Page 40 of Don't Let Me Go
Chapter 15
Riley
I’m not a lawyer, but I’m pretty sure it is criminally unprofessional to be this tired. Especially as it’s only my first day on the job here at the ACLU. I’ve already downed three cups of coffee but, despite this, it’s taking all my strength not to lay my head on my laptop and conk out.
Thankfully, my duties so far have consisted almost entirely of filing and photocopying, and not (for example) arguing a case in front of the Supreme Court that could determine the future of civil liberties. Still, I feel incredibly guilty. I might not want to devote the rest of my life to the law, but, per Jackson’s plan, I do want to give this internship a fair chance.
Unfortunately, it seems that I also want to stay up until three every night texting with Jackson. That’s how I spent my entire week of vacation in St. Augustine—chatting with Jackson all night, then drowsing by the condo pool all day.
I should’ve forced myself to go to bed early when I got back to Orlando yesterday, but once again, I couldn’t stop myself from texting until dawn. Which is why I’m currently yawning so hard that I almost unhook my jaw.
“Someone needs some coffee,” Dad observes dryly as he looks up from his desk on the other side of the office. “Why don’t you grab a cup from the break room and stretch your legs? I think Charmaine brought doughnuts if you need some sugar.”
I have no idea who Charmaine is. I’m sure I met her during my tourof the office this morning, but right now, I’m way too tired to put a face with a name. I also doubt a fourth cup of coffee will help if the already dangerous levels of caffeine coursing through my veins aren’t doing the job, but I’ve got to try something.
“Good idea,” I say, setting aside my laptop and rising from the (far too comfortable) sofa that I’ve been working from. “You want me to grab you anything?”
“Maybe a jelly if there are any left?”
I stop in the doorway and stare at him in incomprehension. “You want a jelly coffee?”
Dad blinks in confusion. “No, Riley. A doughnut. I want a jelly doughnut.”
Yikes. I must be more exhausted than I thought. There is no way my brain is this dumb.
“I know,” I say, covering with a forced laugh. “I was joking.” Then I hurry out of the office before Dad can call bullshit on such an obvious lie.
I can’t keep up these all-night texting sessions with Jackson. I’vegotto start going to bed at a reasonable hour. Though if the last week is any indication of my self-control, that’ll be easier said than done.
Over the past few days, Jackson and I have progressed from swapping memes and TikToks to swapping stories about our lives, which is proving just as—if not more—entertaining. Not to mention informative. Seriously, I now know so much about Jackson Haines, I could write his biography.
I know that when he was six, he was terrified of the Tooth Fairy and slept with a baseball bat under his bed to defend his teeth.
I know that when he was ten, he discovered that girls really wanted to kiss him, so at recess he started charging them a dollar per smooch.
I know that freshman year, he won first prize at his school’s Halloween carnival by dressing up in his mom’s old pageant gown and tiara.
Every story that he tells me makes me want to learn more about him. And the more he opens up about his life, the more I want to open up about mine.
Already I’ve told him about my mom leaving when I was six, about the half sisters I’ve never met, about coming out to my dad at twelve and the mortifying STI lecture he gave me withvisual aids.
I’m honestly shocked at how much I’ve told him. I’ve never really been one to talk about myself. My life has always struck me as too messy or sad or boring to share with anyone. But with Jackson, I don’t feel that way. He doesn’t make my life or me feel small or pointless. Just the opposite, in fact. He makes me feel interesting and important. It’s actually quite intoxicating. I haven’t had someone show this much interest in me since I dated Alex Vargas.
Not that you could call what Alex and I diddating. Alex certainly didn’t.
He was a junior when I was a freshman. He was tall, brooding, and (more important)deeplyin the closet. During the day, he kept his distance from me at school. He never wanted to hang out in public or be seen in the same room with me.
At night, though, it was a different story.
At night, Alex could be sweet and flirty, especially over the phone. We would text until dawn, and for a while our mutual obsession with each other seemed almost magical. I even managed to convince myself that we were in a sexyRomeo and Juliet–style situation where no one could be allowed to discover our “forbidden love.” It made all the sneaking around seem exciting and fun instead of what it actually was: pathetic.
We might have gone on like that all year, with Alex ignoring me by day and hooking up with me by night. But one day, in the parking lotafter school, some of the guys from the Thunderbolts started harassing me about my hair, which I’d dyed pink for Halloween.
Alex came out of the building and saw what was happening. But instead of coming to my defense or trying to extricate me from the situation, he kept on walking. Just got in his car and left me to fend for myself against six guys who were twice my size.
Thankfully, Audrey came to my rescue. She scared off the Thunderbolts with some devastating put-downs, and we’ve been best friends ever since.
Alex, meanwhile, dumped me.
