zuk zuk!

The clear juxtaposition between Ella’s reaction to the collision and sight of her best friend, and Jackson’s reaction to their predicament, was really something else. Where Ella had initially felt humiliated, scrambling to cover herself in whatever way that she could, and hide herself from plain view, Jackson seemed entirely undeterred at the sight of her. She barely even registered the sweet, endearing greeting of hello, Elly (the cute little nickname that only Jackson was allowed to refer to her as, always making her blush and giggle whenever she heard it) as she blinked in surprise.

It didn’t take long for him to call to attention what she was wearing, much to her distress, and she instantly tugged her top down further, hoping that she’d be able to at least safe herself some of the embarrassment. She wasn’t like all of the other cheerleaders; they were beautiful and flawless, with gorgeous frames and confident smiles. They could pull off anything from what she was wearing now, to a trash bag, and still look utterly gorgeous. Ella wasn’t the kind of person that could effortlessly show herself off in such an unapologetic outfit, and she felt all the more embarrassed for ever having thought she could pull it off.

“I do not look hot!” Ella gasped, her eyes wide. She shouldn’t have been surprised at such a notion coming from Jackson; he’d always been much more confident and comfortable in ways that Ella had never been able to mimic.

Sneaking a glance over her shoulder, once more trying to ensure that nobody was around to see them, she bounded forward and, hopping up onto her tiptoes, she slid her palm over her best friend’s eyes, obscuring his vision entirely. Keeping her hand steadily in place, she breathed a sigh of relief, and nodded quite contentedly to herself. “Right. Much better. You can’t seem like this!”

She frowned, then, as the seconds passed, her arm aching with the effort of holding it in place; Jackson was significantly taller than her, and her severe lack of balance meant that she was already wobbling on the spot, and putting herself at risk of toppling to the ground for a second time. Breathing out a huff that one might say was a little petulant for someone as soft and shy as Ella Tremaine, she retrieved her hand and pulled away, shouldering her backpack and wrapping her arms around her torso once more.

She didn’t shy away from Jackson’s touch, allowing him to wrap an arm around her shoulder, and instead she fell carefully into his side, resting her head comfortably against his shoulder and letting him take the lead. This was how it should always have been: Jackson and Ella side by side. It felt right, and she always felt safest knowing Jackson was close by. Even her newfound humiliation was stifled ever so slightly by her indifference toward what Jackson might think. He’d never judged her before, so she couldn’t imagine him starting now.

With a sigh, she slowly started to address his various questions. “I’m fine, yes. Clumsy, an idiot, but fine.”

A short laugh fell from her lips as she glanced up at him. It was in Ella’s nature to be self deprecating, a habit that she’d never managed to locate the off-switch for. Jackson had always scolded her for it, gently as he went about it, and always had some sweet words to lift her up and make her feel good about herself. She wasn’t entirely sure she deserved it, but he was the closest thing she had to family now, and she internally vowed never to take that for granted.

“I’m not joining the pixies, no,” she shook her head. Crinkling her nose up in discomfort, she gave a small shrug as she thought back to the past hour, and how pathetic and weak she’d been. Kim must have thought she was a complete joke for not showing her face! “One of the girls – Kim, red-haired, very pretty? – she invited me along. I… I said I’d give it a go, but. Well, I spent the last hour hiding in a cubicle like the complete coward that I am.”

She sighed, feeling resigned. If there was anybody she could confess her own doubts to, it was always going to be Jackson. With Peyton still keeping something of a distance, Sherrie with her own bigger concerns, and Gus assuring that he’d stay at her side at any given moment, Ella understood that she needed to try harder, and to be there for Jackson where she’d failed to over the years. It was with that realisation that it dawned on her how dismissive she’d been of his words only moments before. Over the past 6 years she’d been so wrapped up in her own problems, that there was still so much of Jackson’s life that had gone amiss to her.

Giving him a gentle nudge in the ribs, she wrapped an arm around his waist as they walked and mused, “What about you? What are you doing here? Did you say… are you a cheerleader?” 

