APRIL
I can't stop having sex with Jackson.
Clearly, he can't stop having sex with me, either.
It's like once we started, it's impossible to think about anything else. He'll be doing the most mundane thing and I'll be thinking about how he feels inside me. Just last night, he was washing dishes at the sink with my mom and I was standing at the island, watching his back muscles move under his shirt.
I think I really am sick in the head. I've never thought like this before. I've never been boy crazy.
But now I am crazy over one boy. This boy never leaves my mind, or my bed at night. We haven't slept a night apart in I can't remember how long. Even though it's Thanksgiving break and we're still at my parents' house, we've snuck into each other's rooms every night.
On Saturday morning, today, everyone is allowed to sleep in. It's the one day out of the whole week that Dad doesn't make us get up for chores, and I relish it by locking my door - something we're technically not supposed to do - and slowly running my fingers down Jackson's bare chest.
With the sun shining in from the far window, he barely looks real. His skin is clear and gorgeous, sticky with just a bit of sweat from being so close to me all night. I like it, though. And, not unusually, he's completely naked. So am I. And I don't feel exposed or uncomfortable at all. I don't even feel scared that my family might to catch us, because I'm so purely blissed out.
"Jackson…" I whisper, scooting closer to him and throwing one leg over both of his. "Wake up, city boy."
His lips twitch, and I smile because of it. I skim my hand over his belly to rest low on his hips, pulling at his body to jostle him a bit. "Go back to bed," he grumbles. "Thought you said we could sleep in today."
"We did," I say. "It's almost 8."
He laughs. "That's not sleeping in."
I plunk my chin down on his collarbone and accidentally-on-purpose graze my fingers over his half-hard erection. "I don't wanna sleep..." I murmur. His eyes open slowly and I break out in a huge grin when they land on me. "Hi," I whisper excitedly.
"Morning," he says, tightening his arm around my waist to pull me in. He ends up getting me on top of him, which I don't fight, and I sit on his stomach with my hands flat on his chest. "What a way to wake up," he says, dragging his fingernails up my sides.
I shiver beneath his touch and bend at the waist, angling my mouth against his. I kiss him, slow and heated, and he buries his fingers deep into my hair to grip the base of my skull.
I knead his shoulders as I feel his tongue in my mouth, then pull away with his lower lip popping from between my teeth when I get far enough away. His hands unbury themselves from my hair and find my waist again, fingers reaching around to the small of my back where they land on the dimples there.
I clench my thighs around his waist and rock my hips back and forth a little bit, hinting and teasing at the same time. It's not hard to figure out what I want. It's what I always want. He's no different, either. We've come to depend on each other so heavily to feel good. I find that I'm the happiest when I'm around him - no matter what we're doing. But right now, sex is so new and so gratifying. I have no desire to try and control myself.
"Do you wanna?" I ask, a little breathless. My eyes dart to my nightstand drawer, where we both know the condoms are tucked. I pull my lower lip into my mouth and know his answer already. He doesn't have to give me one verbally - he's reaching for the drawer just seconds after I speak.
I start to lift my leg off of him so I can lay down, but he keeps me where I am. "I want you right there," he says, fingers gripping me tight. I can feel the square foil of the condom wrapper pressed against my side, under his palm.
"Here?" I ask, as if it's so outrageous. "Me, on top?"
He nods, reaching around me to roll the condom on. He doesn't even need to watch himself do it, he's that practiced. We've been especially busy.
"Yeah," he says.
I let a short huff of breath from my nose. "But I don't know how," I claim.
"Here," he says, and solidifies his grip on my hips so he can lift me up a little bit. "Lower down on it. This way, you control everything. How deep you go, how much you move, everything. And," he says, with a grin. "I can see so much of you."
"You want that?" I ask, reaching back to place my hands on his thighs.
"Of course I do," he says, thumbs on the points of my hipbones.
"Okay," I say. "I'll try. But you have to help me."
