Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1)

by Brittney Musick

  “Do you want to play with us?” Chloe offered.

  Jordan smirked. “I think Jackson wants to play with her right now.”

  “Jordan Nicholas!” Siobhan scolded, her features taking on that familiar, universal “Mom” look.

  Jordan smiled innocently, but Siobhan wasn’t swayed by his attempts to charm her. “Go into the living room,” she directed, pointing back down the hallway.

  Jordan pouted but didn’t argue.

  “Why don’t we go pick out a movie, Jimmy?” Siobhan suggested to her husband. Jackson’s dad, who had been skimming through a magazine about radios, sat the magazine down and nodded.

  He smiled at as he passed by Jackson and I to follow his wife down the hall to the living room.

  Eric stood from the table and walked over to us. “So, you’re the girl Jackson is always talking about, huh?” Some of the seriousness disappeared from his face as he spoke.

  I could tell his teasing wasn’t malicious, but I still blushed. I glanced up at Jackson, raising an eyebrow as his eyes met mine. Then I turned back to Eric. “I don’t know, am I?”

  Eric chuckled, and Jackson instructed me to ignore his brother as he put his hands on my shoulders, sending a jolt through me. He turned me toward the hallway and gave me a light push forward. Uncertain where I was going, I glanced over my shoulder, and I caught Jackson, very maturely, stick his tongue out at Eric before mouthing something I’m sure his mother wouldn’t approve of.

  He blushed when he realized I’d saw him, but he didn’t say anything as he guided me midway down the hallway to a closed door. He reached around me, pulling the door open to reveal a set of stairs.

  I looked up at him, curious, and he explained, “My room’s down there.”

  He flipped a switch, bathing the stairs in light, and gestured for me to go ahead. I held onto the banister as I made my way down the stairs. “Isn’t it weird?” I asked over my shoulder. “Living in the basement, I mean?”

  “Maybe a little,” Jackson chuckled, “but it’s quieter down here.”

  When I reached the bottom of the staircase, Jackson flipped another light switch, revealing a large, open room. He stepped around me further into the room as I took it in, much the same way Jackson had when he entered my room for the first time.

  It seemed to be divided into two distinct spaces. One area had an entertainment center, fitted out with a television and stereo and a couple of secondhand recliners and a couch that had seen better days.

  The other space was Jackson’s sleeping area, and it looked much like a typical guy’s room. His bed was tucked back, hidden behind the stairs. It was large and messy, with blankets shoved to the end of the bed. He had a couple of dressers with the tops filled untidily with various items. There were also posters scattered around the room. Most of them were movies, and I guessed Jackson got them from work.

  He also had a huge corner desk. His laptop sat closed in the middle, and there were papers scattered all around as well as a box of Prism pencils, which I knew Skylar preferred to use when drawing. I was curious to see if any of the papers were more of Jackson’s drawings, but I didn’t want to be nosy and just start investigating.

  There were a few items scattered across the floor, like shoes and articles of clothing, but it was neither terribly messy nor too clean. It mostly looked comfortable and lived in.

  “I like your room,” I said, turning to Jackson who had wondered off toward the couch.

  He smiled, seeming relieved, as if he’d actually been worried about what I thought of his living space. “Thanks.”

  I smiled back, biting my lip. I glanced down at my hands, where I was still clutching his gift, and realized I should maybe give it to him. I crossed the room toward him, stopping a couple of feet away. “Here’s your present.” I held it out to him.

  “Cool.” His eyes lit with excitement, and he grinned. “Thanks.”

  What is it about teenage boys and presents? I wondered.

  He stepped the couple of feet necessary and sat down on the couch. I had to take twice as many steps to get to the couch, but I remained standing as he unwrapped the present.

  Once he tore the paper away, he took a second to look over the cover. I was sure he was trying to wrap his head around the non-green cover of The Perks of Being A Wallflower. “Wow,” he finally said, “I’ve never seen this cover before.”

  “It’s an import,” I explained as he brushed his hand over the gray cover. I bit my lip as I came to sit beside him on the couch.