Jackson snickered when Ella pushed herself up onto her tiptoes so she could block his view of her clad in the Pixies outfit. Why, he didn’t know. But he boiled it down to her feeling self-conscious about wearing a skirt that was shorter than anything that he’d seen her in before. He did think she looked hot though, despite her tendency to automatically turn down the compliments he threw freely at her. Arguing against it would only make her blush more, and if he could navigate through this conversation without making Ella turn a deep crimson and spontaneously combusting, then he’d count it as a win.

“Fine, you look ugly,” he told her with an easy smile. He pulled his head back to quickly kiss the palm of her hand, a soft, affectionate action to let her know he was only joking, even though she would already know that.

With Ella tucked safely under his arm, he swung his other arm around her so she was locked snugly into his hug. Rolling his eyes at her words, he ducked his head so she could see the disapproving expression on his face. It wasn’t in Jackson’s nature to let his friends think so lowly of themselves. He was a cheerleader in every way, sprinkling moral support over anyone who needed it, but especially to his best friends.

He listened intently to her story, hopes climbing and falling when she mentioned that she’d at least considered joining. It would have been fun if Ella decided to join the squad so he’d have someone familiar there with him. He loved the other girls that were part of the Pixies, but sometimes he felt a little bit at odds with their dynamic. As if he didn’t quite fit in. Jackson was an adaptable creature and could shed his skin and take on a new façade whenever the occasion called for it, meaning he could easily slip in and out of cliques and pick up new friends as he went, but he’d only really been grounded in his friendship group with Gus, Ella, Peyton and Sherrie. And the foundations for that little gang had crumbled long ago.

“Well, you know what they say,” he said eventually, fixing her with a serious look. “With Kim, anything is Possible.”

It was a joke he’d tried to crack before and Violet had told him to shove a dirty jockstrap in his mouth and never speak again. Like, lovingly. He’d hoped. But maybe he’d have better luck with Ella who had been granted years to grow acquainted with his sense of humour.

“I did say that,” he grinned when Ella cottoned onto his words. He hadn’t realised that this would be such a shock to his friend. He didn’t keep his extra curriculars a secret, often plastering photos from practise all over Instagram and Facebook but, then again, Ella wasn’t the most avid social media user. He shrugged like it was no big deal.

“That’s me. The queer cheerleader. The queerleader,” he added, bobbing his head. Nudging her a little as they began to talk, he wondered why she’d hid out in a cubicle for the past hour.

“It’s not so scary, you know. I mean, Izzy doesn’t bite! None of us do. Except maybe Vi, but I’ll protect you,” he teased. Letting go of Ella, he stepped back and readjusted the strap of his duffle bag.

“Why not give it a try? I’ll help you out with anything you’re struggling with!” He shoved a hand into his pocket and offered his friend a one-shouldered shrug.

“I literally said I was glad to see you.” Peyton intoned, dully. And she was. Really. But she could have done without the big entrance or the attention called to her that resulted from it. 

Her eyebrows slanted sharply down as he spoke. “’What’s this’?” She repeated, tone dark. Waving a hand down at herself, she scoffed at him. “This is me. This is Peyton. This is fucking who I am.” She blew a stream of smoke at him. “Sorry if you were expecting an eight year old, but unfortunately she had to fucking grow up.”

God, she was tired. She felt like she was constantly at war with herself ever since she got back to Cherry Grove. Maybe the person she’d developed into in Texas wasn’t the nicest or the friendliest or the smartest, but at least people hadn’t looked at her with disappointed eyes that remembered a small blonde making daisy chains and setting up tea parties for her dolls. The boys in high school didn’t give two shits whether her hair was natural or dyed as long as she let them put their hands down her pants, the girls who were brave enough to talk to her did and the rest steered a wide berth, and back there that had suited her just fine. Here though, she felt ashamed and then angry - at her friends who made her feel that way and then at herself for being furious with the people she loved.

“It’s fucking cold.” She muttered, mostly to herself since it was a painfully bad retort. There goes Jackson, trying to fix everything. “Whatever. Sure. Coffee’s fine. Just give me a sec, here.” She indicated she was still smoking, although it had almost burned out at this point.

Finally giving in to the pang of regret in her heart at the sight of his disgruntled expression, she sighed. She stabbed out her cigarette and followed him. “J, wait.” She caught his arm, wanting her next move to still be in some form of privacy before they got stuck back in the noise and chaos of the shopping mall. 

