☼ J A C K S O N ☼
I stared at the door that Sophia had just slammed shut and then looked at Brayden, who was running a hand down his face. For a minute, I wanted to go after Soph and tell her that Brayden was just being an idiot, but I dismissed the idea immediately. I can't go running after my best friends girl after they just got in an argument. That would be wrong.
But when Brayden turned to me and shook his head, groaning, "Why the fuck did she just get so upset?" I knew I had to say something.
"Because you were being unsupportive," I tell him, then take another swig of my beer.
He falls on the couch beside me and glares at the side of my face as I drink. "I asked one question!"
I glanced at him and raised my eyebrows. "We could all tell you weren't happy about her news."
"Because it's unrealistic," Brayden is quick to point out. "She has a good job now. I don't understand why she's still so obsessed with art if she can't make a career out of it."
When I listened to him speak, I suddenly understand why Sophie didn't want to tell him about her hating her job. He just didn't get it. Ever since he got out of college, his personality shifted until he was more work oriented and strived for a realistic, conventional future. He got a good job at a big corporation with opportunities for promotion and fantastic benefits.
The more playful and carefree Brayden slowly dissipated when he got his new job, and his ideals became skewed. In college, he was completely supportive of Sophia and her artwork; now, he hated it. He thought only in terms of realism, dismissing any dream that he deemed to be out of reach. And, unfortunately for Sophia, those dreams were pursuing her art.
I shake my head in disbelief at Brayden. "You can't help if your dream is unconventional. Plus, she's good. She actually has a shot at making something of herself."
Brayden scoffs. "What do you mean, her dream? She was only talking about painting something for her office."
I hesitate for a beat when I realize he doesn't understand the extent to which Sophie wants to pursue her art, but cover it up quickly. "She was clearly excited about the idea of being officially commissioned to paint something for someone, even if it was a one time thing. I'm just saying, if she loves it so much, you should be supportive of it."
He sits on the couch for another moment, thinking over my words, before he sighs and leans back into the cushions. "You're right, I can be supportive of a one time thing. I mean, at least she's not making a career out of it."
Instead of answering, I take another long swig of my beer, feeling torn. On one hand, I felt like I should tell Brayden that she is, in fact, considering pursuing her art as a career. I felt like I owed it to him as his best friend. But on the other hand, I couldn't possibly betray Sophie's trust, because then she would never trust me with anything as big as this again.
So I kept quiet, and left his apartment when he told me he was heading over to Sophia's place to talk to her. I drove back to my apartment with The Eagles blaring through my radio, my windows down and the cool evening summer breeze whipping against my face. The drive from Brayden's place to mine only took about ten minutes, and I found a parking space right in front of my apartment building, which was a rare blessing in the city.
I hopped out of my car humming along to the song that had just been playing on the radio and entered my apartment building, waving hello to the doorman. "Hey, Pat."
Patrick, an aging black man with the friendliest smile you've ever seen, nods at me. "Hello, Mr. Gaines."
I stop mid stride and give him a look, saying warningly, "Pat."
"Sorry," Pat grins and repeats back to me what I tell him to say just about every time I see him: "Hey, Jackson, what's up dude?"
I grin back at him, chuckling, "Better. I'll see ya later, Pat."
He tips his hat to me. "See you later, Jackson."
By the time I get into my apartment, all I can think about is a shower. I went straight from work to Brayden's house, completely disregarding my dirt smeared cheeks so I could have a beer with him and watch the game for a little. The second I got inside, I started to strip out of my clothes, and made a beeline for the bathroom.
After fifteen blissful minutes of standing under the spray of the lukewarm water, I finally head out of my shower, drying my hair with the only towel I brought. My favorite part about living at home alone was the fact I didn't have to care about anyone else seeing me naked. Not like that changed much of my behavior when I was living with Brayden.
I walk to my room and pull on a pair of sweats, then walk out to the kitchen, still towel drying my hair. When I walked out into the hallway, I heard a familiar squeak, and looked up to see Sophia standing in the middle of the hallway, her eyes wide and a blush coating her cheeks. I blink at her, surprised by her suddenly appearing in my apartment, before I raise my eyebrows at her.
"Well this was unexpected," I say, lowering the towel from my head. "What are you doing here? Brayden was going over to your apartment to see you."
