thirty-one

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The following day, Jack and I sit outside in my backyard as we study for an English test we both have tomorrow afternoon. It's a beautiful day: warm, sunny, and bright. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue, no cloud in sight. As the sun beams down on me and Jack, it fills the air with radiance and keeps the temperature up. As far as I'm concerned, it's a picture-perfect day.

And yet my mood couldn't be more opposite of the scenery. Despite the beautiful weather, my mood is all thunderstorms and lightning. I haven't been able to get Lacey's words out of my head since my run-in with her the previous night, and every time I think about her snooty tone and superior attitude, I swear my mood worsens.

When did my life become so filled with drama? When did I start to make friends and go out with boys and rival mean girls? My life has never been anything like it has lately, and I suddenly find the immense change too much to handle. I can't help thinking that things were so much easier before I moved to this town and got to know its people. Things were simpler before Dad and I left Texas, even if we were moving every other month. After all, it's hard for trouble to follow if you don't stop moving long enough to let it catch up to you.

But then I find myself thinking about Lana, and of the memories I share with my friend. Staying up until the early hours of the morning, laughing and goofing off when we should be sleeping. I remember how nice Lana had been to me when I was still new to this town, how she'd taken me under her wing and stayed by my side ever since. I think of sharing outfits and trading secrets; how Lana has become my very own sister.

And then my mind wanders to Jack. I think of how it makes me feel whenever I look up and find him smiling at me, light green eyes on mine, dimples on display all for me. Or how it feels to have his hand in mine as we walk down the hallways at school, or the sidewalks around town. And the way he always watches me intently as I speak, as if ever word I say in his presence is important to him. Of course, I can't forget everything Jack has done for me since I moved to town, either. I'll never forget how he took me in when I had no place else to go the night I got wasted at a party, or how he had done nothing more than listen when I spilled the story about my mother and my past to him. No matter how many times or how hard I tried to push Jack away, he always bounced right back. I never thought I'd say that I'm grateful for that.

Even my relationship with my dad has improved since we moved (and I should add stayed) to Aster Pines. I can go to him with anything, and the bond we've always had has been able to thrive and grow stronger. Lucas doesn't escape my thoughts, either, and I find myself grateful for the role he's played in my life as well. So is it really fair of me to wish things were back to the way they were before, when Dad and I were moving every few months? Just because it was simpler not to settle down doesn't exactly make it better. Every tree needs to be planted, needs the space to spread and grow its roots. And as hard as it's been for me to get used to the change, I can't say that I regret it. My life had been different before moving to this town and getting to know its people, yes, but I wouldn't say that it was better.

However, I can still hear Lacey's words from the party last night looping through my mind, begging to be heard and dissected. And as I start to think about what she said—specifically the part about a girl like herself being better suited for someone like Jack Crawford than a girl like me—I begin to wonder if maybe Lacey had a point. I mean, it does seem a little sketchy if I really think about it. Lacey had everything a guy could want in a girl—minus the personality. She's perfect, especially for someone as influential and wealthy as Jack Crawford. How do I compare to a girl like that? What do I have to offer that she doesn't?

No matter how stupid I find my thoughts, I can't seem to stop comparing myself to Lacey in any way that I can. She's a cheerleader, and I prefer to sit on the sidelines. She's popular, and I'm at best well-known (only because it's a small town). Lacey is beautiful in an all-American-girl type of way, with her long honey blond hair, wide blue eyes, and flawless tanned skin. I'm more than plain compared to her, with my dirty blond hair and hazel eyes, as far from flawless as one can get. The more I continue to pit myself against Lacey, the more it begins to take a toll on me. It's no wonder I'm feeling so pathetic.

Before I can think better of the words, I suddenly hear myself blurt, "Were you in love with Lacey?"

