Mine Would Be You (68)

“I see you’ve been practicing your Spanish.” Nina tucks a curl behind her ear.

I lean down, brushing my lips over her cheek, hoping to see the pink flush that always appears, and when I pull away, I’m pleased to see it spread. “This girl I know got me a dictionary. Figured it was time to use it.” Her lips twitch. “Ready?”

She doesn’t say anything, just puts her arm through mine.

Her brown eyes look up at me, dark and beautiful in the sunlight. And finally, her lips tug into a small smile, erasing any tension that she didn’t already get rid of. Nina steps closer, into my space, and I welcome her into it. I would welcome her anywhere. If I had it my way, there’d never be any space between us.

She’s fallen into my life easily, and I hope despite everything going on, she stays.





“Come on, Harper, let’s go already,” I shout from the kitchen, tapping away at my phone, letting my parents know we’ll be there soon.

It’s already Labor Day. The past two weeks have flown by in an instant. Ever since Jackson met my parents and I talked to Emma, I’ve felt better. More willing to put my guard down and finally let Jackson in. Let him treat me the way he has been since the beginning but letting myself enjoy it. For once in my life.

He hasn’t talked to Myles since their lunch, and he hasn’t brought up his dad recently, but I need to ask him about it. Make sure he isn’t keeping it in for my sake. I don’t want him to think that he’s just a shoulder to lean on, at least not for me. It’ll take work, but I want him to know that I’m here for him, to listen and hear him, for whatever he needs, like he has been with me.

“Is that the sweet tea you made him?” Sloan smirks, standing next to me. I blatantly ignore her, sending another message, this time to Veah, thanking her for telling me Jackson’s mom’s recipe. I’m sure it’s not perfect or anything like his mom’s, but I hope it’s close.

His sister and I have talked a lot over the past two weeks, ever since she ended up facetiming one Thursday when we were getting pizza. It started as a normal, brother-sister call until she caught glimpse of me and the brightest, smile came over her face. They may not be blood related, but she has the same easy-going energy he does, even over the phone. It turned into her and I talking for an hour till Jackson decided he needed attention and dragged me away. He had no shame in hanging up the phone on her.

On top of that, Jackson and I have just spent a lot of time together. Lazy touches, his fingertips on my spine or the outside of my leg, trailing up and up, or mine roaming over his chest and smooth back when we listen to music some days. We haven’t done anything further, despite the longing growing in my chest every time I’m near him. But most days I just enjoy the simplicity of being touched the way he does. Gentle and searching, like he’s learning every inch.

“All right, let’s go.” Harper enters, with her bag over her shoulder. “Don’t forget your precious sweet tea for your boyfriend,” she sings, and when she walks past me, I tap the back of her knee with my foot playfully.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I mumble as we lock the door behind us.

“Not yet.” Sloan swings an arm over my shoulder, pressing a kiss on my cheek with a smile. I try to fight it, but I can’t help but smile in my best friend’s hold. The sun hits us as we walk to the subway, the city buzzing with life on the holiday weekend.

We arrive at my house quickly, walking the sidewalks of our old street, where the three of us use to run around, in and out of the bodega on the corner or the donut shop two blocks over or just getting into trouble. The side street is already packed since this party has never had an official start time. I see the neighbors I grew up around, their friends and families. Anyone that’s close enough comes to this event.

Jackson is about to meet everyone who had a hand in raising me, who watched me grow up, and that is way more terrifying than him just meeting my parents, but I’m not scared. Just excited.

We walk up to the stoop in front of my house, and it’s crowded too. Some of the younger guests are throwing footballs in the front street, kicking balls down the sidewalk, or sitting on the stoops and holding the plastic cups my mom gives out for her parties. Music is blasting from a speaker somewhere, filling the air. When they see us, they wave and shout hellos as we walk in.

The front door is wide open as usual, but my mom is there. “Girls, come in, come in.” She grins, motioning us to the kitchen. She pulls Harper and Sloan in first for a hug, which isn’t even surprising anymore. But dad pulls me in, and I smile as he kisses the top of my head.

“Where is the blond?”

I raise a brow. “He’s coming later.”

“What’s this?” He taps the pitcher.

“It’s sweet tea. For the blond.” I mock.

He leans back, holding my shoulders and looking over me with a watchful gaze. “You made him sweet tea? Are you sure you’re my daughter?”

My cheeks heat. “He said it’s his favorite, and he hasn’t been home to have his mom’s, and Labor Day was practically when he got adopted, and I—”

Dad chuckles, his dark skin crinkling. “I think it’s very sweet. I’ve just never really seen this. You weren’t like this with what’s his name.” I know damn well he remembers his name. “Maybe it’s because you were younger or—I don’t know. It reminds me of your mom.”