Page 115 of To Love or to Lose
“That’s the cupI’vebeen drinking out of, Genova.”
I shrug, pulling the cup closer to my mouth. “I don’t know what your intentions are.”
Holding eye contact with him, I finally tilt the cup back just enough to get a sip of his concoction.Except it’s not much of a concoction at all, it’s practically straight vodka
“Oh, my God,” I gasp through a cough as I hand him back his cup like it was burning in my hand. I chase his drink with my own, which really says something.
“Too strong?” He asks.
I nod. “Who the hell made that and called it a drink?”
“Me,” Jameson laughs. “I was watching everyone else pour drinks and tried to copy them.”
“Well, I think you mixed up the bottles. There’s supposed to be more sprite than vodka.”
He just laughs, taking another sip of his drink. “That is all you can taste, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much. Keep drinking that and you’ll be passed out on the lawn in no time.”
We laugh before it goes strangely silent. I’m tempted to try to find something else to talk about, but Jameson breaks the tension with a surprising question.
“What are you doing out here anyway?”
“Are you asking what I’m doing out here in general, or what am I doing out here sitting next to you?” I pose without answering his question.
“I can figure out why you’re here. I guess I’m more curious about why you decided to converse with me of all people.”
“I don’t think anyone should sit alone at a party,” I respond.
“I’m not alone.” He motions around us. “I’m pretty sure Logan invited the entire school.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I hold my cup up to my lips without taking a drink. “You can be surrounded by hundreds of people and still feel like the loneliest person in the world.”
Jameson shrugs, smiling. “I don’t think you can be lonely if you don’t mind being alone.”
I think back to the time in Meet in the Margins a few months ago, when Jameson and I had a small cease in our battle. I even let him pick out a book for me before I reached a roadblock and punished myself for allowing the occurrence to happen.
Suddenly, I feel the need to confess my thoughts. “I never read the book you picked out for me.” It comes out like a sigh of relief, and I immediately slouch back against the brick behind us.
“I figured,” Jameson responds, also leaning back.
“I threw it away, actually.” I wince at the sound of my admission, mostly because I’m realizing how childish my actions sound.
“Why?”
There’s a long stretch of silence. Partially because I don’t know what to say, but also because I’m not completely in tune with the way Jameson feels toward me. Is he still annoyed with me for all the fighting I put him through the past few months? Or is he okay with being in neutral territory?
This time, it’s me turning toward Jameson. Our knees are almost touching as I look in his eyes. “You might want to poison my drink if I tell you.”
He grabs my wrist, halting my movements. “I would never aim to harm you.”
The impact I feel in my chest is enough to make my breathing become more erratic than it had been previously.
His statement reminds me of the time in New York, when we had a snowball fight from our balconies, and he hit me in the face with a chunk of ice. I know he felt awful. I also know that he wasn’t intending to hurt me.
And although my immediate reaction to his statement was,“I know,”I understand that Jameson would never do anything to intentionally hurt me or my emotions. Even in the times where I’ve had my feelings hurt by what I thought was him, it really was my own inhibitions.
Instead of all that, I reply with, “Thank you.”
