“I see them in class all day,” Jackson shrugged easily when I voiced my worry. “As much as I like the guys, I don’t mind getting a break from them.”
I hadn’t really met many of Jackson’s friends. Some of them had stopped by the lunch table we occupied from time to time, or we’d end up next to them in the lunch line, but we’d never spent any time with them outside of school.
“I don’t see them much outside of school anyway,” Jackson explained. “Between work and homework, I don’t have a lot of free time.”
I suddenly felt guilty that I was monopolizing all of his time without knowing it, but before I could express this worry, Jackson had already read my expression. “Silly, I like spending time with you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t. But, really, most of the time I’m too tired to go out with them after work, and if I’m not and I’m going to do something, I’d really kind of prefer to go hang out with you or Jordan.”
It wasn’t until then that I really started to recognize that for as friendly and outgoing as Jackson always appeared, he was kind of a homebody. Spending time with Jordan wasn’t much of a surprise either. After all, he’d already confessed that, cocky asshole or not, Jordan was his best friend.
It wasn’t as if Jackson went without male company during lunch anyway. Aside from Mark, Luke had, unfortunately, been assigned the same lunch period and had made himself at home at our lunch table and brought Nick, Toby and Robby along with him.
Of course that meant much of the conversation revolved around Oxide. Often times Jackson was dragged into the discussion when Luke was looking for an outside opinion. I was always ready to offer my thoughts, but they were rarely ever welcome, so Tegan and I usually gabbed about something else until Jackson would extract himself from the conversation.
When my brother happened upon the CD artwork Jackson made for me, while looking for the handset in my room, he became interested in getting Jackson to create a logo for the band. Jackson was up to the task, but the band still wasn’t complete, as Stevie often pointed out when she dropped by our lunch table or came by the house. Luke still refused to bite whenever she hinted that she might be interested in becoming their lead singer.
Needless to say, the rush of change that came with new classes, all of the band discussion and reconfiguration of relationships had left me with very little time to fuss and fret over my date with Jackson. The only time I really thought much about where we might go or what we might do was when Dad started in on his grand inquisitions. He was only really able to pry when Mom wasn’t around, though, because she’d usually shoo him off while saying, “Let her be, Theo.”
The Friday of our date was just as hectic as the rest of the week had been. The band was practicing in the garage, and I could hear the pounding of the drums all the way upstairs. I almost feared Mark would end up bringing the house down—in a less than stellar way—with the way he was playing. I figured it was probably a good way for him to dispose of any of his anger, though. I hadn’t seen Mark get outright mad in a very long time, but I suspected his anger still existed.
Skylar had the night off from work, and Stevie was over yet again. I’d overheard them talking about Mom ordering pizza on the way into Skylar’s room to watch a movie. I had no idea how they expected to actually hear any of the movie, but I suspected Stevie was more interested in the band than a movie anyway, which meant Skylar might be the one raging later on. She had not taken well to Stevie’s interest in the band, antagonistic or not.
I had no idea where Dad was, and I wasn’t about to seek him out. Mom had passed by my room on the way down the hall and stopped in to remind me of my curfew of eleven o’clock. I tried for midnight, but it was useless. “Not until you’re sixteen,” she chirped. She seemed just a bit too gleeful about it for my liking.
Earlier in the evening, before Stevie came over, I asked Skylar—out of desperation—for her advice on what to wear for a date when I didn’t know what it would entail. After a quick look through my closet and lots of dissatisfied faces as she scanned, Skylar muttered, “I’ll be right back.”
She disappeared from the room only to return a minute later with a printed skirt and a tan shirt. “Wear a denim jacket over it, and you should be set for the evening.”
I was too surprised by her generosity to speak at first, and she was already out the door by the time I managed to thank her.
I managed to not spend all evening getting ready. I’d finally managed to get past my previous idiosyncrasy when it came to freaking out about how I looked before seeing Jackson. The “Snotty Marshmallow Incident”—as I’d come to call it the more I thought about it—really put things into perspective. Of course I still wanted to look nice, but I needn’t slave away and strive for a perfect ideal that would never exist.
Jackson had told me at school that he’d be by around sixty thirty to pick me up, and I was ready in plenty of time. I wasted some time online before finally going downstairs at a quarter after six. I saw that Dad was in the living room, watching the news, and kept on walking until I was in the kitchen with Mom.
She had the ice tea maker set up to brew a new pot and was putting away the clean dishes from the washer. She smiled when she noticed me. “Ready for your big date?”
I tried to play it off like it was nothing by saying, “It’s not that big of a deal.”
Mom didn’t buy it. “Of course it is. It’s your first date,” she said. “Any idea where he’s taking you?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt about it either. I liked surprises, but it was also kind of nerve-wracking. I hoped he wouldn’t take me anywhere that might result in me making a fool of myself. I was already worried enough about trying not to ruin my borrowed clothes.
“I’m sure it will be nice.” Mom paused and leaned against the counter. “My first date took me to the skating rink. Of course that was years ago, and skating rinks are probably extinct by now.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I think the one across town would still be in business if that tornado a few years ago hadn’t destroyed the building.”
