Page 10

Chloe

T he clatter of dishes fills the kitchen as I help Mom clean up after lunch. Sunlight streams through the window, catching on soap bubbles floating in the sink. I'm elbow-deep in sudsy water when Mom clears her throat.

"So, honey," she begins, "how are you feeling after the party last night?"

I tense slightly, sensing the real question behind her words. Memories of the party flash through my mind—the pulsing music, the laughter, Jackson's warm hand in mine. I force myself to relax, focusing on scrubbing a stubborn bit of food off a plate.

"I'm okay," I say, aiming for nonchalance. "It was fun. Thanks for letting me go."

Mom hums thoughtfully as she dries a glass. "That's good. I'm glad you had a nice time." She pauses, and I can practically feel her gearing up for more questions. "You and Jackson seem to be spending more time with each other lately."

My heart skips at the mention of Jackson's name. I bite my lip, debating how much to share. The truth is, I'm not sure what's going on between us. That kiss at the party...it felt like something shifted, but I'm terrified of getting my hopes up.

"We're just friends, Mom," I say, hating how my voice wavers slightly. "Anyway, he’s Ethan’s friend more than mine.”

"Mmm-hmm," Mom murmurs, clearly unconvinced. I can feel her eyes on me, but I keep my gaze fixed on the soapy water. “Well, he’s been very good to you since the breakup with Brendan. He’s a nice boy.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Jackson is nice—more than nice. He's been my rock since the breakup. But what if I'm reading too much into things? What if last night was just a mistake?

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Mom says softly, touching my arm. "I know this breakup hasn't been easy for you."

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. "I know, Mom. Thanks."

We fall into silence, the only sounds the gentle clink of dishes and the rhythmic swish of the dishtowel.

I'm grateful Mom doesn't push further, even though I can tell she wants to.

As I rinse the last plate, I take a deep breath, steadying myself.

Whatever happens with Jackson, I know I'll be okay.

I've survived worse, after all. And for now, that has to be enough.

“Will Jackson be coming over today?”

I try not to roll my eyes. So much for Mom not pushing. I hesitate, twisting the dishtowel in my hands. "We're just friends. Really."

She raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "If you say so, sweetie. I know he’s had a bit of a reputation in the past but he’s quite the catch. Those Whitaker boys have always been handsome."

I feel my cheeks flush. "Mom! The only other Whitaker boy is his dad!”

“Don’t tell your father I said that.”

“I heard that,” my dad says from the other room.

“I can say what I want when I’m the one doing the dishes,” Mom shouts back.

“Because I cooked,” my dad retorts.

She laughs and shakes her head, putting away a stack of plates. "You're right to focus on friendship, especially with college coming up, but life doesn’t always go the way you plan.”

Just as I'm about to dive deeper into my college plans, desperate for any distraction from thoughts of Jackson, my phone buzzes on the counter. My heart leaps into my throat.

Mom glances at the screen before I can grab it. "Speak of the devil," she says with a knowing smile. "Looks like Jackson's ears were burning."

I snatch the phone, my cheeks burning. "Mom, come on. It's not like that."

But even as I protest, I can't help the way my pulse quickens as I read his message:

Meet me at the pier in 30? Need to talk.

My stomach does a somersault. Talk about what? The kiss? Our friendship? My mind races with possibilities, each more anxiety-inducing than the last.

"You know," Mom says, her voice softer now, "it wouldn't be the worst thing if Jackson did have feelings for you. He's a good kid."

I bite my lip, staring at the text. "Yeah, but...it's complicated.”

"Isn't it always?" She squeezes my shoulder. "Just be honest with yourself, honey. And with him."

I nod. "I will," I manage, though I'm not sure if I'm ready for whatever this conversation might bring.

As I type out a quick “ On my way” I can't help but wonder, am I walking toward something amazing, or am I about to make a total idiot of myself and end up with a broken heart for the second time this summer?

I hover over the send button for a moment before I take a deep breath and hit it. The message whooshes away, and I feel a mix of excitement and dread settle in my stomach.

"So, rushing off to see your boyfriend then?" Mom teases, her eyes crinkling in the corners.

I roll my eyes, but I can't stop the smile that tugs at my lips. "I just told you, he's not my boyfriend, Mom. We're just...figuring things out."

"Uh-huh," she says, unconvinced. "Well, whatever you're 'figuring out,' make sure you're home for dinner."

As I grab my handbag and keys, I can't help but feel a thrill at the thought of seeing Jackson again. His smile, his warm brown eyes, the way he always seems to know exactly what to say to make me feel better. But then I remember the kiss, and my stomach does another flip.

I pause at the door, taking a deep breath. This could just be Jackson wanting to clear the air, to say it was a mistake. I need to be prepared for that.

"Chloe?" Mom calls from the kitchen. I turn to see her leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her face. "Never forget, you're an amazing girl. Any guy would be lucky to have you."

I feel a lump form in my throat. "Thanks, Mom.”

