Jackson’s mouth twitches. “You’re plotting something.”
If only he knew.
“Come on." I reach for his hand. “Walk with me.”
He lets me pull him down the beach, and we walk in comfortable silence for a while. There’s no tension, no hiding what we are to each other. People around us don’t care one bit.
It’s just us and the ocean and the gulls being rude in the distance.
Jackson bumps his shoulder into mine. “So what’s this? Because you don’t randomly take me to Santa Cruz without a reason.”
“I can’t take my boyfriend on a date?”
Jackson scoffs. “You can. But you’re doing that calm voice you do when you’re about to drop a bomb.”
He knows me too well.
We pass a cluster of people taking photos by the waterline. A couple of kids chase each other with plastic shovels. A dog sprints through the surf like it’s winning a championship. My chest tightens, not with nerves exactly, but with that deep, clean certainty.
This is it.
This is my life.
He is my person.
Jackson looks over at me, brows drawing together. “Dre, are you okay?”
I stop walking and Jackson stops with me, turning to face me. The wind pushes his hair forward. The sun catches the frecklesacross his nose. His eyes are warm and wary and open, and I take both of his hands in mine.
“I’m more than okay,” I say quietly.
Jackson’s throat bobs. “Then why do you look like you’re about to fight the ocean?”
“Because I’m about to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” I huff a soft laugh.
His eyes widen just a fraction and the world keeps moving around us, people laughing in the distance and waves crashing, but in my head it goes silent because he is all I see, hear, and feel. I pull him a few steps farther down the beach, to a stretch of sand that’s emptier, where the sound of the ocean feels like it’s meant for us.
Jackson’s pulse is visible in his throat.
“Dre…”
I let go of one of his hands and reach into my hoodie pocket. The ring box is small, but it weighs like a promise.
Jackson sees it and freezes. His breath catches so hard it’s audible.
“Oh, fuck—” he says, his voice barely there.
I drop to one knee.
The sand is cool against my skin, the wind is loud, and my heart is steady anyway, because this isn’t a question I’m uncertain about.
This is the only yes I’ve ever been sure of.
Jackson’s hands fly to his mouth, and his eyes go glassy immediately.
“Oh my God,” he whispers.
I open the box, and the ring catches the last of the sun and throws it back like a dare.Silver and perfect, simple enough for him to wear every day.Jackson makes a shaky sound that could be a laugh or a sob. My eyes lock on his.