“Maybe that was God’s way of saying roller skates were out of date,” she grinned.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed a couple of dishes from the washer and put them in their rightful place. “How old were you when you went on your first date?”
Mom considered for a moment. “I was probably about your age,” she answered thoughtfully. “I remember my dad wasn’t at all happy about it. If he’d had his way, I wouldn’t have dated until I was thirty.”
She laughed and I joined in. “Sounds like Dad.”
“He’s just not ready to let you grow up, Sil.” Mom smiled softly as she smoothed a strand of hair back away from my face. “In his eyes you’ll always be his little girl. Skylar and Luke grew up so fast, but I think he expected you to stay little forever. I know I did.”
Embarrassed, I muttered, “But I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“Maybe not,” Mom shrugged, “but you’re still our baby.”
Great, I thought, but I smiled, nonetheless, as the doorbell rang. “That’s probably Jackson.”
“Then you better head your father off before he gets to the door first and starts grilling Jackson,” Mom smirked.
I made a face and bid her goodbye before hurrying out of the kitchen and down the hall toward the front door.
I just barely beat Dad to the door, but before I could grab my coat, slip on my shoes and push Jackson back out the door, Dad caught us. Before he’d let us leave, he grilled Jackson about his driving record, reminded me about my curfew twice, and made it clear that if I came home with a hair out of place, there would be hell to pay. It was thoroughly mortifying, and if Mom hadn’t come along and saved us by dragging Dad into the kitchen while telling us to have a good time, we probably never would have got out of the house.
“Your dad really hates me,” Jackson chuckled once we were buckled up in his car.
“He still thinks of me as t
he baby; that’s all,” I replied. “Give him some time. He’ll warm up to you . . . I hope.”
“Wow, those thinly veiled doubts of yours are really reassuring,” Jackson laughed. “I don’t have a chance in hell, do I?”
“It’ll be okay, really,” I smiled, but I was trying to convince myself as well. “Once he gets over the idea of me dating, he’ll adjust.”
“You’re probably right,” he nodded. “I don’t know that I’d be too thrilled about Clare dating anytime soon.”
“Then you’d better start adjusting too,” I grinned. “She’s older than me, so it won’t be long.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Jackson made such an awful face filled with disgust that I couldn’t help but laugh. “With Jordan out of the house and Eric all the way in Chicago, it’s my obligation to take over the older overprotective brother role.”
“Funny, Luke never took on that role,” I said. “But then again he’s only focused on Oxide these days, so he probably doesn’t even know I’m out on a date right now.”
“He sure is determined about this whole band thing, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yeah,” I nodded. “And I never thought him and Mark would be friends, so it’s so bizarre to see them talking in the halls at school all the time.”
“It is kind of weird. Everyone thinks your brother’s lost it for letting Mark into his band.”
That didn’t surprise me at all. I’d noticed the stares and heard the murmurs. Even though I could understand it, it didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Mark’s a little rough around the edges, but once you get to know him, he’s a decent guy. I think . . .” I bit my lip. “I think he just needed some friends, ya know?”
Jackson considered for a moment. “It does seem to be doing him a lot of good,” he conceded. “People are still wary, but they aren’t cowering in his presence . . . as much.”
Our conversation continued all the way up until we pulled into the parking lot of De Luca’s. Of course, he parked in the farthest corner away from all of the other cars, but I barely noticed because I was so surprised. De Luca’s was an Italian restaurant that Travis had raved about, but I’d never been myself. Dad went for a business dinner once and complained later about how expensive it was and how happy he was that it was on the company’s dime.
Before we got to the doors, I grabbed Jackson’s arm, pulling him to a stop. He looked down at me, confused. “Are you sure you can afford this?” My question came out in an embarrassed whisper.
“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. “Besides, they could always send you to the back to do the dishes if not,” he winked. “That, of course, would be the third option.”
“Gee, thanks. What are the first two options?”
“The first would be that I pay for it, and the second would be that I charm the waitress into giving us a discount,” he grinned as he tugged me toward the door.
I grinned back. “Someone’s awful full of himself.”
Jackson shrugged as he held the door open and motioned me ahead of him. Once inside, I looked around while Jackson went over to give the hostess his name. Apparently, he’d made reservations because she grabbed a couple of menus and showed us to our seats.
I didn’t miss the way she eyed Jackson like he was a rare delicacy even though it was painfully obvious he was much too young for her. “Your waiter or waitress will be right with you,” she said, smiling invitingly as she handed us our menus.
I opened mine, smirking, as I looked it over.
“Why are you smirking?” Jackson asked.
I glanced at him over the menu and shrugged. “Nothing,” I said innocently.
“For some reason, I don’t quite believe you.”
I changed the subject. “Have you been here before?”
Jackson paused, seeming to consider whether or not he was going to press the issue of the smirk, before he finally shook his head.
“Me either.” I considered the items on the menu. “I wonder what’s good.”
