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Jackson must've been more exhausted than I thought.

He didn't even react when my stomach sang the horrendous song of its people. I knew he had to have heard it — it was loud enough to wake my grandpa in his grave.

He showed no signs of acknowledgment though, and neither of us moved a muscle for the rest of the episode we were watching — well, he was watching.

My eyes were on the tv, but I wasn't absorbing a single thing. Because after I got over the mind numbing embarrassment, the reality of the situation really started to sink in.

Jackson kissed me.

It was just a small peck on my forehead, but still.

He kissed me. Sober. Sleep deprived maybe, but sober.

At least, I think he was sober. There was no way for me to tell, really.

He wasn't slurring like he'd been drinking. He wasn't slowly enunciating each word, which I'd come to realize he did whenever he was high.

His eyes were red, but that could've just been from lack of sleep.

The fact that he'd showered and brushed his teeth before he woke me up wasn't helping me figure anything out, either.

So I was stuck wondering if this was just another moment he'd regret — or forget.

But when the episode was over, and Jackson turned on his side with his eyes closed, blindly reaching for my hand and pulling it to his chest...I didn't care if the moment was fleeting.

My heart was in Jackson's hands — despite his reputation of dropping it. If he dropped it after this, I wasn't sure I'd be able to put the pieces back together again.

For now though, all I could do was relish this moment.

The feeling of his lips on my head.
The warmth that spread across my face like a fever afterwards.
The tingling sensation in the hand he held in both of his against his chest, like he was afraid it would disappear.
The content sigh that escaped his lips as he buried half of his face in my pillow.
The way he squeezed my hand every time he mumbled in his sleep.

I wished there was a way to tattoo all of it to my brain, so this feeling would never fade. It felt like I might've actually helped him temporarily forget his pain.

I really hoped so, at least. I wanted to mean enough to him, for him to get some kind of relief from me.

Because he was my relief.

Whenever he was around, my insecurities were like a fish tank in a loud room. Still in the background, but easy to ignore. Seen, but not heard.

When I was alone, it wasn't just a fish tank in a room — my head was the tank. Filled with insecurity, anxiety, fear, disappointment — all rapidly swimming around, consuming me.

I was getting used to the feeling of normalcy Jackson gave me, and it scared me.

It was hurting more and more every time one of us pushed the other away. And it wasn't just because of my feelings for him, but because I was on the verge of falling in love with feeling normal.

I think that's what scared me the most. Because as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn't rely on him for that feeling — or anyone else, for that matter.

At the end of the day, I would still be drowning in my thoughts when I was alone, and I didn't know how to stop them myself.

I wasn't even sure if I wanted them to stop fully. My negative thoughts and false promises to myself were what kept me in line.

I was like a train latched onto an old railroad. It was rusty, and possibly missing a few screws, but it was the only way I knew.

I'd been on it for so long, it was easy to ignore all the signs that were telling me it was unreliable. I was so used to all the bumps and turns, I hardly even noticed them anymore.

It was my home — where I was comfortable.

But now there was a shiny new track parallel to my own, built by Jackson, Kallie, and my new friends. And they were urging me to try it out.

My brittle track was using all the strength it had left to hold onto me, telling me that new track was the unreliable one, because it was new and untested.

That uncharted territory was so tempting though, because if I didn't make the move, eventually I was going to be left behind — abandoned along with the broken railroad I'm on.

To make that move though, I would have to derail completely, just to try a track I wasn't even sure I'd be able to stay on. I would have to take apart every piece of me, just to learn how to put myself back together again.

The thought of taking apart everything that I knew about myself was too intimidating to face.

What if I dissembled myself to change tracks, and couldn't figure out how to put the pieces back together?

Or what if I did figure it out, and I didn't recognize myself anymore?

I didn't know how to trust something different — to enjoy something different — even though I saw how easy it was for everyone else.

As my mind raced a hundred miles an hour, I lost count of how many episodes of Friends had played.

I should've left Jackson's room when I knew he was asleep, but I wasn't sure how things would be when he woke up, so I stayed to cherish the moment a little longer.

But all thoughts of getting up were ceased a few episodes ago, when he moved closer and threw his leg over both of mine. He still had my hand gripped tightly in one of his, resting it on my stomach.

With his head on my shoulder, I was pretty sure my body was permanently covered in goosebumps — my neck was consistently going from hot to cold, in sync with his steady breathing.

"Brylee?" Kallie's muffled voice made me jump, and the most adorable whine I'd ever heard came from the back of Jackson's throat.

Crap.

"She's probably downstairs," Elliott's voice came from the other side of the wall.

You really can hear through these walls perfectly.

Jackson must really be a ninja because I hardly ever hear him.

Oh my God. How much has he actually heard?

"Yeah, I'm sure," I could hear the amused disbelief in Kallie's voice.

I mean, it's still pretty muffled. I can only hear clearly because it's quiet. My music stopped playing a while ago, and the volume on Jackson's tv is pretty low.

A girl can only hope.

I tried to sit up, but that only resulted in Jackson groaning as he let go of my hand, so he could wrap his arm around me, tucking it under my back.

