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. Compa.s.sion 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 gla.s.ses 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, and now, when he'd offered his friendship and the sharing of music and his awesome guitar, I'd pounced all over him. What was wrong with me? Did I really have a need to mess everything up? I remembered what Lacey had said about s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up friendships.

With a deep sigh, I placed his guitar down beside me on the couch and stood as Jackson walked around the corner holding two gla.s.ses filled with ice and water. Probably he wanted to dump it over my head. Calm down my hormones or something.

"Hey. What's up?" he asked, glancing at his guitar.

I swallowed a lump. "I, uh, put your guitar down carefully. Don't worry. I love it. It's awesome, but, um, I have to get going." I stared at the ground. "I kind of forgot I was supposed to help my grandma with some stuff tonight."

"You were?" He walked forward and put the gla.s.ses down on the coffee table in front of the couch. "You're sure? Let's have a drink of water first. Talk about this. We need to talk."

I bit my lip and forced a smile. "No. No. It's okay. Really. I'm late. I totally forgot. I have to get going. My grandma is really strict. She'll kill me if I'm any later." I wrung my hands together nervously. "Um. I love your guitar. Thanks for showing me." I coughed. "Uh. I'll get my cell from my backpack and call a cab." I grabbed my guitar case from the floor.

Jackson waved his hand in the air, dismissing me. "Jaz. We really need to talk."

No. I didn't want to do that. Not at all. I didn't need more humiliation. "No. No. I have to go. Now. I'll call a cab."

He crossed his arms. "Forget it. I'll drive you home."

I nodded, embarra.s.sed. Truthfully, I didn't have much cash on me or else I would have insisted.

Jackson reached over and grabbed his guitar from the couch. "I'm sorry...I want to tell you...I have to..."

"No, no," I interrupted. I so did not need an explanation of why kissing me revolted him. I forced a smile. "It's fine. I just have to get home." I took my guitar and hurried to the hallway and slipped on my shoes. I opened the door and stepped out into the main hallway, not wanting to be alone with him for another second. I slung my backpack over my other shoulder, clutching the strap close to my chest.

"s.h.i.t. Just a sec," he called and rushed to his room with his Martin. When he came out of the apartment, I dashed toward the elevator as he locked up. I pushed the b.u.t.ton and he joined me. I wished I could shrivel up and disappear into a layer of wrinkles, unrecognizable as my seventeen-year-old self and like one of the old people who lived there.

"Hey," Jackson said. "I didn't mean to freak you out. It's not what you think. I have some things to work out."

I cringed, imagining his impending "I only like you as a friend" speech, and attempted a fake laugh. "Don't worry." I jumped as my cell started ringing in my backpack pocket. I'd never been so happy to get a call in my whole life.

I made a big production of answering my call, and the elevator finally arrived. We stepped inside as I said, "h.e.l.lo?"

"Jasmine. Where are you? You didn't let me know where you were headed after karaoke." Grandma sounded panicky.

I opened my mouth to calm her, but she kept talking.

"It's your mom, sweetie. She's gone into labor. Hard and fast labor."

An image of my mom pulling the baby out like she'd threatened to flashed in my head, and I made a face. "But she's not due for a month," I said stupidly.

"Well, apparently this baby is in a hurry. I'm sure it's because your stubborn mother doesn't want a baby shower. Anyway, it's coming."

"Is she all right? I mean, is the baby okay?" Fear stabbed me. "Where's Mom?"

"They're on their way to the hospital. In Pullayup. Her and Simon. I'm on my way too. I'll pick you up. Are you at Grinds? Lacey said you probably went there after karaoke."

I blushed but spun around and glanced at Jackson. He didn't hide his curiosity. "No. I'm with a friend from work."

"Does she have a car? Can she get you to the hospital?" I didn't bother to correct the mistaken gender of my friend.

"Hold on." I covered the mouthpiece. "Could you drop me off at the hospital instead of home?"

"Of course," Jackson said.

I lifted the phone back to my mouth. "Yup, I can get dropped there. Where do I go? Where do I meet you?"

The elevator doors opened, and Jackson led us toward the part of the street where he'd parked his car.

"The Women's Life Care Center. Go to the triage area and tell one of the nurses your mom was brought in and who you are."

I nodded to the phone. "Is she going to be all right, Gram-mommy?" My old pet name for Grandma slipped out.

"I think so." Her voice shook slightly. "The baby's early, but they have amazing doctors and facilities so..." She made a sound like a hiccup.

"Don't worry," I said. "She'll be fine."

"I know. I know. G.o.d. Your mother never does anything according to plan."

She hung up without saying good-bye.

"The baby?" Jackson opened the pa.s.senger door for me and held it, waiting for me to get in.

I put my guitar in the back and climbed in. "It's early." I really wanted the baby to be okay. I sat and lifted a nail to my mouth and started chomping it.

Jackson didn't offer false or empty words. "I'll get you there fast." He looked in the backseat. "You can leave your guitar with me instead of dragging it to the hospital. I'll get it back to you."