The walk to the pier feels both endless and too short. I keep replaying every moment of last night at the party. Jackson's hand on my waist, the warmth of his breath, the softness of his lips. I shake my head, trying to clear the memory.

This shouldn’t feel this way. After all, I’ve known him for ages. He’s Ethan’s best friend. He’s only my fake boyfriend.

But that's the problem, isn't it? It stopped feeling fake the moment his lips touched mine.

As I round the corner, the pier comes into view, stretching out over the sparkling water. And there he is. Jackson. Leaning against the railing, the late afternoon sun catching his dark hair, making it look almost golden. My heart does a little stutter-step.

"Hey, Chlo," he calls out, waving.

I raise my hand in a weak wave back, willing my legs to keep moving. "Hey," I manage to say as I reach him. "So, um, what's up?"

He runs a hand through his hair which he only seems to do when he’s nervous. "I thought we should talk. You know, about...everything. This fake boyfriend stuff etcetera.” He pauses. “I didn’t want to wait any longer or do it over text.”

I nod, my throat suddenly dry. "Yeah, probably a good idea."

We start walking down the pier, the old wooden boards creaking under our feet. The salty breeze whips my hair around my face, and I tuck it behind my ear, sneaking a glance at Jackson.

"So," I begin, my voice barely audible over the lapping waves, "things have gotten pretty complicated, huh?"

Jackson lets out a low chuckle. "That kiss…Chlo, I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable? No, I…”

What do I even say? That no one has ever kissed me like that? That I can’t stop thinking about it? That I don’t think I can ever go back to normal and stop wishing for another?

He stops walking and turns to face me, his brown eyes intense. "I don't want to lose you as a friend.”

A friend. My heart gives an empty, dull thud. Clearly, that kiss meant more to me than to him.

“And Ethan wants—”

“My brother has nothing to do with this,” I say quickly.

I feel hollow inside. He’s so busy worrying about what my brother will think that he doesn’t even care how I feel.

“I want to look after you, Chlo.”

“I hate to point it out but you’re not Ethan. And I have a mom and a dad and friends to look after me. You’re not responsible for me and I don’t want to feel like some sort of burden.”

His eyes widen and I clamp my mouth shut. I didn’t mean for all that to come out but I think I’m getting tired of this macho nonsense, treating me like I can’t make my own decisions.

“I’m not uncomfortable with the kiss,” I say firmly, folding my arms and lifting my chin, despite that fact my pulse is rocketing through me.

“Right.” A little relief crosses his face. “Good.” Jackson gives a strained smile. “I didn’t mean to imply that you can’t look after yourself. I’m just trying—”

“To help, I know. And you did. You really did.” I reach out and put a hand to his arm, somehow ignoring the sensation it spreads through my hands to touch his muscles. “It would have been a lot harder to face Brendan without you.”

“Maybe we just need to set some boundaries.”

I swallow past the knot in my throat. So Jackson doesn’t want to end this whole fake boyfriend thing? A silent thrill runs through me. The thought of playing pretend longer is both terrifying and insanely exciting.

And dangerous.

I can already feel my heart getting involved. Why else would I lash out at him?

“Like what?”

“Like whether I should kiss your or not.” He runs a hand over his face. “I didn’t think…that is, I just reacted when I kissed you, and you didn’t deserve that. I didn’t give you a choice.”

“I had a choice, Jackson.” The word comes out quietly. I did have a choice. Technically. I could have backed away or made him stop at any moment. I know that. I trust Jackson with my life.

At the same time, I felt entirely powerless to stop that kiss because, truthfully, I didn’t want to stop it.

“I was just thinking, if you want to continue with this whole fake boyfriend thing—”

“I do,” I say before I can change my mind.

His smile warms a little and I like it far too much.

“Then we just lay some ground rules. Then neither of us are taken by surprise.”

“So what sort of ground rules were you thinking?”

He stops and leans over the pier rail. I follow suit, resting my elbows against the metal and watching the sea lap against the pier supports.

"First and foremost, we need to be completely honest with each other. No more surprises or assumptions. If anything makes you uncomfortable or if you want to stop this...arrangement, just tell me."

“And second?”

“No more surprises. Everything clear and agreed upon."

"Definitely. No more impulsive moves." I nod. It’s for the best really. If I’m not sitting around waiting for a kiss from Jackson, I can just focus on getting my act together and getting ready for college.

“And third…”

“Yes?”

“If either of us are uncomfortable with where this is going, we end it. Amicably and calmly. You don’t need anymore drama this summer, Chlo.”

I force a smile. I really don’t. The breakup with Brendan was enough drama for one summer.

So why does it feel like all these ground rules haven’t contributed anything to making me feel more in control of this situation?

Why do I feel like this thing with Jackson is an emotional train wreck waiting to happen?

I press my lips together and keep my focus on the ocean. More importantly, why don’t I want to put a stop to this here and now, even knowing I’m heading for disaster?