  “Really?” he glanced over me, looking both surprised and impressed.

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “I tried to find a signed copy. I looked on eBay and everything, but no luck.”

  “Thanks for the thought,” he grinned, “but this is really awesome, signed or not.” He turned the book over to the study the back. “To be honest, I’m surprised you didn’t keep it for yourself since it’s your favorite book.”

  “I considered it,” I confessed with a grin. “But I wanted you to have it.”

  “Well, thank you.” Jackson met my eyes and smiled. Then he looked away, his cheeks tinted pink. “I never told you, but this is probably the first book I ever read purely for enjoyment.”

  “Really?” Jackson seemed to read just as much as I did, so I couldn’t quite curb my surprise at his confession.

  “Yeah,” he nodded, flipping through the book. “I had a hard time with reading when I was younger. I had a hell of a time with schoolwork. I guess for whatever reason, reading just didn’t quite take for me as quickly as everyone else. I mostly passed each grade by the skin of my teeth.”

  From the way his shoulders were hunched and the fact that he wasn’t looking at me, I could tell he was embarrassed.

  “So what changed?”

  “My mom got me a tutor.” Jackson shrugged, trying to be casual but I could tell he was still uncomfortable talking about it. “I was so mad at first, but once my tutor figured out that reading was a huge part of my problem, we kind of went back to basics.”

  I thought he was going to leave it at that, but he sighed and went on. “I felt really stupid at first because she made me read kids books, like stuff we were supposed to be reading in kindergarten, you know?”

  He glanced at me, and I nodded.

  “But it worked. Once words started making more sense, homework got easier and my grades started to improve. Then my tutor suggested I read some books on my own. For fun, she said, and at first I thought she must be crazy because I still didn’t find anything fun about reading.” He paused, chuckling slightly.

  “But one day she was late to meet me at the library—that was where we met—and I saw Perks and started browsing through it. It was easy to read, and I was halfway through the book before my tutor showed up for our session.”

  “And you understood what she meant about reading for fun?” I guessed.

  “Yeah,” he smiled softly.

  “I’m glad.” The selfish part of me was happy he’d picked up The Perks of Being a Wallflower since it was the catalyst for our first conversation, but the better part of me was just happy Jackson was able to push through his reading difficulties.

  Because I was sure Jackson was embarrassed enough—though he needn’t be—I decided to change the subject. “Thank you for my presents,” I said. “I really loved the mix CD, and the artwork was amazing.”

  “I’m glad you liked it,” Jackson whispered, tilting his head to meet my eyes. His cheeks were still stained a light pink. I hadn’t realized he was so modest.

  “Loved it,” I corrected. “You’re a really good artist.”

  Jackson combed his hair back away from his eyes as he mumbled, “Thanks.”

  I realized I wasn’t doing a very good job at making him feel less embarrassed, and I was sure he was waiting for me to bring up his note. I was regretting not thinking this through before coming over. Finding the words to articulate what his words meant to me and how I felt for him seemed harder than it should
have, considering I always seemed to have something to say.

  I finally settled on saying, “I’m glad you decided to quit smoking.” That earned me a small smile, but Jackson didn’t say anything, so I pressed on. “How’s that going so far?”

  “Well, it’s on,” Jackson shrugged, reaching over and pulling up the sleeve of his plain white t-shirt to reveal the patch adhered to his skin.

  “Had any cravings yet?”

  “Not yet.” He pulled his sleeve back down and seemed to search for something to do with his hand before he settled on picking absently at the worn fabric on the couch.

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “Especially since I just ate and I usually go smoke after.”

  It was yet another piece of Jackson I didn’t know before. Nasty habit or not, I liked finding out more about him.

  It fell quiet again. I had no idea what Jackson was thinking or feeling, but the cadence of my heart was frantic as I racked my brain for something sweet, eloquent or witty to say. I didn’t want him to see just how nervous I was, and I so badly wanted to just blurt out that I liked him too before asking him to just kiss me already.