"Gladly," he says, eyes flashing at me as I adjust my legs so I'm hovering right over him. When his tip touches my entrance, we make eye contact and break into matching smiles, and I slowly lower myself down until he's filling me up all the way. "Fuck," he breathes, and my eyes roll back from the feeling.
My thigh muscles are tense at first, but not when Jackson kneads them with his fingers and turns me to putty in his hands. I widen them and take him even deeper, which makes his hips snap up and his fingers press deeper into my waist.
As my eyes are closed, he swivels my hips side to side and makes me lose my breath. "There you go…" he says, ghosting my movements until I take control of them myself. "God, that feels good. You. You feel so amazing."
"So do you," I say, leaning forward with my hands near his neck. I press wet, open-mouthed kisses to his chin, jaw, and sternum, and keep rolling my hips as his lift to meet them.
He slips his hand between us and deftly presses his thumb to those nerves that light me up inside. I can't help the scream that comes out of my mouth, and we both freeze after it sounds through the air. I hear a thump from downstairs, then quick footsteps heading towards the stairs.
"No, no, no, no," I say, hands lightly smacking his stomach. As I'm freaking out, he's still inside me and I'm so, so close to coming. But I know those footsteps - those are worried mom footsteps. She heard my scream and she's coming up; I hear her walking on the stairs now. "You need to hide," I tell him, and lift my leg over him so I pull off in one fluid motion. I yank open my top drawer of clothes that I didn't bring to DePaul and throw on an old, ratty nightgown, and Jackson disappears into my closet as fast as he can. The doors have just stopped rattling when Mom comes through the door that I very quickly unlocked.
"April?" she says, peeking her head in.
I hope she can't tell that I was just having sex. What does that even look like? I smooth my hair down, but hope that she'll chalk its messiness up to the fact that I just woke up.
I can practically still feel him between my legs. Can she tell?
"Are you okay?" she continues. "I heard a scream."
"I, um, yeah," I say, switching my weight from foot to foot. "I bumped my head, this drawer was open." I gesture to the drawer I'd just been digging in. "Didn't see it and it hurt."
"Oh, I bet," Mom says. "I was just checking, just a little worried."
I force a smile and say, "Yeah."
"Come down for breakfast soon," she says. "Everyone else is awake."
"We- I will," I say, folding my hands at my waist. "I'm just gonna get myself together."
"Okay," she says, smiling sweetly before leaving.
Once the door is closed and her footsteps disappear into soundlessness, I relock my room and yank open my closet.
"Oh my gosh," I say, eyebrows up and a disbelieving smile on my face. "Oh my gosh."
Jackson is half-hidden behind my old dresses that I stopped wearing in middle school; a bunch of faded blues, pinks and purples are looking back at me. The look on his face is hilarious - he'd been as still as a statue, but now he cracks up laughing.
"You are such a sneak!" he says, unwinding himself from all the clothes. He's still completely naked, so I waste no time in trailing my hands down the muscles of his back as he walks towards my bed.
"What, did you want me to let her walk in on us?" I ask, playing with him.
He turns around, a devilish look in his eyes. "You…" he begins.
"Me, what?" I ask, smiling with my top teeth over my lower lip.
"I just wanna…" he says, grinning as he shakes his head.
"What?" I prompt, still giggly.
He wraps his arms around my waist and gets us both back down on the mattress, this time his body over mine. "Where was I?" he asks.
"We gotta be down for breakfast soon," I say, fingertips dancing over his collarbones. "So can you be on top, please?"
He rolls his eyes, yanking up the skirt of the nightgown I'd thrown on so haphazardly. "So lazy," he says.
I smack his chest. "Hey."
He chuckles and bends to kiss my neck, but the frilly collar gets in his way. "Jesus," he says, lifting back up. "What, is this thing from like, the 1800s or something?"
I giggle. "What? I used to wear it every night."
"When you were aboard the Mayflower?" he says, hitching the skirt up even higher. "Or when you were Amish? Because those are the only two reasons you could ever wear this thing."
