Page 56 of What If It Was Us
My mind was still a mess, and for some reason, I blurted out, “I need to go wash my hands.” I held out the hand that had been touching Scott.
Jackson looked down, eyes widening when he saw the semen. He took a step back like I had slapped him, bumping into the wall behind him. He didn’t look mad anymore—he looked absolutely destroyed.
I turned for the bathroom, acting unaffected by our interaction.
As soon as I closed the bathroom door, I dropped to my knees and couldn’t hold back from puking everywhere.
***
I woke up to something cold under my cheek, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself on the floor of a bathroom. Jackson was sitting on the toilet, his dress shirt fully unbuttoned. I could see a sliver of the planes of his chest, and he was watching me with sad eyes. I groaned, closing my eyes to hide from the light . . . and the way he was looking at me.
“Where am I?” I asked as I put a hand to my head. It felt like someone was drilling into the side of my skull. My mouth was dry, and I could taste the remnants of the blunt I smoked earlier.
“You’re fucked up, Addison,” Jackson said with malice.
I covered my face. “Don’t use my full name right now. Seriously, where are we?”
“We’re at my house.”
I peered above my fingers, eyes traveling around the space. We were in the upstairs bathroom of his parents’ house, and I was laying on the cold, hard tile.
He handed me a water bottle, and I held it against my cheek. The condensation was soothing against my flushed skin.
“Where’s Sophie?” I asked. How the fuck did we even get here? I couldn’t remember leaving Paul’s party. Where was Scott?
“At home, sleeping. Pissed I made her leave the party to take you home.”
I rubbed my head again before sitting up. “What time is it?”
“Five am.”
“Oh, shit. How long have I been asleep?” I asked.
“A few hours. You’ve been puking off and on. I found you in the bathroom at Paul’s, and I seriously thought you were dead.” Jackson’s voice cracked then, and he quickly cleared his throat. “I had to carry you out.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Jackson leaned down to help me stand up, and I felt like I was going to puke or pass out again. I gripped his arm, steadying myself.
I closed my eyes as I inhaled and exhaled, praying I could prevent myself from throwing up again.
When I opened my eyes, Jackson was staring at me, waiting to see what was about to happen. “You okay to walk?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked out.
He slowly guided me to Julie’s old bedroom, helping me get under the covers.
He faced away from me, one hand hovering by the bedside lamp.
“It really hurt to see you like that tonight,” he said softly.
“I won’t drink like that again. I’m sorry you had to take care of me.”
“It’s not that—that’s what friends do. They protect each other.” Jackson was such an asshole sometimes, but I knew he cared about me above all else. And he had always protected me.
I stared at his back, watching as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
He was silent for another moment, then clicked off the light. “What I meant was, it hurt to see you with someone else.” He hovered there in the dark, and I wondered if he wanted me to say something.
My heart rate quickened, and I was sure I was about to puke again. I wanted to reach for him, to tell him the stuff I did with Scott didn’t mean anything, that I called him Jackson, that I had to pretend Scott was Jackson to even enjoy it.