By the abruptness of my question breaking through the former silence, Jack appears a bit startled. His eyebrows rise as he turns to face me, a conflicted gleam shining in his light green irises. I'm not sure why I even asked him such a question, as I'd been more preoccupied comparing myself to Lacey than wondering if Jack loved her. Still, I'd be lying if I said Jack's answer isn't important to me. Jack and Lacey have been on and off again since the ninth grade, after all (according to Lana). You don't spend almost four entire years with someone that you don't genuinely like.

Right?

"Uh . . ." Jack trails off as a thoughtful expression takes over his features. By how long he's taking to answer, I can tell that Jack is choosing his words very carefully. This worries me, because I'm afraid he will end up saying something I don't want to hear. "I wouldn't say I was in love with her," Jack admits finally, relief flowing through my veins at his words. Before I'm able to fully comprehend his words, he's speaking again. "If I'm being totally honest, Scott, there were points where I didn't think I even liked her."

I furrow my eyebrows at Jack's response, genuinely curious as to what he means. I suppose I can relate on some level, as I dated a boy I didn't like in a romantic kind of way for quite a while (cough, Lucas, cough). At the same time, however, I did like Lucas, though in more of a friendship type of way.

Trying not to sound too interested, I ask, "What do you mean?"

"When I first met Lacey, she was just so much more . . . different than she is now, I guess. She's a really smart girl, and she used to be just as fun as she is intelligent. We would have the best time together, no matter what we were doing. She was my best friend." Jack hesitates a moment, and I notice the frown tugging at the corners of his lips. His normally bright green eyes have dulled a shade, and I can tell he's mildly upset.

"Then I don't know what happened," Jack continues with a sigh, leaning back on the picnic blanket the two of us laid out in my yard earlier in the afternoon. "She suddenly became so absorbed in what other people thought of her. Appearance, social status, friends . . . the kinds of things that shouldn't really matter became everything to her. I guess you could say she became really transparent. There were times I just couldn't stand it. We'd fight like hell, and I'd end up saying I needed some time apart from her, yet she somehow always managed to convince me to try again. Our parents are close friends, and both of our families are relatively influential, so even my parents would push me to stay with her. It was a game to them, really. Lacey and I were the pieces, and our parents were the game makers. Lacey and I together was sort of a power play."

By now, Jack's features have pinched tightly the way they do when he's conflicted. His frown has deepened, and I hate myself for bringing up this subject at all. I don't like being the reason he's upset.

Lifting his gaze to mine, Jack suddenly questions, "Do you remember the beginning of the season, the game I'd broken up with Lacey and came to you about? I think that was when I realized that I was wasting so much of my time and effort on a relationship I didn't really want to be in. Lacey and I want different things, and I know people change, but we'd just changed too much from who we'd been when we first started going out. I'm always going to care about Lacey, but I don't think I'd say I was ever in love with her."

"So . . . what is it about me, then?" I ask in a small voice, averting my eyes from Jack's. "I mean, Lacey and I couldn't be more different if we tried. So what made you want to go from her to me?"

"What do you mean?" Jack sounds just as confused as he looks, if not more. With a slight chuckle, he adds, "Lucas and I are pretty different. Why did you trade him for me?"

"That's not what I mean." I'm suddenly flustered, struggling to put my feelings into words. "It's just . . . Lacey is pretty and popular and basically everything I'm not. It's kind of like you downgraded."

"What?" Jack snaps, sitting up straight as he flashes me a perplexed and slightly frustrated expression. "Morgan . . . what? Why would you even say something like that? Is that what you really think?"

"Well . . ." I trail off as I pick at a longer piece of grass by the edge of the blanket, shrugging. "I don't know."

"Morgan, I didn't downgrade. If anything, I upgraded. You're as beautiful as you are smart and funny. You drive a sick car. You genuinely like football, which is a major part of my life. Your dad is my coach, so I get to see you all the time, which couldn't be more perfect. We share interests and sense of humor, and it's easy for me to just be myself around you, Scott. I'm not Jack Crawford when I'm with you. I'm just . . . Jack. More than that, I've trusted you with some pretty dark shit. I wouldn't have told you about Haleigh if you weren't important to me. And you are. You . . . you mean a lot to me, Scott."