"So take it off me, then," I say, wiggling my hips.
"Gladly," he says, and pulls it off after I lift my arms over my head. "Much better." He presses quick kisses to my sternum, under which my heart is pumping like crazy with excitement. He drags his lips over the swell of my breast and then lower to my nipple, where he opens his mouth wide and sucks hard.
"Mm," I whimper, a little desperately. My heartbeat is now situated tight between my legs, throbbing insistently. "Not that I don't love this, but we don't have a lot of time to…"
"Got it," he says, mouth moving wetly against my skin. "Let me get a new condom."
He reaches over me, grabs a new one, then comes back to roll it on. I watch his fingers pull it over his erection and find my hips lifting to welcome him, and I know he notices too.
"I'll get there," he says, holding the side of my thigh with one hand. "Patience is a virtue."
I laugh breathlessly. "Don't talk to me about virtues right now," I say.
He looks at me slyly.
"You good?" he asks a few moments later, making steady eye contact. I nod quickly and widen my thighs, and arch my neck when he pushes inside me.
"Oh, god," I moan, lifting my arms to rest above my head on the pillow. "Go deeper. I can take you deeper."
He makes a strained sound that turns me on even more, and I force my eyes open to look at him. He has his lower lip pulled into his mouth and his hips snap seemingly involuntarily, and that makes my back scoot up a little on the mattress.
When we find a rhythm, I tell myself that I have to be quiet when I come. I know I'm not going to want to, and I know for a fact that when it happens, I won't even be in my own mind. I won't be thinking about anything but the sparks lighting up my body like fireworks. So I tell myself now. You can't scream.
"You can't scream," Jackson murmurs, lips against the shell of my ear.
"I know," I breathe.
"Little hard when the guy you're banging is so amazing, huh?" he says.
"Don't say 'banging,'" I say with a slight smile. "You sound 12."
"Yeah, 12 inches," he says, and I screw up my lips to keep from laughing.
He keeps pumping into me, and it feels better with each thrust. I keep getting close to the edge, then he pulls me away from it. It takes me a while to realize that he's doing it on purpose.
"I told you we don't have much time," I say, widening my eyes for effect.
"Oh," he says. "You want me to make you come?"
I give him a deadpan look.
"Well, that can be done," he says, making heady eye contact with me as he wets his first two fingers with his tongue. "Because I happen to be the only guy in the world who knows how to give you the best orgasm you've ever…" He slips those fingers inside of me and curls them upwards, which makes my mouth fall open and my feet flex. "Had," he finishes.
My body twists underneath him as it happens, and he opens his mouth against mine to absorb any sound I might make. As I'm still coming, I feel his body moving erratically overtop of mine and know that he is, too. Thank god. I love it when he comes while my orgasm is still happening. It makes me feel so connected to him.
After it's over, we lie shoulder-to-shoulder, all sweaty. Our chests are heaving and I still feel all the blood centered between my legs - hot and wanting. But I know I can't have any more of him. We have to get downstairs before things start to look even more suspicious than they already do.
We stagger our entrances. I go down first and tell Jackson to wait ten minutes. When I get into the kitchen, my sisters are milling about quietly, which is unusual for them.
"Hey guys," I say. "Where's Mom?"
Libby glances over at me with a plate of toast in her hands. "Ran to Meijer," she says. "We're out of pads."
"Who needs pads?" I ask. Something incredibly weird about me and my sisters is that our cycles are all synced up. Alice was the last, obviously, but hers came earlier this year and it linked up with the rest of ours right away. Mom, too. Even when I went away to school, the scheduling didn't change. "It's not that time yet."
Kimmie narrows her eyes at me. "Yes, it is, genius," she says. "I'm having cramps like, so bad."
I flit my eyes to the calendar. "It can't be the-" My eyes land at the end of all the marked-off Xs. "The 26th. It's the 26th."
"You didn't get yours?" Alice asks, sounding concerned.
