Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (46 page)

Even
though Jackson was aware of how I felt in regards to my sister and him, I was
sure she’d prance downstairs and make a spectacle of herself no matter how
Jackson responded to her.

Panicked,
I looked up at Jackson and asked, “Shouldn’t you maybe be getting back home before
all of your relatives leave?”

“I
suppose.” Jackson eyed me curiously. I wasn’t sure if he’d heard Skylar or not,
but it was obvious he knew something was up. He nodded toward the gift in my
hand. “Aren’t you going to open that first?”

My
first instinct was to lie to get him out of the house, but I didn’t want to lie
to him. I didn’t like being that kind of person, and it seemed like such a step
backward now that we were finally on speaking terms again.

Instead,
I answered honestly. “I would, but Skylar’s upstairs. I think she’s probably
going to come down any minute, and I don’t want her to see you here,” I
explained. “She and I haven’t been on the best of terms since that day you were
over here to watch that movie with her.”

“Oh.”
Jackson’s eyes widened. Today they were honey brown with a ring of green around
the outside.

“Really,
I don’t
want
you to leave,” I said, biting my lip, “but you probably
should.”

“It’s
no problem,” he shrugged and then nodded to the gift. “Just make sure you open
that, okay?”

“Promise,”
I said, feeling brave and wrapping my arms around his middle. He smelled
amazing and it took me a moment to remember what I was going to say. “Thank
you, and Merry Christmas.”

“You
too,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and giving me a big squeeze before
we pulled away from each other. “I’m sure I’ll talk to you soon,” he said,
grinning. There was some emotion in his eyes, but before I could figure out
what it was, he’d pulled the door open and slipped outside.

I
watched from the window beside the front door as he walked out to his car. Lost
in the beauty that was Jackson, I jumped when someone cleared his or her throat
behind me. I spun around and frowned when I saw it was Skylar.

“Who
was here?” she asked, leaning to the side to see around me through the window.

“Jackson,”
I answered, glancing over my shoulder as his Camaro pulled away from the curb.

“Oh.”
Skylar seemed to perk up a bit. “What for?”

“He
brought by my Christmas gift,” I answered, waving the present in front of me
once. Skylar looked around, her thin brows drawing closer together to form that
furrow between them. “Did he leave me anything?”

“No.”
My tone was terse as I shook my head. “Like I said, he came to bring
me
a Christmas gift.”

The
frown stayed in place, but I met Skylar’s bright blue eyes and found confusion
and hurt there. Instead of feeling guilty about my words, I reminded myself
that she was the one who was wrong. Apparently, she still didn’t understand she
was wrong about Jackson’s motives. She probably still hadn’t realized how much
she’d hurt me by feeding me those lies and purposely shoving her friendship
with Jackson in my face, after telling me he had no interest in me as a person,
either.

Mom
really was right. Skylar was self-absorbed, but she was also mean and
thoughtless. Maybe because it was the holidays, I couldn’t find it in myself to
be angry with my sister, though. Instead, I could only feel pity for her.

The last
time I could ever remember feeling so giddy about opening a present was when I
was eight and begged my parents for a dollhouse for all of my Barbies to live
in.  I barely slept on Christmas Eve that year, trying to stay awake in hopes
I’d hear Santa and his reindeer on the roof. Obviously, I didn’t hear the
reindeer, but even though I drifted off to sleep at some point that night, I
was still the first one up on Christmas day.

I’d
never been so excited in my life as when I came downstairs and saw all of the
presents spread out under the tree. I was beside myself with joy when my
parents brought my last present out from another room. I tore away the wrapping
paper to reveal the Barbie dollhouse I’d been asking for what, in my child’s
mind, felt like forever.  I knew exactly how the kid in
A Christmas Story
felt when he finally got his Red Rider BB gun.

On
my way to my room to open my gift from Jackson, I felt that same excitement
once again. I had no idea what the present might be, but, in truth, I knew it
really didn’t matter
what
he got me. His confession that he’d wanted to
see me was gift enough. The fact that he’d actually made a trip over to my
house in the middle of his Christmas celebration to see me was just the icing
on the cake.

