Page 21 of The Summer We Played Pretend

I force a smile. Here she is recovering from heartache and I’m about ready to spend the rest of the night kissing her. She doesn’t need this.

“Let’s get back to the party,” I suggest, and she gives a little smile in response.

As we turn back toward the party, I glance at Brendan one last time. His smug expression doesn’t bother me anymore. Chloe’s mine, and I’ve wanted this for longer than I’d like to admit. But now, as I replay that kiss in my head, I can’t shake one thought.

Wanting her might not just be a quiet ache anymore.

It might be something I can’t hold back.

Chapter Ten

Chloe

The clatter of dishes fills the kitchen as I help Mom clean up after lunch. Sunlight streams through the window, catching on soap bubbles floating in the sink. I'm elbow-deep in sudsy water when Mom clears her throat.

"So, honey," she begins, "how are you feeling after the party last night?"

I tense slightly, sensing the real question behind her words. Memories of the party flash through my mind—the pulsing music, the laughter, Jackson's warm hand in mine. I force myself to relax, focusing on scrubbing a stubborn bit of food off a plate.

"I'm okay," I say, aiming for nonchalance. "It was fun. Thanks for letting me go."

Mom hums thoughtfully as she dries a glass. "That's good. I'm glad you had a nice time." She pauses, and I can practically feel her gearing up for more questions. "You and Jackson seem to be spending more time with each other lately."

My heart skips at the mention of Jackson's name. I bite my lip, debating how much to share. The truth is, I'm not sure what's going on between us. That kiss at the party...it felt like something shifted, but I'm terrified of getting my hopes up.

"We're just friends, Mom," I say, hating how my voice wavers slightly. "Anyway, he’s Ethan’s friend more than mine.”

"Mmm-hmm," Mom murmurs, clearly unconvinced. I can feel her eyes on me, but I keep my gaze fixed on the soapy water. “Well, he’s been very good to you since the breakup with Brendan. He’s a nice boy.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Jackson is nice—more than nice. He's been my rock since the breakup. But what if I'm reading too much into things? What if last night was just a mistake?

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Mom says softly, touching my arm. "I know this breakup hasn't been easy for you."

I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. "I know, Mom. Thanks."

We fall into silence, the only sounds the gentle clink of dishes and the rhythmic swish of the dishtowel. I'm grateful Mom doesn't push further, even though I can tell she wants to. As I rinse the last plate, I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Whatever happens with Jackson, I know I'll be okay. I've survived worse, after all. And for now, that has to be enough.

“Will Jackson be coming over today?”

I try not to roll my eyes. So much for Mom not pushing. I hesitate, twisting the dishtowel in my hands. "We're just friends. Really."

She raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "If you say so, sweetie. I know he’s had a bit of a reputation in the past but he’s quite the catch. Those Whitaker boys have always been handsome."

I feel my cheeks flush. "Mom! The only other Whitaker boy is his dad!”

“Don’t tell your father I said that.”

“I heard that,” my dad says from the other room.

“I can say what I want when I’m the one doing the dishes,” Mom shouts back.

“Because I cooked,” my dad retorts.

She laughs and shakes her head, putting away a stack of plates. "You're right to focus on friendship, especially with college coming up, but life doesn’t always go the way you plan.”

Just as I'm about to dive deeper into my college plans, desperate for any distraction from thoughts of Jackson, my phone buzzes on the counter. My heart leaps into my throat.

Mom glances at the screen before I can grab it. "Speak of the devil," she says with a knowing smile. "Looks like Jackson's ears were burning."

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