He was taller than her now, which shouldn’t have been surprising, but she’d not been there to witness his puberty growth spurt which caught her with her eyeline at his nose. Still, it wasn’t a bad thing because it meant when she awkwardly sneaked her arms around his waist, she could tuck her face into his shoulder and avoid looking at him or the mall entrance or anything else except the darkness provided by her squeezed shut eyes and his hoodie. She wanted to pretend like this was normal for her, that she went around cuddling up to her buddies whenever she felt like it, but she couldn’t make herself relax no matter how much she actually wanted to. 

Once upon a time, Jackson had smelled like dirt and sweat and all manner of other little boy things, but that had never once stopped Peyton from giving him a hug or even a kiss on the cheek which she would then run away screaming from. Now he smelled like laundry detergent and deodorant and adult things, so she couldn’t even pretend to be eight years old, snuggling her best friend and object of her childish affections. 

“I missed you, you piece of shit.” She finally mumbled against the material of his hoodie. Screwing up her eyes didn’t mean she couldn’t feel the sting of tears behind them, but she point blank refused to cry. 

“Yeah, with the same enthusiasm as a Sisters of Mercy fan,” Jackson countered, forehead creasing as he shook his head. He wouldn’t let Peyton make him think that he was overreacting, because he knew fine well that this wasn’t how friends greeted each other after a long time apart. Heck, Gus was treated to cheek kisses and huge, tackling hugs if he spent too long in line at KFC. Jackson just missed people easily.

“People grow up but that doesn’t mean they just forget about their friends,” he argued. He fought to keep the hurt out of his tone but it was hard.

Jackson wasn’t exactly well versed in bottling up his feelings. He was a complete open book, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. Everyone knew when Jackson was sad or happy or angry or even when he was feeling petty. And he was feeling pretty downright petty at that moment as he sulked at Peyton, searching her face for any signs of his best friend. He didn’t want her to suddenly spin around and de-wig herself to reveal a giggling blonde ready for tea parties and games of make believe, but a smile wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Peyton agreeing to grab coffee with him was a small victory, even though the way she relented sounded more like he’d wore her down than her actively wanting to join him. He had to take what he could get at that moment though before he figured out a way to break through the walls Peyton had built up around herself. Was that intrusive? Jackson only meant well, but maybe he was being too pushy. To rectify that, he turned to head back into the mall, figuring that Peyton would still want to give him some sort of wide berth so people wouldn’t think that they were walking together. She’d still have to sit with him in Starbucks, but her current mood meant he’d ruled out asking the barista to print a cutesy or embarrassing nickname on her coffee cup.

Just as he’d turned though, he heard it. The initialled nickname that was so generic, but also gave him the first pang of hope he’d felt since Peyton had thrown a teddy bear at him.

Turning, eyes wide, he didn’t bother to hide his expression. It wasn’t like he could if he tried anyway. He stayed still as Peyton walked forward a little hesitantly before eventually sliding her arms around him in her own mimicry of a hug.

A smile burst onto Jackson’s face and he returned the gesture with a puppylike enthusiasm, pulling the girl into him and hugging her tightly around the shoulders. The hug was a little stiff, and not as warm as their old cuddles used to be, but Peyton was still hugging him and admitting that she missed him and Jackson smiled and pressed his nose into her coloured and unfamiliar hair. He giddily swayed from side to side, shifting one foot to the other and rocking Peyton with him.

“I missed you too,” he grinned. He could hear the strain in her voice and figured that this Peyton probably didn’t let anyone else see her cry, but Jackson hadn’t taken those same steps to maturity so when he eventually let go of Peyton he wiped at his eyes and sniffed lightly. It was no secret that he’d missed Peyton, but Jackson hadn’t even realised how much until she’d allowed herself to hug him.

“So, coffee?” he asked her, offering her his hand and wiggling his fingers.

Jackson: gasp, is it someone’s birthday today?

Jackson: someone with chocolatey brown eyes, exquisite dental work and adonis like abs?

Jackson: if it’s true, that can only mean it’s one person’s birthday!!!

Ella: I didn't want to overwhelm anybody, but I thought it necessary to remind you all that I love you very much.