Upon
entering my room, I noticed my gift for him sitting on my desk. I realized I
shouldn’t have let him leave without giving it to him first. I felt so guilty
and a bit stupid, but that only lasted a moment. Giving him his gift would be a
perfect excuse to see him the next day and thank him for whatever he got me.

I
looked at the package he’d given me once again. The depth looked like the
equivalent of two CDs put together, and the length was about the size of a DVD.
It was definitely much too big to be a gift card. I decided not to analyze it;
instead, I ripped away the paper.

It
took me a moment to realize I was looking at a mix CD because there, on the
cover, was a drawing of my face. It was somewhat in profile with my head turned
slightly away, but the corners of my mouth were turned up in a small smile
while my cheeks were a rosy pink, as if I were both amused and embarrassed. I’d
never seen a picture like this of myself before, which could only mean that
Jackson drew it from memory.

Once
I was finally able to tear my eyes away from the both flattering and realistic
portrait of myself, I took in the rest of the cover.  Across the bottom, he’d
hand lettered the title, “Strange and Beautiful: Songs About Silly.”

Biting
my lip, I removed the CD from the case. Jackson had also hand written the title
on it. I realized he was really good at lettering. The writing on the CD and
cover were different from the loopy, neat words he’d written on the birthday
card he’d made for me, and it was also slightly different from the note I’d
found inside
The Chronicles of Narnia
collection he’d given me. His
writing in the last had been just a bit sloppier, so I guessed it was probably
his typical handwriting.

I
popped the CD into my player and pressed play. A familiar slow, eerie beat
filled the room as I crossed back to my bed, where I’d left the case. Without
even looking, I recognized the popular Aqualung song. He’d obviously taken the
title for the mix CD from the name of the song.

The
booklet was stapled together at the center, and each page’s song title was
lettered in a different style with an excerpt of lyrics from the song along
with a drawing. Some of the drawings seemed to somehow reference the lyrics
while others seemed to be based on things we’d talked about. From the title of
the mix, I could only guess that the lyrics he’d chosen to use in the excerpts
were the parts pertaining to me.

I
blushed at some of the lyrics he chose to highlight, but I felt giddy and
giggly nonetheless. I was thrilled that I knew most of the songs. There was
only a couple that I wasn’t familiar with. One was a bluesy tune by Jonny Lang
with sexy lyrics about coming alive and being set free by touch. I wondered,
feeling flushed, if that was how I made Jackson feel.

The
other song was by a band I’d never heard of called Waking Ashland. The lyrics
mentioned surrendering and letting someone else call the shots. It made me
curious, but I tried not to read too far into it in case I was interpreting
this gift the wrong way.

Once
I’d thoroughly examined the homemade booklet, I turned my attention to the
other part of the present. As I’d suspected, it was, in fact, a DVD. When I
looked at the cover and saw that it was
The Client
I was somewhat
confused as to why he’d chosen to give that particular movie since it had been
part of our brief falling out.

There
was a card taped to the front of the DVD. I carefully pulled it away from the
case. It wasn’t sealed tightly, so it was easy to slip a finger under the edge
and open it. I pulled its contents out. There were two sheets. One was heavier
paper, possibly cardstock, and the other was smaller and flimsier.

I
opened the smaller one first and was confused to discover it was a receipt. At
first I thought he’d included it by mistake. Then I saw what it was a receipt
for: NicoDerm CQ.

I
smiled, immediately realizing that it meant Jackson was trying to quit smoking.
Some of the confusion still remained, though. As happy as I was for him, I
wasn’t sure why he’d given the receipt to me. 

Then
I noticed that there seemed to be something on the back of the sheet, bleeding
through. I turned it over, recognizing Jackson’s handwriting, where is said:

"Times New Roman","serif"; font-style: italic'>Because ‘I don’t think most girls are into kissing guys with mouths
that taste like an ashtray.’

I laughed, surprised he’d
remember something I’d said to him months earlier well enough to quote it, as I
unfolded the other sheet of paper.