To hear those words come from Jack, it's almost impossible to explain how it makes me feel. It's as if all of the worries and self-doubt I had previously been experiencing only moments earlier fly out of the window, leaving me to wonder how I possibly believed them in the first place. I've never been the type of girl who listens when another tries to belittle her, nor have I ever been very impressionable. However, I'm starting to realize that what Lacey said to me at the party was merely the voicing of thoughts that had always been hiding in the back of my mind. She was preying on my fears and insecurities in a way that only a person who had formerly gone through a similar experience could.

"Why would you even ask me something like that?" Jack questions, sounding more confused now than he had before. "That's not like you, Scott. I never thought you felt that way."

"I don't know." I've never been a very good actress or liar, but now is the time for those two skills that I lack to pull through. I don't want to admit to Jack that Lacey was the one who put those thoughts in my head. (Well, the thoughts were already there. Lacey just confirmed them.) For starters, I don't want him to know about what Lacey said to me at the party at all. I'm not sure what he would do when it comes to the situation, though I get the feeling it wouldn't turn out well. Secondly, I don't want Jack to think I'm the kind of person who believes every word another says about them. Because I'm not that type.

At least, I don't think I am. 

"Did someone say something to you?" Jack asks, sounding like he believes he's on the verge of a discovery. I can hardly stand to look at him, afraid that he'll read the answer to his question in my eyes. "I just can't believe you would actually believe something like that, Morgan. If someone said something, you call tell me. In fact, I'd rather you did."

"Just drop it," I mumble, unintentionally saying the words harsher than I intended to. My gaze immediately lifts to Jack to see his reaction to the intensity of my tone. He looks a little tense, like he knows I'm lying to him but isn't sure how to prove it. "It's really not a big deal, Jack," I add for good measure, trying to defuse the flames I accidentally lit.

"It is to me," Jack retorts, eyes blazing as they meet mine. "You're seriously not going to tell me the truth?"

"It's really nothing," I assure him. I'm not looking for a fight with him, and I'm starting to think that's exactly where this conversation is going to lead if I don't end it now. "I swear."

"Whatever." I can tell by his tone that Jack's hurt, which makes me begin to feel worse than I already do. I hate knowing that I've upset him, and yet I don't want to admit what really brought this conversation along. I don't know why I feel the need to protect Lacey. I guess I just don't want Jack to think less of her, or to change his view on Lacey at all. When I kissed Jack the night of the homecoming dance I never thought about how badly it could hurt Lacey if she were to find out about it. Knowing that she has gotten wind of my kiss with Jack, I can't help feeling immensely guilty. Keeping what she said to me at the party last night from Jack may be the only way I can really make it up to Lacey.

"I guess I just thought you trusted me a little more," Jack mumbles under his breath. I notice for the first time that he's began to gather his things that are strewn across the blanket around us, stuffing them into his book-bag. His green-eyed gaze is clouded as it meets mine, as if he's trying hard to conceal his emotions from me.  "Guess I was wrong. The night you told me about your mom? Maybe that didn't mean you trusted me. I guess it really just meant you were drunk."

Jack's words sting, hurting me the way they're intended to. I know that I can either open my mouth and blurt the truth in order to make things right between us again, or I can keep my mouth shut and let him walk off angry. Neither option sounds good to me, and I really don't want to go through with either. Jack seems to make the decision for me, however. He's already on his feet, glowering down at me as if to say that this is my last chance to speak up. His expression is a mix of hurt and betrayal, with just a hint of frustration.

"Fine!" I snap, scrambling to my feet, worried that Jack will walk off before he can hear me out. He's much taller than me even when I'm at my full height, though I feel more like an infant when he's towering over me while I sit on the grass, especially when he's confronting me. At least now that I'm standing I can glare at him and not have to tilt my head all the way back just to do so. "Someone might have said something to me last night at the party. But does it really matter?"

