I gave him a half-smile. “Obviously. We’re friends.”
“Right, but do youlikehim? I mean, do youwantto be with him? Are you glad you did it? Do youwantto do it again?”
I thought for a moment as Jackson stepped aside and we started walking again. Did I want to do it again? I remembered the way he sounded as he came and the slick, hot stroking of his fist on my cock as his own orgasm rocked his body. My mouth watered at the thought of tasting him, and when I imagined falling into bed with him, my cock ached in my jeans.
“Yeah. I do.”
He nodded once, firmly, as if that was that. “Good. Then that’s all you need to know.”
I looked at Jackson, eyebrows raised. “But—”
“But nothing. Follow your heart. Or, in this case, your dick.”
I laughed weakly and shook my head a little. “Can we talk about something else? I have a lot to process and I’m not sure I’m ready for the whole town to hear about my new… experiences. What about you? Have you been on any good dates lately?”
“Good dates, or dates that make good stories? Because no to the first and yes to the second.”
“You really do have the worst luck. What happened this time?”
“Look, I like kids. Give me a single dad any day. Dad bods? Yes please. But hebroughthis kid on our date. Didn’t tell me he even had one, just brought him along as a surprise. Said he didn’t have a babysitter last minute, which, fine, we can reschedule or something, right? Or hell, we could have a good time all three of us. But no. He spent the rest of the date distracted on his phone while I entertained his kid.”
“Wow. Did you have a good time at least?”
Jackson shrugged. “Sure. Like I said, I like kids. The kid—his name was Davey, by the way—was about ten and we had a good time talking about video games and drawing pictures together.”
“What a disaster.”
He shrugged again. “Whatever. Onward and upward.”
“That’s the spirit.” We stopped then at the ice cream shop, stepping inside, the cool air inside a reprieve from the Virginia humidity. “Can I tell you something?”
Jackson grinned. “Hello. Of course you can.”
“When I was in fifth grade, Micah made me a birdhouse.”
“That one you keep on the back porch?”
“That’s the one. Anyway, I made him a picture frame, and I stuck a picture in it of us at the pool. He kept it. It’s on his dresser.”
“That’s… really cute.”
“Is it weird?”
“Weird? Why would it be?”
I shrugged, my brain feeling like it was working overtime. “I don’t know. They’re maybe twenty-five years old, the picture frame and the birdhouse. Is it weird that we both kept them?”
“Hold that thought.” Jackson ordered a scoop of vanilla ice cream, while I ordered rocky road, and when we left the shop, he turned to me. “It’s not weird. It’s sweet. You both meant a lot to each other back then. I don’t think it’s weird at all. You’re overthinking this. Relax. Just let things happen.”
I nodded slowly. “You’re probably right.” A few moments passed before I spoke again. “But…”
Jackson raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Well… he’s leaving soon, right? When the show’s over. Should I really just ‘let things happen’ knowing he’s got one foot out the door?”
“What do you mean?”
I took a slow breath and tried to explain. “Micah is leaving when the show’s over. My home is here. What happens next?”
