"Did I do something wrong?" Jackson asks again, pulling a pair of shorts up over his hips.
The walls thump with the music from downstairs. At some point the songs had changed. More people had arrived. I can hear drunk voices laughing and shouting. I keep my back to Jackson as I pull my own clothes on. "Elara, talk to me."
I do not turn around until I am dressed. "No, you did not do anything. It is not you, Jackson. It is me." I let out a slow breath. "I guess I am just… I don't know, having some stupid crisis a few days before I turn eighteen? Do teenagers even get those?" Jackson hooks a gentle finger under my chin and makes me look up. "I am just tired, Jackson."
"Another time, then?" My head nods before I can think about it. He presses a soft kiss to my forehead and holds me for a moment. "I'll drive you."