Peyton wanted out of the shopping mall as soon as physically possible, if not faster. For one, her breaks were the chance she got to smoke - thanks to Ethan, brother #4, for inviting her to start that vice. When Peyton had first moved in with her dad’s family, she’d jumped at any opportunity that appeared to try fit in with her brothers. Through their various hobbies, she’d picked up skills in football, boxing, a whole host of sports, but their bad habits had seemed so cool when she was a teenager that she was desperate to join in with those too. So when she’d caught Ethan behind the bleachers in high school smoking his way through a pack, she’d gladly accepted his bribe of a cigarette to stop her telling his mom and their dad. She’d never have dared snitched - snitches got stitches among the brothers and just because she was a girl didn’t meant they’d go easy on her - but sneaking off to smoke with her Ethan till he went off to college gave them something in common other than half a gene pool and once he’d gone she’d never managed to kick the habit.

For another, there was quite a stir behind her in Buildabear which she believed Beau would downplay for her, but until then she wanted to be out of the line of fire from their manager. Not that the doddery bastard had a clue what to do with the permanently angry woman with no customer service skills whatsoever that he’d hired in a fit of desperation, but right now summoning even an eyeroll as a response to his huffing and puffing and reminders of their young customers seemed like too much effort. 

She would have thought this would have been obvious to Jackson, since he had always been something of a ringleader and the smartest in their group, but clearly not. 

“Yeah well when you’re the only fucking blonde around the family dinner table and you leave in back-fucking-ass-wards Texas for thirteen years, shit like that tends to happen.” She snapped as she root marched him to the entrance of the mall, only to be stopped when he pulled back with a surprising amount of his own. “What the fuck, Jackson?”

She froze as soon as the words left her mouth. The first few months living with her dad, she had tantrum after tantrum demanding to go back to her friends, screaming their names through red-faced tears which the child therapist put down to grief over the loss of her mother and the sudden upheaval of her life. Since speaking about them had got her sent to help the first time, she’d never brought them up again, leaving her wonderings and musings about how they were doing firmly inside her head. As a result, it had been so long since she’d spoken any of their names out loud, bar Sherrie the other day, that she barely recognised it when mangled with the Southern accent she so often forgot she’d developed. 

Fidgeting beneath his concerned gaze, she rolled her eyes and glared at him. “I am glad to see you, fuckwit.” She huffed. “Can we please just go outside? Especially if you’re gonna get all… emotional at me.” 

Without waiting for his response, she stalked off through the automatic doors and out into the frosty January sunshine. In only her Buildabear shirt, she was freezing, but she wasn’t about to slink back to the store for her leather jacket. She tucked herself out of the way of the entrance, pulling a cigarette and her lighter from her back pocket. Taking a deep pull, she breathed a cloud of smoke back into the air and watched it swirl away from her with distant eyes. She knew she was probably being unfair to Jackson, but it’d been a long time she’d interacted with someone in a friendly way. Her brothers had had their moments of camaraderie, but the second they no longer needed a goalkeeper or sparring partner, she was stuck on her own again. There was no reason to think Jackson wasn’t going to abandon her too once the shiny newness of her coming home had worn off, so he might as well know what he was dealing with from now upfront.

Noticing the man himself had followed her out, she tipped her head back against the wall of the mall, then rolled her neck so she could look at him, still watching her with his worried little gaze.

“What?” She asked, sharply. 

When Peyton stormed off, Jackson had second thoughts about following her. He wanted to tell himself that she was just having an off day as most people were prone to do. Or maybe if he went back home, slept this weird mood off then he’d wake up to find that Peyton was still back in town, but acting like her regular blonde-haired self instead of this angry, hostile brunette marching away from him. He hesitated on the spot for a moment, but she’d asked if they could go outside, so he figured he wouldn’t be imposing if he went after her.

Stepping out into the cool January air was a welcome change. The mall had been stifling, even though he was sure that was probably just down to the tense atmosphere engulfing both him and Peyton. Hovering anxiously a few feet away, he watched as Peyton drew a cigarette and lighter out of her pocket. That was new as well, but less surprising than the brand new attitude. People grew up and developed bad habits; Jackson’s was fucking away any real feelings, and Peyton’s was apparently smoking. He’d hold his tongue about the issue as long as she never lit up around Sherrie.

As soon as she snapped at him, he let out a small, petulant huff. “What do you mean what?” he asked. He gestured to her with a hand and frowned. “What is this? What’s with the hostility? I mean, this doesn’t have to be a Homeward Bound reunion, but I figured we could at least hug.”