"No, n-no," I say, hands suddenly trembling. I force them together to stop the movement. "I did. I just have pads, that's all. Someone should've asked to borrow some. Someone just… should've asked." My mouth is dry. My tongue feels like a big cotton ball sitting in the middle of all my teeth. Something is wrong. Something is really wrong. I am a clock. I am never late.
But I am late. Four days after Jackson and I had pull-out sex, I'm late.
"Morning, everybody," he says, right on cue. I glance over at him, feeling my breath come in shallow bursts. I feel like everyone in this room must know. He loops an arm around my shoulder comfortably, his body warmth radiating onto me. "Mornin', pretty piano girl."
"Hi," I peep, chewing the inside of my cheek.
"You okay?" he asks, turning his head to check. I can tell by his change of tone that he's concerned.
I feel cornered. I don't know what to do. I lift my eyes from the floor to see that Libby's staring at me, and I know she's the one I need to talk to. And by the look on her face, it seems like she's already halfway to knowing.
I'm pregnant. I have to be. There's no way I'm not.
I wet my chapped lips and grit my teeth together, willing my period to come instantly. It's almost like I'm trying to push it out, if that were possible.
Standing here in the kitchen, I can't imagine myself having a baby.
"Mama…" I hear Liam say, in the recesses of my mind. He comes stumbling in from the other room, blanket trailing behind him as he rubs his eyes.
I'm imagining a little biracial child in his wake, calling me mama. I think my throat closes up.
"April," Jackson's voice brings me back to earth. "I asked, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I spit out. "I-I just… hungry. I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" I walk to the pantry and pull out a cereal box, which results in about four more boxes tumbling to the floor and spilling all over. "Since when do we have so much cereal?" I ask, laughing nervously. Everyone thinks I'm crazy, I can tell by their faces.
"Duckie, do you need to sit down?" Libby asks, hoisting Liam up on her hip.
I'm going to be a mom at 18. Well, 19, presumably. I'll have turned 19 by the time the baby is born. I'll have to quit college and move back home. Jackson won't want to move with me, and I'd never make him. I'm never going to be a professional vocal music teacher. I'm going to be a mom at 19 with a baby on my hip, staring out at the world from this front porch that I will never leave.
"I'm fine, I said," I say, leaning forward with my hands on the kitchen counter. I feel Jackson's tentative touch on my lower back, and I let it stay.
"Are you gonna clean up your spill?" Alice asks. "Mom will get-"
"I'm getting there!" I snap. I feel like my world is closing in on me. I feel like I have to make every decision right now.
"Geez, okay," Alice says. "I was just asking. I'm not gonna help you now."
"I didn't ask you to," I say, taking in a big breath. I clean up the spill and still feel Jackson's eyes on me. "Do you want something to eat?" I ask him.
"Whatever you're having," he says.
"I'm not hungry."
He eyes me. "You just said you were."
"I…" I close my mouth. "I'm not anymore."
"I can get my own," he says, unwinding the package of bread. "You can go sit. You seem off. Just… breathe for a sec."
"I am breathing," I say, narrowing my eyes. But I follow his advice and walk towards the table. Just as I'm about to sit, though, Libby grabs me by the elbow and ushers me into the downstairs bathroom.
"God!" I say, after she's shut and locked the door.
"You don't have your period," she states, plain as day.
My eyes dart everywhere around the room. Landing on the framed lighthouse picture by the sink, the blue and white patterned hand towels, the hairdryer left out on the white countertop.
"Do you?" she prompts.
I shake my head. My eyes grow hot and tears well up in them, but I wipe them away quickly before they can slide all the way down my cheeks.
"Damn it…" she hisses, one hand to her forehead. She knows how much like clockwork we Kepners are. It's a running joke in our family. The fact that I didn't get my period on the same day as everyone else is a very big deal. "God damn it."
