He can't focus during his Thursday Econ class, though he never really could. But today, the number of times Jackson caught himself lost in thought was higher than usual.
He had a good reason. Or did he? Lately he's been questioning everything.
Theo didn't show up for Tuesday practice. Coach said he got sick, but Jackson doesn't buy it. Yesterday's practice Theo appeared late, averting eye contact with everyone, especially Jackson. Jackson didn't care; Theo practiced better than he had all season. Still. Theo drained him more than he'd like to admit, and his fight with Caleb and Lauren kept lingering in the back of his mind.
Hunter notices, and halfway through class a note slides onto his keyboard. He picks it up and reads the scrawled handwriting.
Jackson glances at Hunter. "Really?"
"Goddamn, you're in a mood. Just answer the note." Hunter sounds irritated, but his mischievous smile suggests otherwise.
Jackson looks at the note again with a sigh. It reads: Gay? Yes or No.
So childish, yet Jackson can't stop a small smile from creeping across his face. He takes a pen and circles the Yes, then hands the note back. It feels like a middle school experience he never got to have and he loves everything about it, despite all the shit happening this week. Hunter looks it over, nods, then scribbles something below and drops it on Jackson's lap, accidentally fluttering on top of his crotch. Jackson appreciates the foreshadowing.
10 PM Friday @ Azure?
Just like it always does when the stars align exactly how he wants, Jackson's pulse picks up like a river rushing down a stream, and he writes his response.
Don't be late.
☆★☆
Jackson's thoughts swirl like the water flowing down the drain of his shower. He massages his scalp, more to work the headache away that he's had since his night out with Theo than to clean his hair. At least tonight he's going clubbing. He hasn't gone in a while, but Azure has been mentioned by Tumblr—and he trusts Hunter's taste in anything gay—so he's confident in an exhilarating end to his Friday.
Usually Jackson feels confident and relaxed before a fun night. But today? Jackson's chest tightens and his mind constantly circles Caleb and Lauren's words. He wants his friends to support him, more than he thought he did, and that scares him. It makes him wonder if he's a bad person. Does it make him a bad person if his actions reflect his desires?
For a moment, Jackson's afraid of the answer. Then he thinks, so what? So what if it makes him a bad person to want a guy in his bed to warm some nights, to have fun with hot, interesting people and take his mind off all the stress of his day to day life?
In a burst of rebellious determination, Jackson gets out of the shower, dries off in a rush, and rummages through his closet for something so outrageously gay that no one—not even that blue haired bitch—can doubt what he wants.
When Jackson finishes dressing, he looks in the mirror. Leather pants. Cropped floral print shirt. Black Converse high tops. There's something missing. He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the waves, then walks purposefully back to the bathroom and opens Lauren's drawer filled with makeup. With a steady hand, Jackson applies eyeliner to the upper and lower lids. When he sees his reflection, Jackson stops and stares. There's a wild hunger in his eyes that he hasn't seen since his first time with a boy. After a shaky swallow, he decides not to overthink and heads out of the bathroom and towards the door of the apartment.
As he's reaching for the handle, the door swings open, and Caleb walks in. When he sees Jackson, Caleb's face flattens. He has his yarmulke on, so Jackson assumes he just got back from Shabbat with the Jewish Club. Usually that puts Caleb in a good mood, but apparently Jackson's mere presence cancels that all out.
Caleb gives him a once over. "Where are you going?"
"Out." Jackson recalls a night when Caleb insisted on dressing flamboyantly and going out to a gay club to see if any guys would hit on him. In the end, Caleb got so trashed he actually kissed a guy, but passed out almost immediately after, red lipstick smeared across his lips. Jackson tries not to taint the fond memory with the coldness between them now.
"I'll be going to sleep soon," Caleb says, with a disapproving look. Jackson hears the unsaid words: So don't bring anyone home. Fortunately for Caleb, Jackson isn't planning to.
"Good for you," Jackson says icily.
Caleb's mouth tightens in barely contained anger. "You've changed. You've really changed. And not for the better."
"Oh I've changed?" Jackson asks with a laugh of disbelief. "Who are you, my mom?"
"No, I'm your friend! Your best friend. And I'm worried about you," Caleb says, running a hand over his face.
"If you think I've changed, take a look in the mirror some time," Jackson replies, but deep down he knows Caleb has a point. Even so, it's not his place to call him out on it, right?
Caleb shakes his head. "You go through guys like they mean nothing. Maybe they all mean nothing to you. But it's not good to use people so you don't feel any pain. I know that's why you need them, don't deny it. Because without them, you're hurt. You're so scared of falling in love that you don't let yourself get too close to anyone."