Silly,

"Times New Roman","serif"; font-style: italic'> If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t chicken out, and I gave your
present to you. You’re probably wondering what it all means. When I came up
with the idea, it all seemed so clever. Now, I’m not sure. I guess I’ll just
let you be the judge.

"Times New Roman","serif"; font-style:italic'>The DVD is pretty obvious. I’m hoping we can watch it
together sometime, which was my original plan. The receipt is because of what
you said about kissing guys who smoke. Plus, it is a pretty nasty habit.

The songs on the mix CD are, as the title says, ones that
make me think of you or describe how I feel about you. If you’ve read them,
then I hope you picked up what I was trying to say. If not, then I’ll just say
it. I like you. A lot. Not just as a friend, either. 

There. I said it. I’ve wanted to say it for a while now, but
I guess I was just too scared you might not feel the same way. If you don’t,
it’s okay. Just do me a favor, if that’s the case. Just pretend you never read
this, okay? It would save me from complete humiliation. But if you do feel the
same way, then I hope we’ll talk soon.

Merry Christmas!

"Times New Roman","serif"; font-style:italic'>– Jackson
"Times New Roman","serif";font-style:normal'>

For
the next several minutes, I turned into a giggling twit. I fell back on my bed
and kicked my feet up in the air while I sang a little ditty that consisted
mostly of the words, “He likes me! He
really
likes me,” which was
followed by “Jackson and Silly sitting in a tree.”

By
the time I came back to my senses, I was exhausted. I wanted to call Tegan and
share the news. She’d likely be just as excited as I was, if not a bit superior
since she’d been right, after all, but she and her family were visiting her
grandparents somewhere in Indiana and wouldn’t be heading back until the
following evening.

That
meant I was left to handle the situation on my own. It was somewhat daunting,
trying to decide my next move. I lay in bed as I weighed my options. Even if I
knew what I was going to say when I got there, it was too late to go over to
his house now.

In
the end, I decided I would ask Mom or Luke to take me over to Jackson’s house
the following afternoon, after we’d opened presents and had lunch. I could get
his address from the phonebook, and I could tell Mom or Luke I needed to give
Jackson his present if they wanted to know why I was insistent about going on
Christmas day. As for what I’d say to him, I decided I’d just wing it. How hard
could it be to let him know his feelings were reciprocated?

With
that decision made, I decided it was time to get some sleep. After all, I
didn’t want to show up at Jackson’s house looking like something from
Dawn
of the Dead
. 

The
next morning, I half expected it all to be a dream, but as I held Jackson’s
note and reread it, I was assured that it was very much real. For the first time
since I was little, I was the first one up on Christmas morning. Instead of
sneaking into Luke or Skylar’s rooms to wake them or bursting into my parents’
room to wake them up to open presents, I took a long, hot shower before I
dressed for the day in jeans and a plain hunter green t-shirt with a navy zip
up hoodie over it. Then I took special care to dry my hair and even used
Skylar’s flat iron to eliminate flyaway hairs before applying just a bit of
makeup.

By
the time I was finished, it was nearly eight o’clock and both of my parents
were up.

“Why
don’t you wake your brother and sister?” Mom suggested when she passed me in
the hallway on her way downstairs to put the ham in the oven for lunch.

  That
was a frightening task, but I didn’t argue with Mom for fear she wouldn’t let
me go to Jackson’s later. Neither Luke nor Skylar were easy to wake up, and
when they did wake, they were most always grumpy. If I’d had a stick, I would
have stood at the doorway and poked them awake with it.

Knowing
Mom would ask questions if I went downstairs and got the yardstick, I sucked it
up and entered Skylar’s room first. I shook her a couple of times, and she
groaned. “What?” she asked sleepily as she rubbed at her still closed eyes.

“Mom
told me to wake you up,” I said, quick to blame Mom for the disruption of her
sleep.

She
made an odd noise that sounded something like a cross between a drunken pirate
and a cow. I stifled a laugh as I backed away from the bed.