"I didn't… I thought we…" I stammer, throat growing tight. "He pulled out! That first night, Libby, I swear. He pulled out. It was all over my…" I cut myself off and absentmindedly gesture to my stomach, where a baby is probably growing right now. "None went in. It didn't. I swear. I don't know how…"
She's shaking her head. Slow at first, then faster. "You know what they call people who have pull-out sex?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.
"What?"
"Parents," she says, jutting her chin out. "April…" she begins, but doesn't finish. She just keeps shaking her head.
"I know!" I say. "I know! You're just making me feel worse, I'm sorry!"
"No, stop," she says. "You don't need to say… we don't even know for sure. We need to get a test. A good one, from Walgreen's."
I stand across from her for a minute, silent. Just staring down at the blue rugs.
"What?" she asks.
"I have to tell him," I say.
"No," she says insistently. "Not until we know for sure."
"He deserves to know," I argue.
"What, so he can freak out over nothing if it turns out to be negative?" she tosses back.
"I'm not gonna lie to him," I say. "I want to tell him. He's my best friend. I think he should know."
Libby lets out a long sigh. One of the sighs where she wants to make it clear that she thinks I'm wrong. But my stubbornness is stronger than my sister's, so I push past her and walk out of the bathroom and back into the kitchen.
"Jackson," I say, and I realize that my knees are wobbling. "I, uh… I need to talk to you. Really bad. Can you… can you just come here, please? Please, to the bathroom?"
All of my sisters are watching us. This couldn't have waited, though. I couldn't sit there and eat breakfast with him like I might not be carrying his child inside me.
"Uh, okay," he says, pushing back his chair. "What's up?"
"Come with me," I say, pulling him by the wrist. I shut the bathroom door and lock it behind us just as Libby had, and just stare at him with wide, glassy eyes for a moment.
"Dude, April, what?" he says. "You're freaking me out. Like, a lot."
"Makes two of us," I say, wringing my hands. "I… I don't know how to say this. I don't. I didn't think this would ever be me, I thought I was gonna be the one to get out and do more than this… I guess I don't even know for sure yet, but I kind of do. I basically do. I-"
"Can you stop not making sense?" he says, sounding fed-up. "I have no idea what you're talking about right now."
I let out a long, shaky sigh. "My family works like clockwork. My period is never late. And… I am. I'm late. I didn't get it today, which makes me officially late. That's never happened. My body doesn't work like that. Jackson… I … we…" I chew on my lip. "I think I'm pregnant." I barely let the words sink in before I start spewing again. "If I am, I mean, I probably am, I'm gonna keep it. I don't believe in abortion, my family would kill me and I could never live with myself… I don't know, adoption could be a thing I think about, but I don't think that would sit right with me, either. Knowing my kid is out there and I'm not their mother. I don't think I could do it. I think I'd think about it obsessively. And obviously I don't expect anything from you, either. This wasn't even supposed to be a thing, you know, us. But then it got so real, and you came here to meet my family, and we keep having sex. It turned into this whole, big… I don't know, thing. But I don't expect you to stay or… or be with me or anything like that. You can even pretend that we never-"
"I'm in," he says, cutting me off.
I screw up my eyebrows, totally confused. "Wh… what?"
"I'm in. All the way," he continues. "I know it might not be what you planned, or-or how you planned it. But we can do this. We'll be together. Have an awesome kid, be amazing parents, I'm in."
I feel like I could fall to the floor. I have to hold onto the sink so I won't. "D-don't say that if you don't mean it," I say, my voice very weak.
"I mean it," he says. "We can do this."
My chest starts to feel lighter. There's something blossoming inside it now, something fluttery and free. It makes me feel hopeful, even in this most unhopeful of circumstances.
"You really think that-"
"You said it yourself," he says. "You meet one person, and your life is changed forever."
My mouth is hanging open. I can't believe any of this. It can't be real. He can't be serious. He feels put on the spot, he feels like he has to say this. He can't really feel this way. "So you… you really want this?" I ask clarifying.