The previous surprise in her eyes faded quickly into annoyance. "I know, he's called me about ten times since I got here." She mutters, then looks up at me, her expression becoming timid, something I wasn't used to seeing on Sophia. "I wanted to talk to you, since you're the only one I can really talk to about everything."
I catch her eyes flicker down to my chest before she abruptly looks toward the wall, her cheeks reddening slightly, and I look down at myself in confusion. Then, I remember my lack of a shirt, and the fact my sweats were riding low on my hips. I couldn't help the small smirk that came across my lips when I realized she had been checking me out.
"Fee," I tsk mockingly. "I know we're friends and all, but I don't think Brayden would appreciate you checking me out."
Her cheeks were beet red by now, and she covered her face with her hands. I couldn't help but laugh. She was so cute. "Shut up, Jacks. Go put a shirt on."
I grin as I take in her cheeks, coated a deep red, covered by her hands and her hair, which fell around her shoulders perfectly. Her delicate fingers moved so she could peak at me, her bright eyes cautious as she looked out toward me, keeping her eyes trained on my face. When I realized I was staring, my smile dropped, and I scratched the back of my head sheepishly.
"Only because if your face gets any redder, you'll look like a tomato," I joke easily, then turn to head back toward my room.
She mutters something under her breath that I don't catch, but I'm too busy mentally scolding myself for staring at her like that. I tug a shirt on and take a deep breath before I head back out to the hallway, but Sophie is nowhere to be found. I look in the kitchen and she isn't in there, either, so I check the living room.
Sophie is standing at my bookshelf, bent down so she can finger through my records. My eyes immediately zero in on her ass because, lets face it, I'm still a guy no matter who's girl she is, and I stare at her perfectly rounded butt before I snap out of it. I force my gaze upward to see her picking out a Rolling Stones vinyl.
"Some Girls, eh?" I say, leaning against the doorframe.
She turns around and stands up straight, looking at me with a sheepish smile. "It's one of my favorites. I didn't know you had it on vinyl."
I nod my head toward my record player. "Put it on."
Excitement lights up in her eyes as she eyes my beat up record player, and she doesn't waste any time in moving toward it. Carefully, she takes the record out of its case and sets it on the record player, then rests the needle on top. She turns the player on and Miss You starts playing quietly in the room, filling in the silence between us.
A memory flashed in the forefront of my mind of a night in college when Sophie and I were up all night listening to this album. We had been drinking earlier in the night, and Brayden passed out drunk, so we sat on the floor sharing a bottle of wine as we listened to the Rolling Stones and talked about life. Thinking back, it was probably one of my favorite nights I could remember.
I watch her as her eyes stay trained on the record player, and a small smile turns the corner of her lips up. She looks back at me and her smile grows a little as she asks, "Do you remember the night we listened to this whole album when Brayden was passed out drunk?"
Instead of admitting that I had just been thinking about it, I grin wickedly at her. "You mean the night you admitted to me that you liked the Kardashians?"
She rolls her eyes, but her smile is still wide. "They're not that bad, Jacks. I still stand by that statement."
"To each their own," I say calmly, then add nonchalantly, "But you're wrong."
Sophie laughs at this, but her laughter calms down, and I can see it in her eyes that she remembered the reason she came here in the first place. She walks over to my couch and sits down, looking up at me with big eyes. Cautiously, I sit on the coffee table in front of her, and lean my forearms against my thighs.
"Talk to me," I hear myself say softly, without thinking much about it.
Fire lights up in Sophia's eyes as she rants, "It's just so infuriating that Brayden can't even be happy for me. He obviously hates the fact that I enjoy doing art still."
"He doesn't hate it," I try to defend lamely, but she just gives me a blank look.
"This morning I was drawing on the roof of the apartment," Sophia says, her eyes casting from mine to out the window. "He woke up and found me up there, and I could just see it on his face how much he hated the fact I was drawing. He made me come downstairs to get ready for work instead. If I told him I wanted to quit my job for art, he would go ballistic."
I frown at her because, well, it's hard not to. Sophia was like a puppy who had been kicked when she was upset: she voice was strained with helplessness and her eyes were wide and disbelieving. I didn't know what to say, but I wanted to say something- anything- to rid her of this sadness that burdened her. So I said something stupid, something that I shouldn't have, something that put me smack dab in the middle of their argument.
"I can talk to Brayden," I say confidently, despite how wrong the words were. "To make him realize pursuing art isn't such a bad thing."
Her eyes looked at me in surprise as she asked slowly, "Really?"
