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I could take lessons from her. In fact, I have been, and she’s been a big help. Showing me how much stronger I can be.
That’s what I need. To be stronger. To stand up for myself. To ask for what I want, instead of expecting someone to figure it out on their own.
Like Jackson.
The band ends their set with a ballad, and all the girls sway with their arms up in the air, clutching their phones with the flashlight on, brightening the room. The couples I’m with are all cuddled up with each other, while Gracie, Caleb and I stand together, me in between them. I catch Caleb glancing in Gracie’s direction what feels like every few seconds, and I wish these two would either make it happen or give up. He also needs to do that with Baylee. Either tell her he wants to be with her, or cut her loose.
He’s not good enough for her. She’s put up with that shit way too long. Longer than I have with Jackson. I’ve gone to school with Baylee for what feels like forever. I’ve never really gotten close to her though. She moved in a different circle than I did, plus she’s a year older than me. And while she’s hung out with our group a few times, Caleb doesn’t bring her around that much. He actually told us he didn’t want to put ideas in her head by letting her hang with us.
That’s kind of messed up. But that’s exactly what the two of them are.
Like Jackson and me.
He put way too many ideas in my head, and now look at me. Pissed and hurt, ready to walk away for good. I’m even willing to give up my friends, so I don’t have to deal with his dumb ass anymore.
That’s actually infuriating.
When Cupid’s Bow finish their set, the curtains drop and the girls are left screaming at nothing. Once the regular lights come up and background music starts, some of the crowd thins, giving us more room to inch closer to the stage.
“Hope he brings it tonight,” Caleb says, shaking his head. “That band wasn’t so bad.”
“You’re into the One Direction sound now, hmm?” Gracie teases.
“That shit went a lot harder than 1D,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Besides, I happen to like Harry Styles. That fucker does whatever he wants and no one judges him for it.”
“Are you serious?” I ask him, shocked. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a guy admit he likes Harry Styles. Not even Jackson, and he appreciates all kinds of music. Even boy bands.
“Sure. Why not? He sings and girls drop at his feet. They lose their fucking minds over that guy. To have that kind of power…” His voice shifts and he shakes his head. “Must be mind-blowing.”
“Ask your friend. I’m sure he knows all about it,” Gracie says, her gaze immediately going to mine. “Oops, I didn’t mean anything by—”
“No, it’s okay. Jackson does have a pretty big fan club,” I reassure her.
“Yeah, but you’re still his number one fangirl, right?” Gracie’s brows shoot up.
I slowly shake my head. “I don’t think so. Not anymore.”
And that makes me sad. Worse, it kind of hurts. It’s for the best though. I need to move on.
I have to.
We all chat while we wait for Jackson’s performance. It’s so hot in here, I’m sweating. Thank god I put my hair up in a high ponytail and am only wearing a cute camisole I bought at the end of summer. The straps are thin, as is the fabric, showing off plenty of skin. I wish I would’ve worn shorts because these jeans are confining, but whatever. Ava and I were going for a look, and we sort of match, like we’re still in middle school.
It was fun, getting ready with her earlier. Like old times.
The music stops. The lights shut off, and the crowd goes silent while we wait. I’m breathless, knowing what’s about to happen, but still excited over it anyway.
This is what Jackson does to me.
A single spotlight clicks on, shining on the stage, and there he is. Sitting in his ornate throne, his guitar in his lap, wearing jeans and a black tank. He leans in close to the mic, flicking his head to get the strands of his long blond hair out of his face. “Good evening. I’m Jackson Rivers.”
The crowd goes wild. Including me.
He launches into a song that is vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place it. He usually kicks off every performance with a cover song, and it’s normally Nirvana.
But this isn’t Nirvana. I’m not sure who it is, but I can’t help swaying to the beat, letting it take over my body. Jackson’s voice wraps all around me, his fingers plucking the guitar strings nimbly, creating a bluesy sound. It dawns on me who the song reminds me of. I’m not a huge John Mayer fan, though my mom used to be, but the song has a Mayer feel and I’m thinking that’s who it is.
Hmm. Not what I would consider Jackson’s normal style, but I’m digging it.