He tried and failed to keep the hurt out of his voice. Casting his mind back to what Peyton had said about being the only blonde at the family table helped him realise that the move to Texas had been the driving force behind his friend’s sudden change in demeanor. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but it helped Jackson slide all the pieces together anyway. But did that mean she had to act like he was a problem? He knew she’d turned angrier since her mother had died, and he couldn’t fault her for that. But Ella had gone through the same thing and had never found reason to shout at Jackson. Sherrie’s much more logical voice of reason in the back of his head told him that people had different ways of grieving and he tried to accept that, but he’d never been good at letting his friends go through something alone. 

And standing out in a family with backwards views? Jackson could relate. He wanted to tell Peyton that, but voicing that aloud would be like coming out all over again and he didn’t know if he was ready to tell Peyton that just yet. He’d managed to tell Ella, Gus and Sherrie all at once, but the distant look on Peyton’s face just seemed to highlight the face that they were practically strangers at that moment.

“You have goosebumps,” he pointed out stupidly, noting the raised skins of her arms. It was chilly out and Peyton only wore a thing t-shirt. Normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to offer up his hoody to keep the cold at bay, but he figured this would just give Peyton another excuse to shoot him down.

Bravely, he braced himself for another biting rejection again and asked, “How about you let me buy you a coffee? Or hot chocolate, or anything to warm you up.”

Unconventional as it may be – and it had been a long and bumpy road getting even here – Ella’s life had, in a lot of ways, taken a turn for the better in recent months. Though it hadn’t been easy gaining the courage to go behind her step mother’s back, she’d known that it was the right thing to do. Lying didn’t come easily to Ella, but she wasn’t destined for a life of being trodden on and treated like dirt. She wasn’t put on this earth to waste away her days in an old, dusty attic, or scrubbing floors and exhausting herself beyond belief. It wasn’t for Ella – or anyone – to spend her days being ridiculed and taunted, abused both emotionally and physically, by a woman who, quite frankly (and, oh, it pained Ella to even think such a thing), wasn’t of any relevance to her or the rest of the world. No, Lady Tremaine was a ghastly, rotten woman, whose manipulation had gotten the better of Ella’s lovely father, and while she knew that she had been continually weak, and still remained so, in crumbling under her orders, she wasn’t going to let her take over her life. She would be free of her some day, she was determined. It was, of course, that very same determination that was the driving force behind Ella’s guilt, most especially her shame and heartache at the thought that Anne and Diana, in particular, had been subjected to their mother’s frightful nature for their whole entire life.

That being said, of course, there was only so much that she could do; and when it was well out of her own powers, as of right now, to help even herself, it pained her to know that there wasn’t anything she could do for the two girls who were so opposed to Ella’s presence in their life in the first place. No, instead, Ella knew that she had to focus on herself first and foremost, even if it took every inch of bravery that she could muster up. It was with that resolve that had driven her to applying for a place at College in the first place, and it was that same resolve that motivated her every single day. It had come as nothing but a shock to Ella to find that, upon attending classes and encouraging herself to get out of the house more, she’d actually made friends. With Jackson and Gus slowly rejoining her at her side whenever they could, and with Sherrie and Peyton now back in the picture, Ella was utterly overwhelmed by all of her luck. By no means was anything easy right now – certainly not with the underlying anguish that accompanied she and all of her childhood friends, nor the state of their now fractured group – but she liked to believe that things were looking up.

It was with that optimism that had driven Ella to where she was today. When Kim had, quite eagerly, encouraged her to come along to cheer practice and see how she liked it, Ella had been reluctant. After 6 years of being holed up and hidden away in darkened rooms with only the occasional escape out civilisation, her bones were ever so slightly weaker than those of the once active, upbeat girl that she’d been in her youth. Not to mention the additional fear of being teased, taunted, laughed at, and ridiculed if she were to make even the slightest mistake (which was inevitable). What if people saw her, and mocked her? She wasn’t sure that she could handle any further humiliation.