I glanced back as he closed the door and went around to the driver side of the car. I wanted to take everything with me and never have to see Jackson again, but dragging the guitar around the hospital wouldn't be appropriate under the circ.u.mstances. Jackson opened his door, jumped in, and revved the engine.

"She's going to be okay. Don't worry." He sounded a little scared himself though, as he put his foot on the gas and drove me toward the hospital. We barely spoke the whole way there. I quietly worried about my mom and her baby and looked out the window, trying not to think about the kiss. The horrible, wonderful kiss that might have ruined everything with Jackson. But I didn't even have time to think about that now.

Things were about to change again.

chapter fourteen.

I found the triage area in the maternity ward and spotted Grandma slouched over in an oversized chair in the waiting room. She looked older and more tired than usual.

"A boy," she said instead of h.e.l.lo. "You've got a baby brother."

A surge of happiness at the news took me by surprise. "Already?" I asked.

Grandma smiled a little sadly but nodded. "He's tiny, and they're in with him, but he's a fighter."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. I think I loved him already. I hadn't expected that. Grandma wrapped her arms around me. It had been a long time since she'd hugged me like that, but I hung on.

"Your mom's doing pretty good too." Grandma pushed me gently away and wiped underneath my eyes. "No tears. This is happy."

Someone cleared their throat behind us, and I turned and saw that a nurse had approached us.

"You're Jasmine?" she asked in a crisp voice. She didn't sound particularly happy about my name. I bobbed my head in response.

"Your mom is asking for you. Come." Without another word, she turned and started to walk the other way.

Grandma marched beside me. The nurse glanced over. "No. Just her. She wants to see her daughter. Alone."

Grandma stopped. "Oh." Her expression stayed neutral. "Oh. Well, maybe I'll go to the gift store then. See if I can pick up something for the baby. You'll stay with your mom until I get back, Jaz?"

I nodded, nervous. Why'd Mom want to talk to me all alone? The nurse tapped her toe up and down so I followed her white running shoes. From behind, I studied her dyed blond hairstyle, which was glued to her head with hair spray. Her body looked angry, bulging out of the burgundy nurse uniform. The corridor we went down smelled like a doctor's office. Same m.u.f.fled sounds and baby cries.

We pa.s.sed the nurses' station and then stepped into a hallway lined with numbered rooms. Women in blue hospital gowns lay in beds in the rooms or sat in rocking chairs beside the beds. Many held tiny babies in their arms. All of them looked tired.

The nurse stopped outside the room at the end of the hall. "She's in there." She gestured at the room with her thumb and scrutinized me. "Your dad is with the baby," she said through pinched lips.

"He's not my dad."

I nervously peeked around the doorway, looking for my mom inside the room.

The nurse tsked and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I guess that's not a surprise."

My insides reeled with unease. "What?"

She crossed her arms, and her lips disappeared into a thin line. "Nothing."

She couldn't be implying what I thought.

"Can you please explain what you mean?" She stepped back at the ferocity of my tone. It stunned both of us.

She glared at me. I glared back.

"You know, it's not like I've never seen that look before. But a tiny little baby doesn't deserve that from someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"You think because he has a black father and a white mother, the baby is bad or evil or something?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." The nurse turned up her nose, but her cheeks got splotchy.

"You know what? I think you do. But it's your problem. Not his." The tiny baby I hadn't even met brought out a protective side of me I hadn't even known existed. I wasn't about to let a stupid nurse label my baby brother.

I stood taller. I decided right then that I'd have to teach him how to handle people like her. Meanwhile, until he was old enough, he'd need someone to stick up for him. I stepped up to the plate. I wouldn't let him deal alone. He'd never be alone. I'd protect him.

Without acknowledging the nurse, I tiptoed inside my mom's maternity room. A blue curtain separated two beds. One was empty, but the bed by the window looked lumpy. I crept toward it.

"Mom?" I whispered.

Her eyes opened, bloodshot and watery as if she'd been on a serious bender.

"Hey," I said, overcome by strange almost motherly feelings for her. I saw the hospital bracelets on her wrist. Two of them. "So you had a baby."

She laughed, but it sounded dry and humorless. "Either that or I got hit by a truck." She sighed as deeply as one of Aretha Franklin's soul-searching songs. "Don't tell Grandma I said that," she told me. "She's probably mad I was only in labor for an hour."

"I hardly think that's what Grandma thinks."

Mom closed her eyes. "Even though he was tiny, it hurt." She paused for a minute. "I hope he's going to be okay. He's really small."

I reached as if to pat her hand, but I pulled back before I touched her. "He'll be okay."

"Simon's in there willing him to good health." She opened her eyes. "He weighs over five pounds. He'll be fine."

Her robotic voice worried me a little. "What's his name?" I asked softly.

She turned her head, looking out the window. "We don't know yet. We haven't agreed on a name. We're talking about it."

I waited, trying to think of something to say. It was like talking to a stranger.

"I wanted to talk to you about something."

I held my breath, waiting to get s.h.i.t for hitting Simon.