"Well that's easy for you to say!" Jackson says, his voice unintentionally raising. "You have Lauren!"
Caleb looks as shocked as Jackson feels. He hadn't meant to say that.
"Oh. So that's what this is about," Caleb says in quiet, sudden understanding. "You're jealous." His tone is matter-of-fact, and that pisses Jackson off even more.
"Fuck you," Jackson says roughly, his voice spent. He storms out the door before Caleb can reply or he says anything more regrettable.
As he's walking down the street, his cheeks wet, he tries to remember the last time he cried, and for a few minutes he can't think of it. Then it comes to him as the tears blur his vision and the street lamps shine like bright stars.
His parents' divorce. The last time he cried was when his parents got divorced. When Jackson attempts to figure out what this means, he only cries harder.
☆★☆
By the time Jackson reaches Azure, his tears have dried and the faint beat of the music coming from inside brings back a welcome rush of the restless energy he usually has before a night of clubbing. A bouncer stands outside the rainbow painted door, giving Jackson a nod when he flashes his ID. He texts Hunter that he's here and walks inside.
"Wow, is that Jackson Cooper?"
Jackson turns around with a smirk. Hunter looks him up and down appreciatively, while Jackson does the same to Hunter, noticing the significant heel on his shiny black boots, skinny jeans with rips at the thighs, a mesh shirt tucked in a diamond studded belt, the classic leather jacket, feathered earrings barely brushing his shoulders, and sparkles shining on his eyelids and in his hair, which sticks up in gelled spikes.
"You look hot," Jackson says. He doesn't know anyone who can pull off this outfit like Hunter can. Jackson tells him this.
"Aw, honey, thank you, but you really do need to get out more. There's more where I came from," Hunter says, then drags Jackson to the bar, where he orders them shots of tequila.
"It's funny. You think I need to get out more, but my best friend Caleb thinks I go out too much," Jackson says. Hunter's the first person Jackson has said this to. It's a relief to admit it out loud.
"Is he straight?"
"Yep. In love with Lauren, my other best friend. It's a nightmare to watch."
"Typical," Hunter says, rolling his eyes. "Look, don't stress it. He's probably just jealous that you get laid so often, while he's pining after this one girl."
"I don't think he's jealous." Jackson thinks back to their argument barely an hour ago. You're so scared of falling in love that you don't let yourself get too close to anyone. Jackson decides not to tell Hunter about this. "Well, whatever. I don't want to think about Caleb right now. Let's dance."
They walk over to the dance floor, Hunter leading him to the center, where the crowd is thickest, bodies sliding and moving in unison, like a pulsing heart. Jackson wraps his arms around Hunter's slender waist, fingertips skimming skin under the mesh top. God, Jackson needs this. This distraction. This music. Hunter's body pressing up against him, hips fitting against hips, sweat slicking his neck so it shines under the multicolored lights.
Hunter soaks up the vibrant energy like he was born for this exact moment. There's an elegance and gracefulness to him that feels both classy and indecent at the same time. Jackson knows he won't meet anyone like Hunter again, and he's grateful to have met him when it seems he most needed him.
Hunter moves like a cat, twisting his body and sliding his hands on Jackson and they get so close that Jackson can smell his perfume, thick and heavy and sweet, like honey, so strong and overwhelming it's intoxicating. Jackson wants to sink into that sugar, into Hunter's glittering, glowing skin.
"Your place. Now," Jackson whispers, his lips against Hunter's neck, and his skin is hot to the touch, burning, sweaty, and impulsively Jackson licks the dip just under his jawbone, and somehow the salty skin tastes just as sweet as his scent.
They rush back to Hunter's apartment without kissing, the wait like stalling at the top of a rollercoaster, just before the fall, all jittery hands and held breath, building it up for as long as possible. Even during the Uber ride, they do not kiss, only lightly touching hands in the middle seat as if to remind each other of what's to come.
Fitting the key into the lock is a challenge of jangling metal and muffled groans and sighs of impatience and want and need and only when they tumble into the bedroom and close the door does Jackson firmly hold Hunter's face in place and kiss him properly until his breath runs out. Then they're on the bed, Jackson's thigh between Hunter's legs, his face exploring the crook of Hunter's neck, inhaling that honey skin and only finding more of it with each piece of clothing that falls to the floor.
There's something rejuvenating about Hunter that Jackson tries to pinpoint. With Robin comes an air of guilt and shame that presses down on his shoulders. With Theo, anxiety and frustration that builds up in his chest. With Charlie, a certain responsibility and required gentleness. But with Hunter, there's nothing except honey and glitter and sharp wit. Hunter understands him without explanation. Like the period clearly punctuating the end of a sentence.