He takes a few confident steps towards me. "I want this," he says, solidifying it. "We… we can do this. Me and you, we're strong and capable people. Yeah, we're young, but… so what? People used to do it younger. We're old, compared to the pilgrim days. And you with your nightgown, you got that pilgrim stuff in the bag already. We… we'll get an apartment, we'll both go to school half time. We'll raise our kid and be badass educated students at the same time. We got this."
I stare at him while still in shock. "Oh, my god…" I breathe, and hold his face. We kiss for a long time, and he wraps his arms around the small of my back and lifts me slightly off the tiled bathroom floor. When we pull apart, I keep my hands on his face and my eyes locked on his. "Are we really…" I say, a smile wide on my face before it drops completely. "Are you sure we can do this?" I ask, my hands on the sides of his neck now.
As my thumbs stroke his skin, he says - quietly and surely, "We can do this."
We blink at each other, then I break into a huge grin and kiss him again. He holds the back of my head with one hand and I let him lift me high off the ground, smiling so hard that he ends up pressing his lips to my teeth. I pull his bottom lip into my mouth and feel my heart flopping around in my chest; this can't really be happening to me. It can't. I don't even know what to think.
When we pull apart, tears are streaming down my cheeks. I can't put my finger on a specific reason why I'm crying - there are way too many. I wipe them away hastily and take a big breath in, and Jackson fixes a piece of my hair. He looks at me for a long time, his eyes steady into mine, and I place my hands flat on his chest.
"I have to find out for sure," I say. "Libby's gonna take me to Walgreen's. Do you mind… staying here?"
I can't take the test with him around. I know I won't be able to do it. I'll probably launch into full-panic mode.
"It's not anything against you," I say. "I-I'd want you to come. But she offered. And she knows how I get when I freak out, and I don't want you to have to be around-"
"If you wanna just go with your sister, that's fine," he says. "I'll hang out here with the other two."
I nod shakily. "Okay," I say. "Thank… thank you."
Libby and I communicate in code around Alice and Kimmie, and she asks them if they can watch Liam while we go run an errand. "Where're you going?" Alice asks, drifting to the front door to follow us as we put on our shoes.
"To the store real quick," Libby says, standing up after tying her laces.
"But Mom's already there," Alice says.
"Different store," I say.
"For what?"
"Duckie's hairbrush broke," Libby says. "We're going to get her a new one."
"I have an extra-" Kimmie begins.
"Hey, can someone come and show me the horses?" Jackson cuts in. "I haven't seen them yet."
"Oh, we can!" Alice and Kimmie chorus, and I shoot Jackson a thankful look across the foyer.
When Libby and I are in her car on the way to Walgreen's, it's quiet at first, but the silence is loaded with things begging to be said. Growing up, we were never the closest. There's an age gap that's just big enough, and when I would try and tag along with her friends, she'd hate it. So I took to playing with Kimmie and Alice. But now, sitting in this little Ford Fusion with her, there's not anyone else I'd rather be with. I look over at her and see a calm, focused expression on her face as her hands grip the wheel right where they should. I feel safe with her. She's my big sister, so of course I do. But right now, the feeling is extra strong.
She sighs softly at a red light and glances over at me. "Duck, how did this happen?" she asks, no malicious tone in her voice.
I let a long pause pass. "I mean, you already know," I say.
She shakes her head and glances at the light to see if it's changed. It hasn't. "No, not… that," she says. "You and Jackson. The whole relationship. You just told us about it out of thin air. We never heard about you meeting him, crushing on him, nothing. It just seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and I've been meaning to ask you about it."
My gut clenches as I wonder if I should tell her. Like, really tell her everything. I take my time in piecing together the words I want, and decide that I don't want to build another lie.
"We're not together in the most… conventional of ways," I say.
"I didn't think so."
She presses her foot to the gas and we start moving again.
"In the beginning, he was more of a way for me to get to someone else," I finally admit, staring down at the clean floor mat under my pink tennis shoes.