I swallow the uncomfortable lump in my throat. "Really," I insist, although the poor decision is already dawning on me. "Will that help?"
She didn't answer, but instead threw her arms around me, knocking me backwards. If it hadn't been for my feet sturdily on the ground, I'm almost positive we would've fallen onto the ground behind the coffee table. Sophia wrapped her arms around my neck and squeezed her small frame against me, and after a moment of hesitance, I wrapped my arms around her back.
Her hair tickled my nose, smelling like the sweet scent of vanilla that followed her everywhere she went. "Thank you so much, Jackson."
I felt something in her jeans vibrate, and the sensation caused her to pull away from me with a pout on her lips again. I watched silently as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and then glance distastefully at the screen, and I was positive that it was Brayden. She took a step back from me and took a deep breath before answering the call.
"Hi mom," Sophia says in a cheerful voice that didn't match her wary expression. "Yeah, come at seven... No, you don't have to bring anything... Okay, I'll see you then... Okay, bye."
I ran a hand through my hair and took a deep breath before she hung up. When she glanced at me, we shared a look, the only noises between us being the static on top of the Rolling Stones track that had been playing in the background. For a brief second, I forgot the dumbass promise I had just made to her, and just looked in Sophia's big eyes.
And then the moment passed, and I straightened up, smiled tightly at her, and asked, "Your parents are coming over?"
"Uh, yeah," Sophia nods vigorously, and then stuffs her phone in her pocket again. "I need to go back to my apartment to start dinner. Brayden is coming over to have dinner with us. That is, if he doesn't bail again."
I nod stiffly. "I'll call him and talk some sense into him before dinner then, alright?"
She smiles at me again, looking genuinely pleased by my words. "Thank you again, Jacks. Seriously, I owe you."
I walk her to my door, mentally cursing myself for telling her I would be getting myself in the middle of her fight with her boyfriend. It wasn't my place, that much I knew, and I was more than reluctant to call Brayden and tell him what to do about his girlfriend. When I opened the door, Sophia walked out, but turned around to give me a serious look.
"Tomorrow night let's go get some beers and talk about how to get a girl," She says suddenly, like she had decided in her confusing little mind to blurt the words only second before.
Despite this, I nod and say, "As long as you don't have me make an ass out of myself again."
She rolls her eyes at me, visibly relaxing. "That was your fault," She points out stubbornly, then smiles again. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"See you tomorrow, Fee," I grin wickedly.
Before she can yell at me for using the nickname she hated, I shut my door and could practically hear her huff in annoyance despite the door between us. My amusement quickly faded when I saw my phone on the coffee table, a reminder of what I was about to do. With an exasperated groan, I walk over to my phone, and dial Brayden's number.
After a few rings, he answers, "'Sup, man?"
I grind my teeth together, mentally preparing myself for the hell I was about to break loose. "I was thinking about what happened with you and Sophie earlier, and I think you should open yourself up to the idea of her pursuing art as a career."
So much for the traditional "hello", or even easing into the conversation.
The line was deadly silent before Brayden asks incredulously, "Why the hell would I do that?"
I shut my eyes and ran my hand over my face. "I think that if you tell her you're supportive of her full time, not just part time when she does one time paintings, then it will ease some of the tension in your relationship."
Again, he was silent for a moment. And then, "And why the fuck do you think that you suddenly know what's best for my relationship?"
There it was. The inevitable. Brayden got pissed every time I tried to interfere in his relationships, or tell him that he was wrong in general, and I knew this was no exception. But I can only blame myself for being a big enough dumbass for volunteering to get in the middle of everything.
"I don't know," I mutter lamely. "It was just a suggestion, man. You know I'm just looking out for you."
He sighs, and I open my eyes at the sound of his submission. "I know, dude, I know. I'm sorry. Soph isn't answering my calls and she isn't at her apartment, and we're supposed to have dinner with her fucking parents tonight, which is the last thing I want to do."
The conversation was getting painful the more we entered their relationship territory. I shouldn't know these things about their relationship, nor did I want to.
"Just give her some space and show up to her house for dinner with flowers or something. Shit, I don't know," I say, exasperated. "Just remember what I said about being cool about her art. Not just for a one time thing, but continuously. Okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Brayden mutters. "But what should I do about-"
I hang up and throw my phone on the couch, then take a deep breath. Fuck dealing with someone else's relationship. I need a beer.