that that is all I wanted from Jackson. Because what kind of freak is drawn to someone like this a month or so after she was attacked.

I honestly feel guilty, how weird is that? To feel guilt. I feel as if I am being reckless; that letting Jackson stand here touching me is the sort of action that got me into this mess in the first place.

Although I know it is so innocent, that he is just trying to reapply the burn treatment and redress the area for me, I can't help but shudder at the way an electric current seems to flow through us every time he moves his fingers on my waist or every time his fingertips brush slightly against my arms.

I shouldn't be feeling these things, surely?

"Are you ok?" he asks his voice a little thicker than before.

"Yeah, I'm just a little overwhelmed." I say, meeting his eyes through the mirror. His body is almost touching the back of mine. If I leant back slightly then we would be flush together.

Jackson presses down the last dressing in my shoulder and his hand trails lightly from the top of my shoulder to all the way down to my wrist. I watch as his eyes take in the way my arm hairs stand to attention in his wake.

"About what?" He whispers and nudges me to turn around and face him. So I turn and lean my back against the sink, looking up at Jackson's dark eyes.

"You." I say stupidly, my brain not telling me to shut up, it forgets to filter my thoughts due to our proximity.

Jackson steps slightly closer to me and leans down a little so our foreheads are centimetres apart.

"We are just friends Ivy, you said it yourself." He whispers and his breath fans my face, we are so close. His hands were still firmly planted on my waist. Jackson goes to take a step closer but I raise my hands and place them on his chest so to create a little room between us.

Breathe. 

Fuck Ivy, you were too obvious. It was too obvious the way you're feeling and now you've led him on. 

Because I cannot- I just can't. But the way he's looking down at me tells me everything, his eyes are attached to mine in a longing that scares me. 

But he leans down and presses his forehead gently against my own. One of his hands leaves my waist and he gently cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheek with a tenderness I have never fucking felt before. 

And I want it. 

I want to replace what I felt before. 

I want to feel this. 

"Ives." He whispers, our eyes connected. 

Mine afraid. 

His full of longing. 

Mine coloured similar, and as much as I think it's fucked, I know fear wasn't the only thing in the reflection of my eyes. 

"We are friends Jackson. You're one of my best friends." I breathe, slightly immersed into this spell he has created between us. 

"And as are you. I've never been this close with someone before" Jackson admits.

"I have so much going on Jackson I can't- we can't." I look away from him, breaking our intense eyes contact.

"I know. And you're Jayden's girl and I can't either." He agrees with me. He gently moves his hand from my cheek and trails it down to my chin, he uses it to turn my head so I meet his eyes again.

"Ivy, tell me I'm not insane. That this isn't a weird one-sided thing?"

"I don't know what you are on about" I whisper back.

"Yes, you do." He replies. His hand still holding my face.

"There's so much you don't understand," I say, his forehead is rested on mine again and I can't bring myself to break our connection. My eyes betray my resolve and flicker down towards his lips. I shouldn't even be thinking about it. But I am. 

Shit.

I just want to see if I can. 

Jackson doesn't reply but I watch as his eyes flicker over my face. I'm terrified when his eyes settle on my own lips and I need him to realise this is a bad idea. We can't do this.

I can not do this. 

But before he moves an inch, I hear my mum's voice call us down for dinner. Jackson jumps away from me in an almost comical sense and we stare at each other a little shocked.

"Coming." I call down to my mum and go to grab a jumper to put over me. My hands are shaking and I hate that he can get this reaction from me. 

He shouldn't be making me feel this way, not only am I his best friends ex-girlfriend, but I'm also the victim of another one of his so-called best friends. Can you get any more complicated than this? 

Jackson is silent as we walk down towards the kitchen table, deep in his thoughts. I know I need to tell him about everything, I need to give him the opportunity to get out before this does go somewhere he will regret. It's not fair on him.

We sit around the table, Jackson to my right. My mum and Dad are opposite us, not at all acknowledging the tension.

"How was school? Jackson, I guess you go to the same school as Ives." My dad asks and nods towards us.

"Yeah, it was good thanks..." Jackson and my Dad start talking about school and stuff like my dad's job and how he got into it. I doubt Jackson is really interested but he definitely has the knick of getting my dad to like him more.

"Ivy, how was school?" My mum asks me directly, letting the boys have their own conversation.

I shrug at her. "The usual".

"I told your dad you shouldn't have gone." She sighs to herself and I can feel Jackson's split attention.

I take a bite of my dad's chicken pasta and just smile at her. "It wasn't too bad."

It was bad. But sometimes it's not worth getting into it.

We talk about how I cheered today and I'm sure Jackson was confused why my parents said they were proud of me. Dinner was lovely and it felt so natural having Jackson with us. 

But on our way back upstairs I couldn't help but get increasingly nervous. Jackson opens the door to my room and takes a seat at my desk waiting for me to say something.

I guess this is it then.

"Jackson, I think we need to talk."