Page 14 of Side Out

I run to the backdoor and make my way through the kitchen. As I round the corner, my eyes land on a gleefully happy Jackson Baker’s face popping out of the center of a blowup Patrick Star costume. And little to my surprise, the same man who was dancing with him at the beginning of the year, who I’m assuming is Clay, is next to him in a matching Spongebob Squarepants one.

I laugh beneath my mask at their ridiculous costumes as I find a spot against the wall in the living room, letting the lyrics of ?*“Maneater” by Nelly Furtado wash over me.

Bobbing to the beat, I find myself completely enamored by Jax and the happiness he seems to carry around with him anywhere he goes. But then I see it, and my heart stops.

He looks out his front window at what could only be my house and just stares for a second. A brief look of sadness washes over him before he leans in and whispers something in Clay’s ear, and then moves toward the front door.

My feet follow him before my head has a chance to stop me. Jax walks past people milling around the front porch, steps off, and makes his way toward the street. Clearly making a beeline straight for my house. I manage to easily catch up to his waddling form, grab his arm, and pull him to me.

“What the f—” He stops as his eyes meet mine. I should have known this wouldn’t be enough to fool him.

“Theo? Is that you?”

I answer with a question, “Doesn’t that ruin the game?”

He seethes, “What are you doing here?”

“Where were you just going?”

He huffs in annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest. But the pink blow-up fabric doesn’t allow him to move as desired, and I can’t help but burst out in laughter at this ridiculous scene.

I stand there and laugh so hard, bent over wheezing, tears stream down my cheeks beneath my mask. When I’m finally able to get it together, I dab inside the eye holes of my mask to try to collect the tears, and when I look back up at Jax I find him clearly unamused.

“I was coming to ask you if the music was too loud,” he deadpans.

“Bullshit.” His brows raise at my blunt response.

“I didn’t want your old ass to be over there alone, so I was coming to see if you wanted to come to the party, okay?” Alright, that very well could be the truth, but it still leaves me with too many questions.

“Jackson Baker, I am not that old.”

His curiosity peaks. “How old are you, Mr. Young?”

Shit. I walked right into that one. Sighing, I answer regretfully, “Thirty.”

He moans and bites his fist dramatically. “You can’t say you’re thirty while you’re wearing a fucking mask in my front yard.”

“And why not?”

Damn it, Theo. You’re playing with fire.

His face falls again, but it’s not in frustration or anger this time. No, this time it’s…acceptance. “I don’t have an ounce of self-control left in me when it comes to you,” he says softly, and despite his ridiculous costume, it fucking does me in.

Fire is better than being left out in the cold.

I take two steps closer so the two of us are standing as close as possible. Reaching up I brush a wayward strand of hair from his forehead. We both bristle at the touch. “Good. You don’t need any tonight,” I say as my eyes dance between his.

He raises a brow and whispers, “We shouldn’t be doing this… remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” I say softly, but I’m actively going against every alarm bell that’s going off in my head at the moment.

“Theo,” he says my name the same way he always seems to. Like he’s begging me and exhausted by the situation all at the same time. And I’ve got to say, I’m really growing tired of it… despite how wrong I know all of this is.

So I say the one word that’s been ringing through my brain since I saw him head toward my house.

The one word that just might make this wild man listen to me.

For once.

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