Page 22 of Just Don't Call Me Yours

When Jess and Izzy lose, I ignore the fact that we’re supposed to play again and tell him I’m going to look for Rae.

It’s half the truth. As much as I’d like to find Rae, I know she’s with Matt, so I’m not worried. The two of them are somewhere around here, and I’m sure I’ll bump into them eventually.

The other half of the truth is I don’t want to give Keith the wrong idea. I’ve succeeded at keeping him at arm’s length so far, but I’ve never been around him while he drinks, and the last thing I need is for him to let liquid courage lead the way.

At the edge of the family room are two sliding glass doors, and stepping outside for some air sounds better than anything else right now. My fingers wrap around the handle, opening the door to a screened-in patio. It looks like some people have started a bonfire in the backyard, their silhouettes illuminated by the crackling flames. As I step out and watch everyone through the screen, I finally feel like I’m glad to be here. The energy of everyone having fun is electric, and now that I’m outside, the fire reminds me of home. Maybe I’ll even stumble across something noteworthy to write about tonight.

The Parties Outside of Greek.

It has potential, but to do a full write-up on it, I’d probably have to compare it to the parties within Greek. I guess I can kiss that post goodbye. I already have my parents doubting my major. They don’t see how I’ll earn more than five figures as a journalist, so to them, my degree is frivolous. If I’m going to go against their wishes, the one thing I can do is at least commit myself to it and make sure I succeed.

No rushing.

No sororities.

No distractions.

“Hiding from Keith?” an all too familiar voice says behind me.

I whip around to find Jackson sprawled casually in a wicker patio chair. He raises the bottle of whiskey in a sort of greeting, and I suddenly don’t feel as happy about being here as I did a moment ago.

I cross my arms. “Why would I hide from Keith?”

Jackson sits forward before taking another sip from the bottle. “Because he’s boring.”

My lips fall. “He is not. He’s a really nice guy.”

He forces a laugh. “Yeah, a really nice guy who bores you.” I glare at him, and when I don’t say anything, he raises both hands, still holding the bottle. “Tell me I’m wrong.” He doesn’t seem drunk. His steel eyes are clear as he watches me, challenging me. I walk over to him, and his lips quirk as I snatch the bottle from his hand. “I thought so.”

Ignoring him, I take a sip and grimace at the taste. It’s unsettling how well he can read me. I haven’t even told Rae I think Keith is boring. I don’t think I realized it myself until he put it out there for me to think about, but he’s right. Keith has a way of going on about the details of his day for the sake of having something to talk about. “Why do you care, anyway?”

He beckons for the bottle back, so I hand it over before sitting in the chair next to him.

“I don’t.” He takes a sip. I expect him to say something more, but he just stares out at the backyard with the bottle resting at his lips.

“Are you hiding from Izzy?” I hold out my hand for him to pass the bottle back. I don’t even know if Izzy likes him, but if he’s throwing shots at Keith, I might as well throw something back.

My question pulls him from his thoughts, and he quickly takes another sip before handing it over. “No.”

I thumb the label as I stare at him a little longer, trying to figure him out. “So, you think she likes you?”

He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter if she does or doesn’t.” Rubbing his hands on his jeans, he adds, “If my goal is to tour, there’s no point getting involved with someone here.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard you joined a band. Congrats.”

He gives me a sideways glance. “Thanks.”

“It’s sort of bleak though, isn’t it?”

He frowns. “What is?”

I finally take a sip and let the warmth spread through me before answering. The taste no longer burns as much as it did before. “Assuming a relationship isn’t worth it just because you’re hoping your band goes on tour.”

Jackson gives me a long, sideways glance. “I don’t want a relationship.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Trust me, if you find a girl who actually wants to spend time with you, you should jump on it. You’re not exactly fun to be around.”

He holds out his hand for the bottle, and I pass it to him. “You’re spending time with me.”

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