If I Tell

old. Not dead.” Jackson unlocked the door and gestured for me to go inside.
    I stepped into a small entrance. Directly to the left was a kitchen, and a long mirrored closet door was on the right. I slipped off my shoes on the entrance mat and dropped my backpack on the floor. I avoided my reflection and tiptoed after Jackson down the hallway to the living room. The apartment smelled like an old lady. Musty and floral at the same time. I smiled at the thought of Jackson living here.
    “Go and sit,” Jackson said, pointing to the couch. “I’ll get my guitar. It’s behind glass in my room. You want something to drink? Orange juice or water or something?”
    “No, thanks.” I walked to the overstuffed floral couch and sat, putting my guitar case by my feet. “It’s not really behind glass, is it?”
    A moment later he joined me in the living room, holding a beautiful acoustic guitar with an amazing design etched into the wood. I jumped up, pressing my hands together and bending forward to inspect the instrument, and forgot my nerves. “Oh, my God. It’s gorgeous. You did the design yourself?”
    “Yup. And I picked out everything else too. The bridge-pin setting, neck, body wood, all of it. Official Mandolin Brothers original. Marty is sweet.” He stroked the body of the guitar, touching the strings lightly and lovingly. And then he held it out.
    I licked my lips. “You’re sure?” I asked, longing to grab it from his hands. “It must have cost a fortune.”
    He nodded. “Drug money.”
    I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. I couldn’t resist the guitar though. My fingers caressed the wood, longing to stroke the strings and bring it to life.
    “Go ahead,” he told me. “Play.”
    I went back to the couch and got into position with the guitar. Then with a deep breath, I began to strum. “It’s amazing,” I whispered, and then my fingers plucked out the melody from a favorite song. After that, I closed my eyes and strummed out the first chord to my song.
    Jackson sat beside me on the couch.
    I kept playing, realizing his opinion meant more than I wanted it to. Then, still in my zone, I quietly sang the words I’d written.
It was you I saw, and I couldn’t close my eyes.
You I saw exposing me to your lies.
What you did makes me bereft
Because instead of facing it I left,
And now I’m alone with no one to trust.
Betray me. Betray you. I must.
    When I finished, I opened my eyes. Jackson sat close to me. His dark bangs hung over his face. Without thinking, I reached across the guitar and brushed them back from his forehead.
    “You wrote that.” A statement. Not a question. He smiled. “You’re talented. It’s an amazing song. I’m just sorry about what inspired it.”
    My eyes filled with tears.
    “I’m sorry Simon let you down,” Jackson said quietly, watching me.
    He licked his lips. I stared at them. Moist. Pink. They looked so very, very kissable. Compassion shone in his eyes. For me.
    I wanted him to kiss me. And I wanted to kiss him more than I’d wanted anything else in my life. My whole body ached, pleading me to do it. Be brave for once. Kiss him. I leaned forward. Jackson’s eyes widened, but he didn’t move back. I held my breath and kept moving until I touched his soft lips with my own.
    The kiss altered my body chemistry. His lips were softer than I’d imagined. Light. I breathed him in, his delicious smell. Tentatively I pressed harder on his lips, and he kissed me back. Almost on its own, my tongue darted out, and I nibbled his bottom lip. My insides quivered, thrilled with the sensation.
    And then he pulled away.
    Jackson jerked back, ending the moment with a horrible gasp.
    My eyes sprung open at the sudden painful parting, as if he’d ripped a Band-Aid off a stinging wound. He jumped up from the couch, glancing around the room like a trapped convict. My body instantly flooded with humiliation even as my lips shook with loss. My head swam. I couldn’t speak.
    He hadn’t wanted to kiss me.
    “Man. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” Jackson said, reaffirming my horror. He practically ran to the kitchen to get away from me. “Play some more. I’ll get us a drink. Play.”
    I touched my lips and lowered my eyes, swimming in shame. In the kitchen Jackson clanked glasses around and babbled. I listened without answering him, feeling empty but horrified. He must think me incapable of friendship with a male. He knew about me and Nathan at Marnie’s party,