It All Started With A Kiss

IX. (Part Two)

  He was likely right once more. As we. cruised along the familiar roads, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement as I witnessed the spark of passion in his eyes. For each topic, we explored layers of the thrill of the ride, turning what would have been a mundane trip into a vibrant exchange of ideas and laughter. With every twist and turn, I wished the journey would never end, and I could sense that he felt the same. The air was electric with our shared enthusiasm, making this the fastest and most enjoyable ride home I had ever experienced. It was a moment I wanted to stretch out indefinitely, reluctant to see it conclude.

"Come on in and meet my family."

"No, I have to get home."

"That can wait a little longer. Come on, I know you'll like them. I promise we won't lock the door. You can get out whenever you need to."

I was a little scared to meet them, but it didn't take too much convincing for me to spend a little more time with him.

"Is that you, Jackson?" I heard as we entered through the front door.

"Hi, Mom."

As she stepped into the foyer, the soft light illuminated her presence, casting a gentle glow around her. She was slightly shorter than me, standing at perhaps five feet four, with cascading brown hair that framed her delicate features. Her warm brown eyes sparkled with kindness, showcasing a deep emotion that could quickly draw someone in. Her thin face was accentuated by high cheekbones and a nose that added character to her gentle demeanor.

A radiant smile graced her lips, lighting up the entire room and instantly putting everyone at ease. She moved gracefully across the space, enveloping him in her arms, exuding warmth and comfort as she held him close. Their connection was palpable, a moment that spoke volumes without needing words.

"I'm so glad you're home." She released him and turned to me.

"Mom, this is my friend Beck."

"The same ..." she had a quizzical look on her face. "So nice to meet you. If Jackson says you're his friend, I'm sure you're a lovely girl. Come on in and meet everyone."

I tried to protest, but she put her arm around me and led me to the kitchen.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mrs. —"

"Georgia," she said.

"Georgia."

"You should know why she uses that," Jackson said.

"Jackson," Sunny admonished.

"Georgia Sunshine Wilder. What would you call yourself? Mom was born in a commune." He said it with obvious affection.

We reached the kitchen.

"Mom and Dad, I'd like you to meet Jackson's friend, Beck," Sunny said.

Her mother also gave me that same quizzical look, but it didn't last long. She and Sonny's father greeted me warmly.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. ..."

"Jusyin and Britney," interrupted Jackson.

She must have seen the confused look in my eyes. "I'm Britney. And this is my husband, Justin," she said, graciously resolving my confusion.

Britney stood out with her vibrant, tie-dyed blouse, the swirling colors of deep blues, bright oranges, and rich purples creating a mesmerizing pattern reflecting her lively personality. Paired with a flowing peasant skirt that danced just above her ankles, the fabric moved gracefully with her every step, a tapestry of earthy tones that complemented her top beautifully. Around her neck hung an exquisite necklace, the centerpiece a stunning turquoise stone that glimmered under the light, surrounded by intricate silverwork that added a touch of elegance. It was an unusual combination, artfully blending bohemian styles with a hint of sophistication. When our eyes met, I couldn't help but notice the warmth in her smile, as if she welcomed my admiration.

"Do you like it? It's an original Britney."

"Britney makes jewelry," said Jackson. "She learned it on the commune and learned she was a natural. She gets orders from all over the country."

I could hear the love and admiration in his voice. It must be nice.

They asked about me. I couldn't give them a wrong answer.

Whatever I said was "wonderful" to them.

The place where I lived felt hot and inviting; it was indeed "so nice" in every sense. Pursuing a degree in business carried immense weight in my life, making it essential for my future. I always considered myself "so sweet" for taking Jackson home with me and sharing genuine and heartfelt moments. The way they expressed their appreciation made everything feel sincere rather than overly sentimental or forced. Being part of this family was like receiving constant encouragement, boosting my self-esteem daily. I often find myself wishing for more moments like those...

"Oh my God, I've been here almost two hours. I have to get home. They'll be wondering where I am."

Probably not.

Dad might be home for dinner today, especially since it was the day before Thanksgiving when families often gather. If Mom was around, I wouldn't catch a glimpse of her until the aroma of her cooking filled the house, signaling that dinner was nearing completion. Unless I took the initiative to search for her in the kitchen or wherever she might be, I knew I wouldn't see her. My parents would be completely unaware of my absence in their busy lives, lost in their preparations and routines. Watching the bustling families of my friends contrasted sharply with my home life, and it started to weigh heavily on me, filling me with a sense of melancholy. I couldn't help but feel isolated as I compared their warmth and togetherness to the growing distance I felt from my family.

Justin said, "Why don't you give them a call and stay for dinner? I made Steak."

"Justin's a chef," said Jackson.

"I, I can't. I have to get home. Thanks for the invitation, though."

Georgia hugged me. "You come back any time, Honey. You're always welcome here."

Britney hugged me. "I hope we see you again, Buttercup."

Georgia, Buttercup, she had a thing for flowers.

Justin hugged me. "You're a sweet girl. You're welcome in our family anytime."

"It was so nice to meet all of you."

It was one of the highlights of my year. It was one of the highlights of my life.

Jackson walked me to the door and hugged me. "I'm glad you came in," he said.

I lost it. I buried myself in his arms and started to sob.

I found myself in a place devoid of genuine friendships. While polite and seemingly supportive, my family often left me questioning the depth of their emotions. Could their kindness be merely a facade, a sense of obligation that stemmed from my role as their child—an extension of their social status rather than a person they truly cherished? In my interactions with others, I often approached them with a transactional mindset, assessing what they could offer me rather than connecting on a deeper level. It puzzled me how I had come to such a convoluted state. If I had to place the blame, I would point to Jackson. Since meeting him, I struggled to recall when I had indeed let my guard down, unencumbered by the walls I had built around myself. His presence disrupted the carefully constructed defenses I had relied on for so long.

"Be my friend," I asked.

He held on until I settled down.

"Of course."

He wrote down his number and said to call if I needed to talk.

I told him I'd call to arrange to drive back to school. Then I left.

After gathering my thoughts, I stepped through the front door of my home, a wave of emotions washing over me. I felt as if I were encased in a frigid layer of ice, once again adopting the stoic demeanor of an ice queen. The visit to Jackson's family lingered in my mind, leaving me torn between feelings of enrichment and trauma.

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Word Counts (before edited) - 1326 words