“All of it, of course,” a male voice said. I looked up to find a handsome young man—probably college aged—standing over our table. He had pale blond hair and his matching eyebrows were nearly visibly against his tanned skin. “I’m Will,” he said, pointing to his nametag, and his light blue eyes sparkled. “I’ll be your server tonight. Can I go ahead and get your drinks? You look a bit young for wine, but I can offer you a lovely array of mixed drinks—virgin, of course.”
Jackson looked like he didn’t know what to make of our waiter, but he cleared his throat and said, “I’ll just have a Coke.”
Will nodded, but he didn’t write it down. Instead he turned to me. “Might I entice you with a mixed drink?”
I shook my head, smiling. “Raspberry tea?”
“Good choice,” Will grinned and motioned toward our menus before launching into the night’s special.
Once he’d walked away, after stating he’d get our drinks and give us time to consider, I couldn’t suppress a small giggle.
Jackson glanced around, trying to find the reason for the laughter. When he found nothing, he turned back to me. “What?”
“I was just thinking,” I said, unable to hold back the laughter as I spoke. “I’d like to see you charm Will.”
“Er,” Jackson looked troubled by the prospect, but then his expression cleared and morphed into a broad grin. “I think the dish plan just got bumped to option two. Unless you want to try charming our exuberant waiter.”
I considered. I felt pretty inept at flirting, but I wasn’t sure even that would work. “I don’t know if I’m Will’s type.” I arched an eyebrow at Jackson. “You might fare pretty well.”
“Am I giving off a vibe?” Jackson frowned.
I laughed again at his discomfort and confusion. “No, but you’re hot.”
As soon as the words were out, I felt my face flame, and much to my surprise, Jackson blushed as well.
“Whatever,” he mumbled, and I was stricken with the realization that it was very possible he had no idea he was so good looking. He quickly changed the focus back to the menu.
We decided to get the appetizer sampler. I tried to convince Jackson to give crispy calamari a shot, but he refused. “It’s really not bad,” I tried to assure him. “I’ve had it before.”
Jackson just shook his head while stating, “When it comes to food, I’m not that adventurous.”
Jackson made the unoriginal choice of lasagna, but he was at least brave enough to get the sampler, where he got the choice of three different kinds of lasagna. He chose pepperoni, Italian sausage and four-cheese marinara. I probably would have tried something a bit different if I’d gotten the sampler, but I went with the Mediterranean chicken penne instead. I considered the roasted red pepper chicken, but then I worried about bad breath and the price. I tried not to get anything too expensive, but Jackson’s choice wasn’t exactly cheap, so that was reassuring. Joking aside, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of flirting or washing dishes to pay the bill.
While we waited for the food, I asked one of the many questions that had been nagging at my mind. “Can I ask you something?” I checked first.
“Sure,” Jackson shrugged. “Hit me.”
“Your mom.”
Jackson took a sip of his drink before he sat back. “What about my mom?”
“What kind of accent does she have?” I clarified. “I cannot figure it out.”
“Oh.” Jackson chuckled. “I’m not entirely sure there’s a name for it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she was born in Michigan, but her dad was a sort of international businessman, and they moved to Ireland for several years. My Gram is part Irish anyway, so that was cool with her because she had some family there,” Jackson explained. “They lived there for, like, five or six years, but then they moved around for a few years after that. I can’t remember all of the places, but they lived in London, Tokyo and some place in Italy. I don’t think they were in a
ny one place for more than a year, but they finally moved back here to the states.”
“So it’s kind of a mishmash of accents then?”
Jackson nodded. “It’s faded over the years, though.”
“I didn’t notice it at first,” I admitted. “I thought she just had a distinct way of speaking.”
“I guess maybe that’s true since she doesn’t really have one specific accent,” Jackson conceded as our food arrived.
While we ate, we talked about school and the new schedules, as well as Luke’s inescapable new band.
“Tell me honestly,” Jackson grinned. “How do they sound?”
“Surprisingly decent,” I admitted. “Right now they’re just learning some covers, and it’s all instrumental since they haven’t found a lead singer.”
“Either Stevie’s really interested or she’s just really opinionated.”
“I think it’s a bit of both. She’s a huge music fan anyway, but her hints have been dropping about as subtly as a rock,” I laughed. “I’m not sure Luke will ever give her a shot. In case you hadn’t noticed, they don’t get along that well.”
“I never would have guessed,” Jackson smiled. “Between him telling her to get lost all of the time and their admiration for communicating in sign language.”
“They’ve always been like that,” I sighed. “Sometimes it’s amusing, but after a while, it gets kind of old and you just have to learn to block it out.”
“Hopefully the band will either find someone else or give Stevie a shot.” Jackson sounded hopeful, and I knew I wasn’t the only one growing weary of their snarky lunchtime chats.
“If they could get along, I think it would be a pretty good fit. Stevie really can sing.” I considered a moment, trying to figure out the best way to describe her voice. “Her voice is kind of like Amy Lee meets Lacey Mosley with a hint of Jenny Lewis.”
Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) Page 42