"What do you mean?"
I scratch my cheek with one fingernail. "I wanted this boy named Alex to notice me, and Jackson wanted his music theory papers written. So we made a deal, really early in the quarter. He'd pretend to date me to make Alex jealous, and I'd write his big papers." I wait for her to say something - to judge me, scold me, anything. But she stays quiet. "And it actually worked, for a little while. Alex noticed me, and I felt good about it because Jackson has taught me… a lot." I decide not to get into the details on that one. "But Alex was a douche. And Jackson even told me that… but I didn't listen. It didn't work out with Alex. I can't even imagine where I'd be right now if it did…" I shudder a little. "But after that kinda crumbled, we just didn't stop. And…" I glance over at my sister's profile as she watches the road. "Now I'm not sure what we're doing."
"Having a whole lot of sex," Libby says, eyebrows raised.
I snort softly. "Well, yeah."
We pull into the Walgreen's parking lot and park, but she doesn't shut the car off or unbuckle yet. "Do you have feelings for him?" she asks.
That's the question I'd been afraid of, and she laid it right out there. Stripped and bare. No frills or sugarcoating.
"I…" I stammer, and start picturing him while he sits next to me on the piano bench, mirroring my movements with his eyes cemented on me. I picture him on the soccer field, beaming up at me while I cheer in the stands. I picture him outside in the barn at night, telling me that his home depends on a person. And something within me tells me that that person he was talking about… is me. "I think I do," I say.
I feel like I've been shoved backwards. This is the first time I've truly admitted it to myself, let alone said it out loud.
I press my lips together as I shake my head. "But it wasn't supposed to happen like this," I say. "We made an agreement in the beginning of it all. That we couldn't fall in love with each other. And…" I sigh. "I think I've gone and broken it. I ruined it." Libby chuckles knowingly, so I snap my head over to her a little defensively. "What?" I snap.
"I'm not laughing at you," she says. "Well, I kind of am. God, April. You must be really blind."
"What are you talking about?" I ask, feeling my face grow hot.
"That boy sat through a Kepner Thanksgiving," she begins. "It was admirable when I thought you two were legitimately dating. But now, knowing that he did that while you're not even officially a thing?" She blows air out from between her lips. "He loves you, April."
I grip the armrest tight in my fingers. "What?" I say. "No, he doesn't."
Libby nods vigorously, eyes wide. "Yes, he does," she says. "He's not faking any of it. You're not the only one who broke your silly little agreement."
"I… I…" I say, unable to get any words out. I've thought about it, sure, that Jackson's feelings might be real, too. But I told myself to stop dreaming. That there's no way that they could be. But after his little speech to me in the bathroom, I'm starting to realize that maybe Libby is right.
"The way he looks at you," Libby says, her voice soft. "Is just… wow. He always makes sure you're okay before anything else. He looks for you. When he walks in a room, he looks for you. And when he sees you… his eyes. They light up. You gravitate to each other like magnets." She nods, solidifying her words. "Nothing about what he's doing is fake, Duckie."
My mouth is dry as I clasp my hands together. "You really think so?"
She unbuckles her seatbelt. "I know so."
As we sit in the Walgreen's bathroom ten minutes later with the test, trying not to look at it as it loads on the sink, I feel like I might throw up. I still don't have my period. I've been feeling so tired lately, and I know that's a symptom of pregnancy. I've convinced myself that I am, that I have to be.
But Jackson said he's in it with me. He's not going to leave me hanging to take care of this baby on my own.
"Do you think it's ready?" I ask Libby, after a much longer time than we needed has passed.
"Probably," she says. "You ready?"
I'm picturing the empty crib in the attic, the one that Alice had used and that Liam just grew out of. Will we have to get it back down soon for my baby, after Dad had just put it back up there? How will I tell my parents? Oh, god, how will I tell my parents?
"You look," I say. "I can't do it."
