Page 80 of Don't Let Me Go
Overcome with emotion, Alex pulls me into a hug. It’s jarring at first to feel his arms around me after all these years. At the same time, though, my body still recognizes and responds to his. The warmth of his skin, the tautness of his muscles, the musky scent of his cologne—it’s all familiar. Like an old sweater you find in the back of your closet that still fits.
It’s not like hugging Jackson. Nothing is like hugging Jackson. Even so, it feels good to be held. Alex was the first, last, and only boy I’ve ever hooked up with. Since then, it’s been one long self-inflicted dry spell. If Jackson hadn’t come along, I probably wouldn’t have realized how starved I was for this kind of affection.
It’s my own fault. After Alex, I didn’t want to get hurt again. I’ve been telling myself that I can live without a boyfriend, without sex, without love. But I was wrong. I want all those things.
“Fuck, sorry!” Alex says, pulling away as his face turns bright red. At first, I think he’s referring to the hug. Then I see him cover his groin, and I realize that the lump I’d felt pressing against my thigh a second ago wasn’t his phone.
Guess I’m not the only one starved for affection.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, unable to stop myself from laughing at the absurdity of the situation. “I totally take it as a compliment.”
Alex stares at the ground in mortification. But I can still see the slight hint of a smile when he says, “I guess it’s true what they say. Old habits die hard.”
“Really hard, apparently.”
This time we both laugh. It feels surprisingly good to share a joke with Alex. It’s a new experience for us. There wasn’t much laughter when we were together.
“Since we’re on the topic,” he says, a coy glint twinkling in his eyes, “are you seeing anyone?”
I’m not about to delve into the whole Jackson situation with Alex. Mainly because I still don’t understand what exactly our situation is. So I shake my head.
“No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
“What about that guy you introduced me to? Jackson? I felt like I was getting definite angry-boyfriend vibes from him.”
“Jackson’s just protective,” I explain, trying to convince Alex as much as myself. “There’s nothing between us. We’re just friends.”
Alex looks skeptical. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Trust me, I am totally and pitifully single.”
Alex nods, then shoots me a meaningful look. “Me too.”
In the pregnant silence that follows, I can tell where this conversation is headed even before Alex opens his mouth.
“I don’t suppose you’d want to skip the concert and maybe go back to my place?” he asks, taking a step closer and lowering his voice. “My parents are out of town on a cruise. That’s why I’m here. I’m house-sitting while they’re in the Caribbean. We’d have the place to ourselves.”
I know what he’s asking. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. After weeks of being emotionally jerked around by my feelings for Jackson, I can admit that the chance to hook up with a cute boy who is unambiguously into me is doing wonders for my self-esteem (and my libido). Also, the more I think about it, there is a certain poetic justice in having one last fling with the guy who broke my heart. In terms of closing this chapter of my life, it’d be incredibly satisfying to send Alex off into the sunset with one last romantic hurrah.
Only I don’t want Alex. I want Jackson.
I know that’s completely delusional and totally self-sabotaging. I know that right now, somewhere in this park, he’s probably getting back together with his ex. I know I’m setting myself up for nothing but heartache and disappointment. But I don’t care. Because regardless of how he feels about me, I know how I feel about him. And it’sabsurdto pretend otherwise.
Screw the vow I made this morning. I need to stop being a coward and tell Jackson how much he means to me. Yes, it might ruin our friendship. But maybe—just maybe—it’ll lead to something more. Either way, it’s time to find out.
“So?.?.?.?what do you think?” Alex asks, his grin faltering in my silence.
“I think, as much as it might be fun to hook up for old times’ sake, it’s probably not the healthiest idea.”
“Oh,” he says, unable to hide his disappointment.
“It might make things complicated. And given our history, you and I should probably avoid any more complications. Especially if we want to be friends.”
Alex looks surprised. “Friends?”
“Yeah. I know you have your friends at U of M, but it never hurts to have more. Also, I know you’re still coming to terms with your sexuality.There are things you’re figuring out, so if you ever need to talk—about anything—I’m here for you. Because I meant what I said earlier. I want you to be happy. I want us both to be happy. And right now, I think our best shot at making that happen is for us to be friends.”
Alex considers for a second and then nods. “I’d like that.”
