Disappointment settled onto my chest. I wasn’t sure if my face changed with the feeling or not, but she said, “Let me go check.” She closed the door halfway, then left.

A couple minutes later the door squeaked open again and Jackson stood there in some too-small sweats and a T-shirt. I gave him my confident look: shoulders back, sure smile on my face. He ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up, and a guarded smile came onto his face. “Moore. You’re here.” He glanced over my shoulder and saw the truck parked against the curb in front of his house and his smile widened. “You did it.”

“Barely.” I thrust the drink forward. “This is for you. An I-was-a-jerk-again bribe. I’m sorry for what I said in the parking lot.”

He shrugged. “You’ve labeled me as a slacker, and you’re sticking by it. I appreciate the consistency.”

He wasn’t going to accept my apology or the drink I was still holding out. “At least take this. You know I can’t drink it. It’s disgusting.”

He laughed and took the drink.

“Thank you.” I turned and walked away.

“Moore?”

I stopped but didn’t turn.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you want me to come?”

I put my head down, letting that confident front drop for a moment as utter relief poured through my body. At least he couldn’t see my face.

“Is that a no?” he asked.

“Yes—no—I mean, please. I want you to come.”

“Let me grab some shoes. I’ll meet you out there.”

Just seconds after I climbed into the cab, he did too, holding a pair of Converse in one hand and his drink in the other. He almost sat on the box my mom had placed inside weeks ago but slid it over to the middle just in time.

“You know I only agreed so I could sit in this truck, right?”

Right. I had forgotten about his love of this truck.

“A joke. After all this time and you constantly reminding me that I joke about everything, you don’t get my joke?”

I choked out a weird sputtering laugh.

“Are you freaking out?” He studied me closer, then cussed. “You’re freaking out.”

“No. I’m fine.”

He let out a single laugh. “Fine, huh? Okay, take a deep breath.” He dropped his shoes on the floor and his hand went to my neck, where he began to massage. “Just breathe.” He turned on the radio but the static was still the only noise it would produce. I loved that he knew music would’ve helped. But there was no music. Only deafening silence filled with the thoughts of how stupid this was.

“My parents are going to kill me,” I said.

“Your parents are not going to kill you.”