"Yes, Morgan!" Jack cries, much louder than needed. I don't think he's really angry with me, just angry on my behalf and misdirecting the emotion. Still, I don't like the way it makes me feel to know that's how Jack is taking this. "It does matter! I don't want people walking around making you feel less deserving than you really are! You're my girlfriend, Morgan. I have a right to know what people are saying about the two of us that would make you doubt yourself like that."

"It was Lacey!" I don't mean to say the words, yet I do. As soon as Lacey's name leaves my lips, my hands rush to cup my mouth, my eyes widening in horror. I just ratted her out, which was exactly what I was trying not to do. That's two times now that I've wronged her. The rules say three strikes and you're out, and I'm now down to one.

"It's really not a big deal," I blurt, trying to backtrack. "She just mentioned something in passing that kind of stuck in my mind. It wasn't anything like what I asked you, but just similar, I guess. It was mostly all in my head, though. Please don't say anything to her!"

if anything, my revelation has only added to Jack's anger. His green eyes shift from cloudy to stormy, his facial features pinching tightly. "Lacey said something to you?" Jack questions, voice barely above a whisper. His silence may be the scariest reaction of them all, because that's how I know he's crossed the point of spontaneous anger and drifted into a state of calculated coldness. "I can't believe her!" he booms, shaking his head in frustration. Jack proceeds to release a bitter laugh, even though nothing is funny. "Of course she would do something like that. Why am I surprised?"

"She knows that we kissed at homecoming," I mumble, staring down at my feet as I speak. "I kept trying to say that I never cheated on Lucas, but I did with that kiss. I feel so guilty about it . . .  that's why I didn't want to tell you the truth. About Lacey, I mean. I guess I wanted to protect her. To make the two of us even, or whatever." It doesn't seem to matter how stupid my thought process is, I continue to ramble on about it. I can feel my cheeks flushing red with embarrassment, unable to look Jack in the eye.

"You have nothing to feel guilty about, Morgan," Jack murmurs a little roughly, still running off of anger. "We kissed. For, like, a millisecond. It wasn't that big of a deal. People make mistakes. I don't want you to think that you owe Lacey because of our kiss, or that you need to protect her. She can be a mean girl, Morgan. If she messes with you, you shouldn't feel like you can't tell me. I thought we trusted each other more than that. Besides, I can get her to lay off."

"I don't want you to!" I exclaim, shaking my head in frustration. I don't know how I'm supposed to make Jack understand. I guess boys will never quite understand how girls work. Jack can assume that if he has a talk with Lacey about what she said to me at the party he'd be putting a stop to her acting out in the future, but he'd really just confirm the opposite. Lacey would know for certain that she's been getting to me, and then the torture would persist.

"I don't want you to talk to her, Jack," I repeat in a calmer tone, exhaling sharply as I cross my arms over my chest. I can handle Lacey. You know that. She doesn't need to know that she got to me. I don't want her to have that satisfaction."

Jack studies me in silence for a drawn-out moment. His jaw is tight and his eyes are still pretty cloudy, but all of the tension in his expression disappears as he exhales slowly. With a sigh, Jack mutters, "If you don't want me to talk to her, I won't. But I don't want you to lie to me, either. If Lacey tries to cause anymore trouble, just tell me. Okay? There's nothing you can say or do that's going to scare me off, Morgan. I'm here for the long run. I hope you know that."

"I do," I admit softly, tilting my face up to Jack's. I know that my expression is apologetic, because Jack's mirrors the same look. We're two people with maybe some of the heaviest emotional baggage possible weighing down on our shoulders. We've both lost someone we loved in such short lives, and that has led us to have a lot of trust issues. I know that it's hard for me to know when people really care about me, and it's even harder to let people in. I'm still struggling to get over my fear that every person who enters my life is only designed to walk right back out. I know better than anyone that Jack is feeling relatively the same way, and this is how the two of us feel

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