  The prospect of kissing him, of course, brought on a whole new wave of anxiety. I’d never kissed anyone before, so I’d have no idea what I was doing. What if I was such a terrible kisser that Jackson changed his mind about how he felt about me? What if my lips were too dry or too wet? I’d only dabbed on a bit of flavored lip gloss before leaving home, but what if he didn’t like that? What if I slobbered on him or did something equally embarrassing? Oh God. What if he tried to slip his tongue into my mouth? I liked Jackson a lot, but I didn’t think I was ready for that.

  I cursed myself for not considering all of this before coming over. I couldn’t help but wonder what Jackson must be thinking. What if he thought I’d taken the part of his note about pretending he hadn’t said anything about liking me to heart because I didn’t feel the same way?

  My poor heart felt like it was going to explode, and I knew if I was this anxious, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Jackson might be feeling. At this rate, it was likely to drive him to rip off the patch and go back to smoking to calm his nerves. I felt desperate enough that I might have joined him.

  Finally I couldn’t take it any longer and blurted, “I like you, too, Jackson.”

  Jackson, who had been examining his copy of Perks for a second time, looked up and the surprise was evident in his expression. “You do?”

  I nodded, probably a little too enthusiastically, and smiled. The subtle worry that was previously etched on Jackson’s face fell away. He breathed out a huge sigh as his mouth split into that breathtaking grin. I laughed a little, nervously, at the abrupt change, but then I bit my lip, unsure how to proceed. “So . . .”

  Jackson raised an eyebrow as if to say, “Yes?”

  I didn’t know how to finish the sentence, though, so we just stared at each other. My heart was still racing, but the cause had shifted from nervousness to relief, as I looked into his eyes. They’d changed colors yet again, shifting into a warm gold, and I understood what Bert McCracken from The Used meant in the song Jackson included on the mix CD that talked about catching fire and melting into someone’s eyes.

  I wasn’t sure if it was only hope on my part or if it was really there, but I felt like Jackson and I were on the same wavelength as we continued to hold each other’s gaze. Inside my head, a broken record repeated the refrain, “Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.”

  At some point, apparently, the words moved from inside my head and slipped out of my mouth because Jackson’s eyes lit before taking on a darker hue as his mouth split into another grin and he whispered, “Okay.”

  Then he was leaning forward, his mouth descending upon mine, and my eyes fluttered shut as our lips touched. I’d always heard people use these cliché descriptions about how amazingly, breathtakingly perfect their first kiss was—either in general or with a specific person—but I’d never understood what they meant. None of those words really described how it actually felt to have another person’s lips against your own in such an intimate way.

  Much to my disappointment, I found I couldn’t think of anything other than a bunch of clichés to describe it either. But the slow, purposeful way Jackson moved his lips against mine as he dug his fingers into my hair was exhilarating. I’d always thought of his mouth as lush and full, but his lips were also impossibly soft and smooth. There was only a faint tickle from the light stubble along his upper lip. Normally, I hated anything that tickled, but this only seemed to add another exciting dimension.

  Since I knew—okay, maybe I just assumed—he was the one with the experience, I let Jackson lead, but I slowly found myself feeling bolder and doing what seemed to come naturally.

  When we finally pulled apart, gasping for air, I had to look away. I could feel my face flaming red and my lips felt swollen in the most delicious way. A goofy grin tried to force its way upon my face, but I managed to keep it at bay.

  “So, better than an ashtray?” I could hear the grin in Jackson’s voice before I even looked at him.

  I rolled eyes. “Considering I’ve never kissed an ashtray or anything else for the matter, I’m going to make an educated guess and say, yes, that was much better than an ashtray.” At my admission, my already flaming cheeks grew even hotter.

  “Good to know,” Jackson chuckled.

  His easygoing teasing should have set me at ease, but I was still self-conscious. “Was I okay?” I had to ask. I couldn’t stand the uncertainty. “I mean, like I said, I’ve never kissed anyone before, so if I was terrible—”

  Jackson cut me off. “You weren’t terrible. Not by any stretch of the imagination,” he assured me. “Believe me, I know about horrible first kisses. I actually bit the girl’s lip by accident my first time.”