My breath caught in my throat while a low hum came from the back his, as he nuzzled his face into the side of my neck.

He was practically on top of me. And I couldn't even let myself enjoy it, because my best friend and brother were looking for me.

Even though he'd offhandedly given me his blessing, the thought of Elliott seeing his best friend on top of me was mortifying — even if it was actually harmless.

I was almost positive Jackson was still dead asleep, so he probably didn't even know what he was doing.

"Jackson," I whisper yelled, shoving his shoulder with my free hand, trying to wiggle out from underneath him. It was like trying to get out from under a freaking dead body. "I need to get up — move!"

"No vayas," he mumbled, tightening his arm around me as his lips brushed where my neck and shoulder meet, igniting the flame in my gut.

Okay, I've heard him mumble in his sleep, but never actual words. So maybe not dead asleep.

Does that mean he's doing this on purpose?

Suddenly, it felt like my heart was beating ten times faster.

"Uh," I whipped my head to the side to see Kallie standing in the doorway, face filled with a mix of shock and amusement. "Never mind, I guess she did go downstairs."

Jackson mumbled incoherently into my neck at my sudden movement, making my eyes widen as I tried to wiggle away from him again.

Surely he wouldn't keep this up with Kallie right there, so maybe he actually is asleep.

Seeing Kallie holding back laughter, I knew I was going to get endless amounts of teasing after this, but that wasn't what I was worried about.

Despite Kallie's words, since she was still standing in the freaking doorway, Elliott was bound to come look too.

And what do ya know? Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

"What are you..." Elliott trailed off when he came up behind her, eyes widening as they landed on me, before he scrunched his face up in disgust.

End me now. Please.

"Jackson, get off," I spoke more forcefully this time, smacking the side of his head. His body tensed as his breath hitched, meaning he was actually coming to this time.

Maybe I should've done that sooner.

"Seriously dude," Elliott snapped, making me look at him again. The face he was making now kinda made him look constipated. "Get off my sister!"

I think I've been watching too much Friends, because he's giving me serious Ross vibes right now.

Jackson slowly lifted his head, blinking down at me with a small, tired frown.

He still had his arm around me as he cocked his head to the side to look toward the door, squinting his eyes as his frown hardened into a scowl.

I don't think I could move even if I tried. I was actually paralyzed in shock and embarrassment.

"Why don't you get out of my fuckin' room?" Jackson snapped in a raspy, agitated tone.

My eyes about popped out of my head, and I quickly looked over to the door.

Okay, I can move my head, so I guess I'm a quadriplegic.

Kallie's lips were pressed into a tight line in a desperate attempt to hold back laughter, frantically looking between us and Elliott — who looked like he would have steam coming out of his ears, if it were possible.

"There better be pants on under those covers, or I swear to God," Elliott trailed off again, and I wasn't sure if the gag that came after was real or fake.

My mouth popped open to explain it wasn't what it looked like, but unfortunately, Jackson beat me to it.

"You gonna stay to find out?"

Oh. My. God.

Kallie let out a high pitched squeak before her laughter finally broke free, and I turned to Jackson with my jaw dropped — finally gaining enough strength to slap his arm.

"What the hell!" I snapped, slapping his arm with each word. "Get off!"

I guess 'it's not what it looks like' wouldn't have been any better, though.

Everyone knows when someone says that, it's almost always exactly what it looks like.

Jackson didn't even acknowledge me as he and Elliott continued to glare at each other.

He still seemed to be in the process of waking up though, so his was far less intimidating than normal. It was pretty cute, actually.

What is wrong with me? He's practically holding me hostage. I shouldn't be thinking about how cute he looks right now.

"C'mon babe," Kallie spoke between fits of laughter, making me lift my eyebrows in surprise as I looked at her, rubbing Elliott's shoulder. "Leave the lovebirds alone. I'm hungry — let's go."

"Babe?" I echoed quietly, almost forgetting the situation I currently was in.

I assumed they made up, since they were looking for me together — but babe? Does that mean they're together together now?

"Yeah babe," Jackson teased in an overly sweet voice, snapping me back to reality. "Go get the witch some food before she curses us all — don't worry, we'll keep it PG-13 in here."

Is he trying to get killed?

Well, I guess the better question would be, is he trying to get me killed?

I'd never seen him fight, but I knew he had to have more experience — or at the least, more exposure — in that department than my brother did.

I'm sure Elliott knew that too, so there was a possibility I might get killed because of Jackson's loud mouth.

"Oh my God," I squeaked, slapping his arm so hard, my hand was starting to sting. "Get the fuck off of me!"

"Ouch," he pouted as he looked down at me, still not letting up on his grip, then looked back at my fuming brother with a cocky smile. "Fine — PG."

Maybe if I act like I'm giving up, I can use the element of surprise and kill him for Elliott.

I let out a loud groan in frustration, dropping my head on the pillow.

Gangbanger strangled to death by girl with the strength of a wet napkin — now that would be a headline for the local news.

"Seriously El, I'm getting hangry. Let's go," Kallie dragged out, tugging on Elliott's arm, but he stayed in place — still glaring at us.

