Elliot swallowed and shook his head, droplets flying from his hair and landing in the small puddles that had formed in the uneven divots of the metal stands. “I’m sorry,” he said. “All I seem to be able to do is hurt you. I do that a lot—push people away when things get real. It’s because I’ve carried a lot of the weight from my father’s career and…” Fuck he was rambling. “My therapist says I need to learn how to accept good things in my life.”
“Sounds like a good therapist,” Jackson replied.
Elliot snorted out a laugh. “Sometimes. But I’m serious, Jackson. I know I haven’t been fair to you.”
Jackson looked at him quizzically. “So, am I a good thing, then?”
“You were the best thing, Jennings,” Elliot replied, looking straight into his eyes. “And I know I fucked up. I got scared. I don’t do this, I don’t do emotions and mess, and I don’t sit in the rain confessing my feelings, hoping someone likes me back, but here we bloody well are.”
“You like me?” Jackson asked.
“I more than like you, and I think you fucking know that.”
“But, casual? You said—”
Elliot grimaced. “I know what I said. I don’t know if I can give you what you want, Jackson. But…maybe we could try?”
The tension pulled tight between them. Elliot felt as though he could feel every molecule of air prickling against his skin. His whole body was tuned to Jackson, waiting on a signal to come through.
“Fuck it,” Jackson said, seemingly more to himself than Elliot, and pulled him into a kiss. “I’m still angry with you,” he breathed against Elliot’s ear as he trailed kisses over his jaw.
“Yeah,” Elliot sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“And I still think something's off with Chris.”
“But you’ll leave it?” Elliot asked. “Please.”
“Yeah, if that’s what you want.” Jackson stilled. “If we’re doing this, then I don’t want you seeing anyone else. Seeing you with that creep at the club…I hated it.”
“I don’t want anyone else.”
“Good,” Jackson grunted.
"You either? I mean…can we be exclusive?"
"Of course, Princess."
“Really?” Elliot’s eyes lit up. “Not even…Stefan?”
“Stefan?” Jackson asked. He looked puzzled. “Austrian triathlete? So innocent it hurts? That Stefan?”
Elliot nodded, a grimace on his face.
“What does he have to do with anything?”
Swallowing, Elliot replied, “You were together for a bit, right? At camp. Like…like we were?” Remembering that stupid photo brought him tumbling back to earth. The rain was running cold down his back now.
“All I did at camp was train and sit around wallowing about you not being there,” Jackson replied, eyes narrowed.
“It’s fine, Jackson. I’m not angry. It just hurt.”
“There’s nothing to be fine or angry about. I don’t know why you think I’d go for someone like him.”
The sincerity in Jackson’s tone and the anger sparking in his eyes gave Elliot pause. He pulled out his phone and navigated to Stefan’s profile. Thrusting the evidence in Jackson’s face, he waited. Rain gathered on the screen as Jackson stared at it.
“That little shit. Not so innocent after all, it seems.” Jackson wiped the screen with his wet singlet then tossed Elliot’s phoneback to him. “Nothing happened with Stefan. He tried it on a couple of times, but I shot him down.”
“Really?” Elliot asked. He told himself it didn’t matter, but hope bloomed in his chest regardless.
