irrevocable

{Twleve}

illicit affairs // Taylor Swift

Holly

Jackson's new place is sparse. I knew that it would be but knowing something and seeing it with your own eyes is two very different things.

The couch was delivered, courtesy of Grinder and his truck, first thing this morning. We stocked Jackson up with food, did a final walkthrough with Brax and his two adorable kids, and now we're standing in his bedroom.

Staring at the plain mattress that was just delivered.

He doesn't even have a box spring or a frame. Just a queen-sized mattress on the ground. The new blue bedding he picked out is sitting in a bag on the floor next to it but neither of us have made the move to unpack it. I'm not sure what's holding us back.

Or do I?

My stomach is in knots standing next to him. A bedroom is such a vulnerable place in a person's house. You sleep there, unconscious to what may be happening around you. You dress, exposing yourself to the four walls surrounding you and possibly to whoever you may allow entrance. Special memories are stashed here, kept in closets or drawers, photo album and frames. This is where things are hidden, if you have things to hide.

And I'm standing in the middle of Jackson's sanctuary. He hasn't even ventured into mine. Not that I feel the need to keep him out, but it feels strange to me when my mom is around to drag Jackson back to my room. I don't even know how to navigate taking a guy into my bedroom. Yet here I am standing in his.

Jackson makes the first move. He picks up the bag of bedding.

"I probably should have washed these first," he says as he removes the packaging. "Too late now. I guess I could start a load in the morning. Good thing there's a laundry room in the basement."

"Yeah," I say, awkwardly. I grab a pillow and a pillowcase and start stuffing.

"Maybe I should have splurged for the rest of the bed."

I shrug.

"It seemed like a waste of money for something that might be-." Jackson cuts himself off but his hesitation gets my attention.

"Might be what?"

He swallows, not making eye-contact. "Um, not permanent."

My turn to swallow. "Oh." I can't help the disappointment in my voice. I knew this to an extent. I knew that he was trying things out for a while, not knowing how his job would turn out, or if he could make a go of working for himself. To hear it out loud, while standing in his naked bedroom on the first day in his apartment, feels like a blow.

"I shouldn't have said it that way."

I force myself to look at him. "It's okay, Jackson. I know you're still figuring things out." I silently include myself in that statement. We're still learning what we are to each other. It's so early in our relationship, even though we knew each other as kids. So many years apart might as well be like meeting someone for the first time.

Jackson drops the sheet he'd been situating on the bed and walks to stand in front of me. Taking me in his arms and pulling me close.

"That's not what I meant. You are not someone I'm figuring out. I meant, this apartment. This set up." He pulls back to lean down and look me in the eye. "You're way more important than a temporary person in my life."

I nod, needing a second to settle my racing heart. Not that its possible with Jackson this close. He sets everything within me on fire. I can't just douse it on command.