"Fine," Elliott finally caved before pointing at Jackson. "Just wait until we're alone, asshole."

"I'm so scared," Jackson chuckled, dropping his head back on my shoulder as Elliott stomped out.

I just squeezed my eyes shut, silently praying for lightning to strike and put me out of my misery.

"You guys want anything?" I heard Kallie pipe up gleefully, but I kept my eyes closed, mumbling a short 'no' that she probably couldn't even hear.

"Ooh," I felt Jackson lift his head again. "Whatcha gettin'?"

That's right, have your fun while you can. Because you're dead.

"Mexican."

Give me a knife and cutting board right now. I could save you the trip.

"Hmm, I could go for some enchiladas. Chicken, though — pretty sure those restaurants serve dog food instead of beef. Want anything, Lee?" I felt him squeeze my midsection briefly.

"For you to get the hell off of me," I snapped, opening my eyes to scowl at him.

Completely unfazed, he looked up to grin at Kallie. "She'll have the same."

"Got it," Kallie chirped, making me aim my scowl in her direction, but she just continued smiling innocently.

Until she gave me her we'll talk later face before walking out, shutting the door behind her.

"What the fuck, Jackson?" I hissed, smacking his arm with my already stinging hand. "Would you get off of me already?"

"What?" He asked innocently, rolling onto his back and turning his head to face my glare. "Do you not like enchiladas? They're not my favorite, but none of these fake ass restaurants around here have tacos de lengua."

I didn't say anything as I sat up, throwing the covers off of me as I scooted to the edge of the bed to stand.

"Wait," he grabbed the back of his hoodie to stop me before I got up. "Are you actually mad?"

"Is that even a question? Yes, I'm fucking mad! I mean, seriously Jackson, what the hell was that?" I exasperated, throwing my arm out to gesture at the door I refused to take my eyes off of.

"He knows I was just fuckin' with him," he said simply, still holding onto his hoodie like I was an untrained dog on a leash.

"I don't care if you were just fuckin' with him," I snapped, crossing my arms across my chest. "Leave me out of it."

"Okay, I might've taken it too far. I'm sorry," he gave his hoodie two light tugs, silently asking me to come back. I didn't budge.

"You're damn right you did," I tried to keep the same angry tone as before, but the fact that he was actually awake now and still wanted me here, was making it difficult.

"I was just trying to..." I trailed off.

Help? Comfort you?

I didn't want to say either of those, worried it would make him put his wall back up.

"Trying to...what?" Jackson asked in a teasing tone, and I froze when I felt the bed dip behind me as he moved closer. "Watch me sleep?"

Is it possible to actually die of embarrassment?

I wasn't watching him sleep, my eyes were on the tv the whole time.

Most of the time.

But what was my excuse for staying? I could've pulled my hand away when he first fell asleep, but I didn't.

I'm such a creep.

I twisted slightly to scowl at him. "I was trying to breathe, actually. I thought we were watching Friends, until you trapped me in your death grip."

And a liar.

He shrugged one of his shoulders before leaning back on his elbows, the same cocky smile as before plastered on his face. "Was just tryin' to get comfortable — I was very comfortable."

I turned back around when I felt my face warming up, pulling the side of my lip between my teeth.

So much for staying angry.

"I'm still tired," he mumbled, and my eyes widened when his arm wrapped around my waist.

"You should sleep some more," I cleared my throat. "I should go, um, finish my homework."

Good one. I'm gonna be a great lawyer.

He let out one of his almost laughs, pulling his arm away. "You didn't go to school."

"Friday's homework," I added with a grimace, glad he couldn't see my face.

I actually did need to do Friday's homework. With everything that happened this weekend, I completely forgot about it.

Who knew skipping school could get me in trouble and out of trouble at the same time?

"Alright then," Jackson said in a disbelieving tone, and I felt the bed shift again before his hand wrapped around my arm, right above my elbow. "I wanna tell you somethin' first, though."

My heart dropped to my stomach as he tugged on my arm. Against my better judgment, I turned halfway to face him, bending my knee to rest my leg on the mattress.

He was sitting up again, leaned back on one palm with his upper half turned toward me, while his legs were still stretched out under the covers in front of him.

His tongue rolled across his teeth behind tightly closed lips, like he was contemplating if he should actually continue or not.

"I didn't mean it when I took the promise back," he said lowly after a moment, eyes flicking between my own before looking down at the crumpled up comforter between us.

I've wanted him to open up to me for months, but now that he was actually willing, I was nervous to hear what he had to say.

Honestly though, at this point he could tell me he stabbed someone, and I'd probably just say okay.

"If you feel like you have to because I —"

"No," he cut me off, still looking down as he furrowed his brow. "I want to."

"You did kinda push me," he continued matter of factly as he looked up, his slightly hardened expression smoothing when his eyes met mine.

"It pissed me off — at first," he emphasized, giving me a pointed look when I opened my mouth to cut him off, so I snapped it shut.

"Then I realized I can't really be pissed when technically, I pushed you first," he pressed his lips together as his eyes left mine to roam my face,

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