  “No!” I tried to stifle a laugh, but it broke through. I glanced at Jackson, hoping I hadn’t offended him. “Sorry!”

  “No, no.” He held up his hands. “Go on and laugh. It was horrifying, no doubt, but I know it’s funny.”

  I tried not to laugh too long at Jackson’s expense, but as funny as it was, it was also a relief to find that someone like Jackson, who always seemed so calm, cool, and collected, wasn’t always so smooth. It also helped me relax a bit.

  “So, now that I’ve bared my soul,” Jackson smirked, “what would you like to do?”

  I was trying to work out a subtle way to suggest more kissing, but before I had a chance, Chloe’s high, melodic voice rang out from the top of the stairs. “Jacks! Jordy says for you to stop playing with your friend and come upstairs and play a game with us!”

  Jackson groaned. “I’m going to kill my brother.”

  I captured my bottom lip between my teeth as the corners of my mouth tilted up. “I guess that decides what we’re going to do now.”

  “Sorry,” Jackson mumbled, but I shrugged. I didn’t mind. I wanted to get to know his family better.

  Upstairs, we gathered around the kitchen table with Clare, Chloe, Eric and Jordan. We tried to play Trivial Pursuit, but we were all so bad at it that we had to keep giving each other clues in order to make any headway. We finally gave up and pulled out Monopoly, but Jordan was a horrible cheat and Chloe got bored pretty fast.

  “Let’s play something fun,” she complained.

  I couldn’t argue with her there. I liked both of the previous games in very small doses.

  Jackson eyed his youngest sister. “What do you suggest then, Tweety?” My heart melted a little at the endearment. I wondered where it came from and made a note to ask Jackson about it later.

  “Operation!” Chloe exclaimed.

  Jordan groaned. “I’ll pass if I have to look at that fat dude with no junk.”

  “Jordan!” Clare cried. “That’s disgusting.”

  Chloe’s little eyebrows drew together in confusion. “What junk?”

  Eric shot a look at Jordan that seemed to say, �
�Now look what you’ve done.”

  “It’s nothing,” Jackson said quickly. “Don’t worry about it, Tweety.”

  “But maybe we should pick something else to play,” Clare suggested. “Something all of us like.”

  Chloe pouted, but she didn’t throw a fit, which I realized probably made her more mature than Skylar. “Hi Ho Cherry-O?”

  “Oh, yeah!” Jordan looked gleeful at Chloe’s suggestion. His eyes passed over me and he opened his mouth to say something, but then the table jolted and Jordan groaned. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, glaring at Jackson. “What the hell?”

  “Language!” Siobhan called from the living room.

  “Keep your crude jokes to yourself,” Jackson spat, glaring right back at his older brother.

  Eric smirked and shook his head as Clare sighed, clearly exasperated. “Only two to four people can play that one anyway,” she commented.

  Jordan just couldn’t seem to help himself. “Not the way I play it,” he grinned as he dodged out of the way of Jackson’s next kick under the table.

  We finally settled on playing The Game of Life. It was a bit too old for Chloe, so Clare suggested she play on a team with someone. Surprisingly, she wanted me to be her teammate, but I had no arguments with that.

  Midway through the game, Siobhan came into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. “Will you stay and eat with us, Silly?” she invited.

  I was eager to accept, but I made sure to call home and check with Mom or Dad about it first since it was Christmas, after all. “Sure thing, Sil,” Mom said. I could tell she was smiling. “I take it things are going well?”

  “Yes.” I felt my face grow hot, but thankfully Jackson had given me the handset and told me I could use the family office to call in private.

  We finished the game just as Siobhan announced dinner was almost ready. I helped Clare clear the table while Jackson excused himself to the bathroom and Chloe went to find her father. Eric and Jordan slipped out the door in the kitchen that led out onto what I could see was the back deck.