So, despite telling Kim that she’d try her best, and that she would see the other girl out on the field in time for cheer practice, Ella had bunched up the fabric of the tiny, skimpy outfit that she’d been handed, held it close to her chest, and had hidden herself away in a lonely cubicle in the girl’s bathroom. She hadn’t wanted to venture towards the girl’s locker room, thinking that she’d have far more hope in squeezing herself into the outfit and plucking up the courage to actually join them if she didn’t have all eyes on her from the moment she wrestled her way out of her sweater.

She had been wrong, however, as Ella hadn’t ever made it past that cubicle. She’d stayed, holed up inside, her knees to her chest as she sat atop the toilet seat and waited anxiously for the day to come to an end. It had been a ridiculous, pathetic endeavour, and she wasn’t sure why she’d ever been so stupid as to think she could ever be like the pixies. Still, with bated breath she waited as she heard the telltale giggles and chattering of excitable girls as they returned to the locker room after practice, and again she waited for the chorus to die down as they all said their goodbyes and made their way home.

Ten minutes passed, and then twenty, as Ella ensured that the coast was finally clear, and that there wasn’t another girl in sight. Not thinking to change out of her silly outfit, she clambered off of the seat and poked her head around the cubicle door, breathing a sigh of relief as she noticed that there wasn’t a girl in sight. Edging her way out of the bathroom and into the locker room, she was finally able to relax as it dawned on her that she really was alone; not a pixie in sight. There was nobody around to see her in her ridiculous outfit, and nobody to mock her for her failed efforts. She could now gladly get herself home and shred the awful attired that was clinging to her skin, making her feel as though she’d never even remotely fit in within a squad such as their own.

Just as she was exiting the locker room, entirely distracted as she rummaged through her hello kitty backpack in an attempt to retrieve her sweater – a pink, knitted piece that had belonged to her mother; it had always been Ella’s go-to item of clothing, even now when it was fraying at the edges – she failed to notice another figure turning the corner, and slammed head first into the approaching person.

Letting out a loud oomf, a pathetic whimper falling from her lips, Ella slipped, losing her balance entirely and stumbled a few feet before landing hastily on her knees. Groaning, she crinkled her nose in discomfort as she scrambled back up onto her feet and whirled around to issue an apology to the poor soul that she’d just crashed into.

“Goodness, I’m so so–” she started, before cutting herself off as the stranger swam into view. Her eyes grew wide with recognition, and she instinctively brought a hand around her middle, covering her bare midriff, as her other hand gripped tightly onto her rucksack. “Jackson!?!” 

If Jackson moaned, he knew he’d be done for. It was hard to keep quiet though when Kevin’s teeth were nipping at his neck, sucking a bruise that he’d blame on some nobody at a gay club if anyone asked. He sank his own teeth deep into his bottom lip, knowing he’d be sure to draw blood if he bit any further. His hands gripped the other boy’s football jersey and he muffled a soft groan against Kevin’s cheek, lips brushing stubble before Kevin’s lips moved away from his neck and onto Jackson’s own. His tongue slid against the football player’s and he breathed heavily and hotly, arching up against the number ‘15′ emblazoned across Kevin’s chest in solid block numbers, solidifying him as part of a team that knew nothing about the locker room trysts between one of their star players and the male cheerleader he made fun of.

The clatter of the door against its hinges signaled that the last player had left, leaving Jackson to whine a keening moan into Kevin’s mouth. The other boy’s fingers dug roughly into his hips and a smile played on Jackson’s lips as he let his head fall back against the wall of their cubicle.

“And you’re sure you’re straight?” he teased the other boy. He supposed he deserved the glare he got and softened his words with a brief peck. But Kevin didn’t do soft, sentimental pecks. Just rough sex and hickeys while still claiming he ‘didn’t like dudes’. Jackson knew better than to argue so he kept quiet and got his own whenever Kevin dragged him off somewhere secret to unbuckle his belt. It wasn’t fulfilling like the sort of dreamy relationships Ella used to wax lyrical about, but Jackson didn’t exactly have a long line of guys queuing up to pursue something like that with him.

“I’m leaving,” Kevin announced, pulling back and running the pad of his thumb against the love bite on Jackson’s neck. There was a small twinge of pain, but nothing Jackson didn’t enjoy. Maybe he really was depraved. When Kevin turned, he quickly darted out a hand to slap the guy’s ass, a smug smile stretching across his face when Kevin flinched.

