Page 53 of Double Play
Later, when the music shifts into something darker and heavier, the team starts migrating. Some to the dance floor, some to dark corners to flirt. The booth empties in slow stages until it’s mostly just me and Jackson, shoulder-to-shoulder in the low light, surrounded by noise we don’t have to participate in.
Jackson turns his head toward me, close enough that I can feel his breath.
“I still can’t believe you said yes,” he murmurs.
My chest tightens.
He’s talking about the press. The confirmation. The part where I didn’t hesitate to call him my boyfriend in public.
“I did,” I answer. “Because you’re mine, Jack.”
Jackson’s fingers slide along my forearm, tracing the veins there like he’s grounding himself in the truth.
“It’s weird,” he admits, his voice small under the bass. “In a good way. But… weird.”
“Tell me.”
He swallows. “I keep waiting for it to hurt. For someone to say something ugly to us.”
My anger sparks instantly, hot and sharp. “Who taught you that?” I ask, my voice low.
Jackson’s eyes flick away for half a second, even though I already know the answer.His father.
I catch his chin gently, turning his face back to mine.
“If someone does,” I say, “fuck’em.”
His lashes flutter like he’s fighting emotion and then, because Jackson is Jackson, he tries to dodge it.
“You’re being romantic in a club.” He smirks.
“I can be romantic anywhere,hermoso.”
“Liar,” he whispers, but he’s smiling now.
I stand. “Come with me.”
Jackson blinks. “Where?”
“Hallway,” I say simply.
His eyes sharpen with understanding. “Dre…”
I don’t answer. I just take his hand and he follows.
We slip out of the main room into a darker corridor that leads toward bathrooms and staff-only doors. The sound drops slightly, muffled through walls, still present but less invasive. The lights here are low and red-tinted, the kind of lighting that forgives everything and encourages bad decisions. Jackson presses his back to the wall automatically, like his body remembers this is where we can breathe.
He looks at me, pupils wide.
“This is a terrible idea,” he whispers.
“I know,” I say.
His smile turns dangerous. “We could get caught.”
“Probably,” I admit.
Jackson’s breath catches. “Baby…”
