Mine Would Be You (101)
I lean my head on Jackson’s shoulder as we descend in the elevator until we stop on the parking floor and head to the Jeep. He places the bags in the back as Bane bounds into the car without any help and I swing myself into the passenger seat.
I turn on the music as he pulls onto the street. It’s only three on a Thursday, and since it’s the day after Christmas, it’s actually pretty dead as we drive to the nearest gas station. It’s cloudy and gray, and the clouds look heavy. I think it might snow. At least, I hope it does.
“Any special requests?” Jackson says as he hops out of the car, and I shake my head, reaching my hand back to pet Bane. His soft fur immediately comforts me. “All right, be right back, baby.”
My blood warms as he shuts the door behind him because even after two years, nothing’s really changed. Of course, things are different. We live together and have for almost two years; we have a dog, and life is simply better. Not to say that everything is always easy. That would be unrealistic. We’ve fought, over stupid shit like which shelf to put groceries on in the fridge or how to arrange the pantry, but those fights always end in us laughing or joking and wrapped up on the couch.
We’ve fought about other things, but honestly, I can’t remember the serious fights, because they aren’t many. Because we never go to sleep angry or at least without talking about things. I never push him too far because he still likes to hold it in, but I let him know I’m there in the silence, through touching him or just being near him. Jackson’s getting better about telling me when something is bothering him or when he needs space. And he makes sure to let me cool down or sit on the floor or manically clean everything before I’m ready to talk.
There are no secrets, nothing is ever swept under the rug and left for later. We address it, we move on, and we go back to how we are, we go back to normal. But it’s not like it happens that often. Things are still amazing.
Our normal is amazing.
For the most part, being with Jackson, living with him, is everything I wanted it to be. I know how he takes his coffee, and he knows how I take mine; he knows what I like for dinner, and I know what mood he’s in based on the album spinning on the record player. Living with Jackson Ross is simply the best. I get to go to sleep with him and wake up with him, I get to annoy him whenever I want. It’s living with my best friend, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.
I didn’t think it could be better, but then we got Bane, and I’ll walk in on them cuddling or vice versa. Even Jenko settled into loving the big puppy, and rainy days or our off days will often turn into the four of us on the bed or the couch, and it’s moments like those it hits me how much I love him.
Not that I forget, but every day there’s something that reminds me just how special he is.
I’m brought out of my thoughts when he appears at my door, bright blue eyes and a dimple peeking through. “Here, got you Twix and Sour Straws.” He plops the candy into my hand, and I reach up and poke the dimple.
“Thanks,” I respond, dumping the candy on my lap as he leans in, waiting for the gas to fill the tank. He nods, the soft smile never leaving his face as he reaches a hand back for Bane.
“’Sup, buddy? You excited for the Hamptons?” he says, his voice higher and warmer as he talks to the puppy, who just wags his tail excitedly. I grin, watching them. “Yeah, me too. Uninterrupted time with my favorite person.”
Bane lets out a tiny bark in response, and I laugh, feeling the familiar flush of my cheeks as Jackson’s eyes flicker back to mine. He grins and leans in through the window and presses a quick kiss to my lips. The feeling of his lips on mine still lingers even as he moves back into the driver’s seat and sets us officially on the way to the Hamptons.
Most of the way is spent in a comfortable silence or singing along to the playlist I have on shuffle with horrible voices and loud laughs with each other. His hand almost never leaves my knee, tapping along to the beat or just resting quietly.
I adjust my legs again, and look at Jackson, who has one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on my leg. “So, the realtor got back to me.”
His blue eyes flicker to mine, a slow smile spreading. “And?”
Trying and failing to keep the smile off my face, warmth fills my chest. Because as much as we love his high-rise apartment, we’ve also decided we want more charm, more history, more New York. We’re not buying, because who knows if we’ll stay in Manhattan forever, but we got approved for a new long-term rental. A brownstone. Mostly with the help of Jackson and his flourishing career.
“Brownstone is ours if we want it.” I grin, and he squeezes my knee as Bane sticks his head through the seats excitedly. Jackson looks over again, and I can see the pure excitement shine in his eyes and the way he leans back in the driver’s seat.
“God, I want to kiss you right now.”
I roll my eyes, patting the hand that rests on my leg. “You can kiss me when we get there.”
He raises a brow, confidence pouring out of him. “Oh, I will.” Bane barks, and I chuckle lightly, leaning back to pet him.
“Don’t worry, baby, I love you, and I won’t leave you out,” I coo to the dog, who wags his entire body with endless energy.
“You love him more than me,” Jackson pouts dramatically, and I look out at the scenery, the blue water peeking through the houses and the smell of salt and sand, and I know we’re almost there.