She nods slightly and takes the test off the sink. I watch her glance down at it, then back up at me. She shakes her head almost minutely and says, "You're not."
My stomach drops and relief floods my body. My mouth gapes open and a disbelieving breath escapes me as I fumble to look at the results for myself. "I'm not," I breathe.
That crib will stay empty.
I burst out of the car when we pull back up into the driveway and see Jackson on the porch, swinging calmly. I clamber up the front steps and he stands, anticipating my answer, and I throw myself at him with my arms around his neck.
"Negative," I say, my nose pressed against his. I've never felt such pure relief in my life. "Negative."
"For real?" he says, looking hopeful.
I nod, lips pressed together in a bright smile. "We don't have to quit school," I say. "We can go back and… and be bothered by Addie and Amelia and Mark and… and take our class together next quarter that we signed up for, and I can still watch your soccer games and teach you piano and nothing has to change." He spins me around and gives me a big kiss.
"You're not pregnant," he says.
I shake my head as the words sink in. I am not pregnant. I thank God over and over again, for giving me this second chance. Now I can live my young adult life with no worries or ties holding me back, holding us back.
"And nothing has to change now," he says.
"Yes," I say, as he sets me back down. "Everything's gonna be okay."
That night is Jackson's last night with us in Moline. I'll stay, because DePaul's break lasts all the way until January - Thanksgiving and Christmas are combined, and Jackson is heading to Boston in the morning.
"I don't want you to go," I say, framing his face with my hands. It's late - almost 2am - and we've already had sex. Now, we're lying tangled up in one another, under the covers. I want to memorize him so I have something to hold onto while we're apart.
"I don't want to, either," he says. "I'm gonna miss you."
I pout my lower lip out a bit. "I know," I say, then give him a kiss. "Don't go."
"My mom would kill me," he says, chuckling softly.
"Who will play with my hair when you go?" I ask, taking his wrist and setting it on my head. He gets the hint and starts weaving his fingers through it, combing it back from my face.
He smiles again. "Oh god, what will you do?"
I scoot closer, if possible. "Die," I say.
"Don't do that," he says. "I don't wanna live in this world without you."
His words hit me hard as I remember what Libby and I talked about in the car earlier. I chew on my bottom lip as I decide whether or not to bring it up, and feel him tug my lip out from my teeth and run his thumb over it.
"Have I ever told you that I love your lips?" he asks, kissing me. When we pull apart, I stare into his eyes and work up all the gumption I've ever had. "What is it?" he says, noticing my expression and silence. "You're freaking me out."
"Jackson," I breathe, and my voice shakes. "Remember how earlier we said that nothing has to change?" He nods. I'm quiet for a long time before saying, "I think I want it to."
He squints a bit with confusion. "What?"
I clear my throat. "I have feelings for you," I state. My hands are trembling as they softly run over his neck. "Real ones. Big ones. And… I think you have feelings for me, too. Do you?"
I can't believe I just said that out loud. What if he says no? What if he doesn't want this?
His face breaks out in a grin. "I… yes," he says.
"You do?" I ask, in disbelief.
"Of course I do," he says. "I just didn't think you wanted… I didn't think you'd… I don't know. I didn't want to ruin anything. I didn't want to make you feel weird."
I kiss him over and over again, holding his face between my hands and then rolling over so my body is on top of his. He wraps his arms tight around the small of my back and holds me there, and when we break apart from our kiss, we spend a second just smiling into each other's faces like idiots.
"Can we date?" I ask. "For real?"
"April," he says, trailing his fingernails up my spine. "I just have a question."
A crease appears on my forehead. "What is it?"
He chuckles at himself and opens his mouth over mine, giving me a heady kiss that I lean heavily into. When he pulls away, he tucks my hair behind one ear and whispers, "Will you be my girlfriend?"
My heart feels like it's going to flutter out of my chest. I smooth my fingers over his hair and kiss his face everywhere I can reach, and he laughs as I do so. "Of course," I say. "Of course I will."