I take a breath, wishing that made this easier. “Thank you.”
“I could withdraw. From your class, I mean.”
“Absolutely not. It’s already halfway through the semester, and you’ve worked too hard.”
“But you just said—”
“I know what I said.”
“There are still two more months left, and I—” He cuts himself off and casts his eyes down, his shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath as he struggles with whatever thoughts are running through his mind. “It’s justoneclass. Idon’t need it to graduate. I can take a different one to fulfill my last English requirement next semester.”
“I said no, Jackson. You deserve the credit for this class, and I won’t let you throw away the work you’ve already put in.”
He peers back up at me, his jaw set. “So we just pretend it never happened?”
I wish I could lie and say yes, say that would be easy, that that’s what I want. That maybe that would even keep us both safe.
But I’ve already learned how fragile denial can be.
“No. We just can’t let it happen again.”
“And after the semester’s over?”
I want that so fucking badly.
I feel every last ounce of control I’ve been clinging to start to slip.
Even after the semester’s over, am I willing to risk everything again? As much as I want Jackson, would I just be tempting fate? Would history repeat itself? Would I be left more battered and bruised than I was last time?
Before I can respond, his eyes flash with something wounded and sharp, interpreting my hesitation for rejection. “Did it just mean nothing then?”
While I’ve felt shame for defying the university’s rules against having a relationship with a student—whether it was one time or not—thisis where the crux of my guilt stems from.
Ineverwanted to hurt Jackson.
Of course it meant something.
But I don’t fucking trust myself enough to say that.
“That’s not at all what any of this means.”
His jaw ticks as he clenches it tighter. His gaze turns even harder as the tense silence stretches on for several seconds, while I’m left wishing I could say something to make this better, easier.
“So isthiswhat you did to Dylan?”
All the air rushes out of my lungs as the question hits me like a physical blow. “What?”
“Fooled around with him. Made him think you wanted him, then came up with excuses not to be with him. Made it all feel cheap and worthless. Madehimfeel worthless.”
The way his voice trembles fucking guts me.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe not.” His voice is tight, trembling with hurt and anger all tangled together. “But I do know what it feels like to be made into a mistake.”
“Jackson—”
“No, it’s fine.” He stands, his chair scraping against the floor, and looks at me with eyes that are no longer sparkling. They’re just empty. Void. “It was just one time. It didn’t mean anything.”