“Good game.” Jackson accompanied his words with a wink. There was a strange fluttering in his chest when he saw Kevin’s lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile, before it was replaced with a scowl. He pushed the weird feeling in his chest away. He wasn’t going to go down that road.

Watching as Kevin grabbed his stuff and pushed his way out of the locker room, Jackson lingered for a little bit longer. Apparently, it would look two suspect if two guys left a locker room together - a heterosexual path of logic that Jackson couldn’t begun to understand - so he made do with changing out of his cheer top and into a tight-fitting V-neck, pulling the collar of it down slightly so he could inspect the purpling bruise blooming on his neck in the mirror. He sort of hated that he liked it so much and uncurled his fingers from his shirt so the elastic could ping the material back into place.

He grabbed his duffle bag from the bench after stuffing his sweaty uniform into it and slung it over his shoulder, fishing his phone out of his pocket so he could check Pinterest for new recipes as he walked out the building. He was busy screenshotting the ingredients for banana nut muffins when someone crashed into him from the side. He stumbled in surprise, executing a quick one-two step before veering off to the left with his hands raised in surrender, but he wasn’t the one worse off in the collision. The girl that had bumped into him was now crouched on the ground, and if Jackson didn’t already recognise the blonde hair, then the way she was mumbling apologies was all too familiar to him.

“Hello, Elly!” he grinned when she spotted him. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder before noticing her attire and raising an eyebrow.

“What are you wearing?”  he asked in surprise. “I mean, I have that exact same outfit in my bag. Minus the skirt, ‘cause Violet says I don’t have the legs for it, but I know for a fact I didn’t see you out there at practise. So, what’s going on? Are you joining the ranks or do you just like the outfit? I don’t blame you, you look hot.”

He smiled warmly and slung an arm around his best friend’s shoulders. “That was some spill, by the way,” he pointed out. “You okay?”

Peyton hated her job. She’d had it just over two weeks, but she hated it with everything she had - and when you were as angry as Peyton Pearlman, you had a big fucking capacity for hate. She hated the children with their tantrums over the store being out of stock of princess tutus or because their bear wasn’t fuzzy enough, she hated the parents who simpered and mollycoddled their spawn even as she screamed themselves red. In her house - or rather, her dad’s house - if you cried over nothing, you got ignored till you pulled yourself together and were ready to behave. Screaming was only allowed in the yard and she’d needed it be heard over the shouts of five older brothers, but she’d never have dared pull shit like the brats she was dealing with recently did. 

It had been the only job available at the time, and she’d only planned to stop in Cherry Grove if her friends were all still here. She’d half expected them to have gone off to different colleges or something - in her mind when she’d been growing up across the country from them, she’d sometimes imagine what they’d be getting up to. Obviously, Ella would be at some form of fashion school, which once Peyton might not have been opposed to although after stabbing her finger eight times sewing in stupid felt hearts was wearing away her love for sewing. Gus would be training as a chef or something, Sherrie performing on the biggest stages the world had to offer. Who the fuck knew what Jackson would be doing, but he’d probably be charming his way through it as always. 

She figured she’d stay in the town a month or two, catch up with them if they were here and move on if they weren’t. If she couldn’t find them, there was no chance she’d stick around. The only hope she had of not sinking into the bad memories she had of Cherry Grove was by hoping the good ones with her childhood friends would outweigh them.

So here she was, jamming a teddy that was abandoned by its creator after it spotted a different one onto a shelf in the hope that her bleeding index finger wasn’t going to be for nothing and someone would buy the pile of fluff already made. She’d found Sherrie, and Jackson had found her, but Gus was nowhere to be seen (probably stuck in a doorway or something, poor fucker) and no one would mention Ella which made the anger Peyton has been counselled unsuccessfully in managing to boil up. She checked her watch, seeing she had a minute until break, and tried once again to squash the deserted bear onto the shelf when she heard a voice behind her. 

Turning around, bear still in hand, she looked blankly at the guy who had obviously just spoken and was now looking at her expectantly. In fact, a few people were looking at her now. Obviously with Valentine’s coming up, people were expecting some sort of romantic reunion after such a bold statement. Unfortunately for them, Peyton didn’t do romantic and so far she wasn’t loving the reunion. Trust Jackson to make a scene when she was already in a bad mood.