After they fuck, Jackson sleepily pulls Hunter close, breathing him in and closing his eyes. Some guys would find this rude, but Hunter knows it means nothing, a gesture that doesn't serve as a means to an end. A period.
"Goodnight," Hunter murmurs, just as Jackson closes his eyes and falls asleep.
☆★☆
After soccer practice the next morning, Jackson realizes he made no plans because usually he hangs out with Caleb, maybe going into town and finding a place to eat. He could ask Hunter to chill instead, but Jackson wants to give a little space before hooking up again. After all, the longer the wait, the sweeter the reward.
Jackson didn't want to go back to his apartment and see Caleb, so he texts the only person who would make time for him with such late notice. Robin responds right away, affirming the time and place. Jackson doesn't hesitate, shoving his dirty clothes into his locker and leaving the field toward the street.
Robin sits at a table outside the cafe. He patiently glances around, occasionally looking over his menu, though Jackson suspects he's already chosen what he'll order. Somehow Robin always makes Jackson feel late, even though he's right on time.
"Hey Robin," Jackson says, settling into his seat and picking up a menu. "Thanks for meeting me. I thought I'd be stuck doing this project but it turns out I finished early." He didn't plan on lying, but now that he's here facing Robin's open, warm gaze Jackson can't help himself.
"Me too. Not the project. I don't have a project. I'm just glad we're seeing each other. Not, like, dating, or anything. Just lunch. Food. Hanging out. You know what I mean." Robin's cheeks are bright red and Jackson holds back a cringe at the awkwardness.
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry about it." Jackson pauses. He could date Robin, he knows. Not Hunter, or Charlie. But definitely Robin. This makes him more scared than excited. He could date Robin, and they would be cute, have some fun, go out to Eugene's smaller theatres and hook up in the alleyways. Jackson knows exactly what it would be like, and all the charming perks that come with dating someone like Robin, and yet he knows he could never do it. "Look," Jackson says, "I don't know if you're looking for something more serious but...I don't date. I just thought I'd say that now before..."
"Oh." Robin studies his face with light eyes that shimmer like water in sunlight. Jackson can tell he's slightly disappointed, even though he'd never admit it. "I understand. We don't have to be exclusive. I just..." Robin's voice dies and he shakes it off, smiling. "I'm good with whatever you want."
Jackson smiles back, as if reassured. In reality, he knew Robin would react like this. There's been a couple others like Robin that Jackson has encountered over the years. He used to feel bad about sleeping with people who were in love with him, when he wasn't, but now he figures that he made it clear what he was looking for pretty early on. If they still chose to go further, then it wasn't his fault if they got hurt.
You've changed. And not for the better. Caleb's voice just doesn't seem to leave his head, like a mosquito hovering close by, enough to keep him on edge but not near enough to do something about it. The persistent buzzing sounds a lot like guilt.
Maybe that's why he doesn't take Robin home. Not today, at least. He's made his intentions clear, but Robin needs time to truly understand the implications. No strings attached isn't for everyone.
Jackson also needs time. Away from Robin, who always seems to bring insecurity and doubt along with him. He doesn't know what it is, but something about Robin makes him unsure of his entire identity. Maybe it's not Robin specifically, but the culmination of Robins he's been with and left behind, and now it's all peaked into the final Robin of all Robins, and he just can't take it anymore.
When he feels like this―confused, lonely, and helpless―Jackson calls his mom. Her voice reminds him that there's strength in vulnerability, and that it's okay not to know.
"Hello?"
"Hi mama," Jackson says. He's in his room. Caleb and Lauren are gone, probably together at some pub. Jackson has the sudden urge to cry.
"Is something wrong?"
"Does something have to be wrong for me to call you?"
"No, of course not! Okay, you're right. How are you?"
"Good. Well, I'm fine. It's just...I'm fighting with Lauren and Caleb."
Elena clucks in admonishment. "So something is wrong. What happened?"
"Nothing important. Really it was a misunderstanding. We were at a bar and they were flirting and I just couldn't stand it so I just left after I went to the bathroom." Okay, that's a very vague summary of what happened, Jackson will admit. But he's not about to tell his mother anything about his sex life.
"You left without telling them?"
"Yeah, I guess. And apparently they were scared I got kidnapped or something."
"I would be too! Did you apologize?"
"Yes! I did. But they're still mad."
"Did you really apologize?"
"Mama you're supposed to be on my side," Jackson complains.
"Talk with them, mi hijo. That's the only way."