“Shut the fuck up!” She hissed, way too loud apparently as one or two parents clapped their hands over the ears of their accompanying sprog. Clearly, she was getting called into the manager’s office next week. Since the bear in her hand hadn’t been willing to go on the shelf, she threw it at Jackson instead, taking great satisfaction when it bounced off his head. She hadn’t thrown footballs so her brothers could practise their team strategies without picking up a pretty wicked aim. 

“I’m going on break.” She announced loudly, catching Beau’s eye and taking her muffled laughter as an acknowledgement. As she stormed past Jackson on her way out of the store, she grabbed his arm hard and yanked him after her with a good deal of strength. “Come on, you fucking asshat.”

The smile was wiped clean off Jackson’s face when Peyton turned and shot him down where he stood. He’d strode into the store practically beaming and was left frowning as he stared at a girl who looked like his old pal, but definitely wasn’t acting like it. No matter how much the two of them had changed since their days of building clubhouses and eating themselves sick with too much ice cream, Jackson had still thought that Peyton would at least have a smile for him. It had been years after all, but he hadn’t let that lead him to believe anything had changed between them.

“Um,” was the only eloquent thing he could think of to say in response. All around him customers were gasping and pulling their children closer to them as a bear went flying through the air. Jackson didn’t manage to duck out of the way in time. His reflexes were great for catching Izzy when she deliberately dropped from the pyramid to his waiting arms below, but didn’t extend to catching a football when it was hurled at him (Morley had great fun with that) and, evidently, rogue teddy bears thrown by his best friends. Was she still his best friends?

The whole scene was puzzling to everyone who watched it unfold, even though Jackson thought that he was much more at liberty to be confused than the people browsing the Build-a-Bear stock. They continued to gape at the pair, utterly appalled, all except another Build-a-Bear employee who was shoving teddy bear stuffing in front of her face to hide her laughter.

Hope flared in Jackson’s chest when Peyton marched towards him and logic struggled to make itself heard. He genuinely thought she might be purposefully striding over to hug him and was disappointed when she grabbed onto his arm instead and hauled him out of the shop with her bruising grip.

“Okay, so you look like Peyton - albeit wearing a wig - and you sound like Peyton in a Western movie, but you’re not exactly acting like Peyton,” Jackson piped up as he stumbled after the girl. He wondered if she’d acted this way around Sherrie when the two met up again, but he hadn’t stuck around long enough for Sherrie to explain, too busy trying to find out how he could get in contact with Pey again. 

He stopped in his tracks, hoping that would get Peyton to stop as well. He’d never been the strongest when they were younger, too skinny and small to be anything close to assertive, but cheerleading practise had helped him tone up and develop some muscles that he hoped would weigh in on his current situation. Digging his heels in the ground, he refused to walk anymore and used the hand Peyton wasn’t dragging along to rest on top of hers.

“Hey! Peyton, hey!” he said. “Act like you’re glad to see me, huh?” He huffed out a laugh, trying to make his words sound playful and joking but his smile was strained and he was still eyeing her worriedly.

Their brief Twitter interaction had felt a little... off to the boy. Tone was hard to read over the medium of the internet though and he boiled Peyton’s unenthusiastic reaction to his online appearance down to that, but doubt continued to niggle at the back of his head. They’d all grown up after all and, try as Jackson might, he couldn’t make everything return to the way it used to be when they were kids. He couldn’t bring Ella’s parents back from the dead and kindly tell her stepmother to ‘fuck off’, he couldn’t give Sherrie a new set of lungs that wouldn’t be in constant danger of killing her and he had once thought that he couldn’t drag Peyton back from the new town that had taken her away from him. Until now.

Hearing that Peyton Pearlman was back in Cherry Grove was headline-worthy news to Jackson. It almost felt like they were getting the whole gang back together now. He still saw everyone on what he tried to make a regular basis, but between Sherrie’s hospital appointments and Ella getting called away to do her step-family’s bidding and Peyton being unreachable in a completely different state, it had been downright impossible. Gus had always been there as Jackson’s constant and the closest thing the boy would ever have to a brother (completely ignoring the fact that Jackson already had two brothers, but it’s not like they were Gus) but as much as he downright adored that little cheese-loving goofball, Jackson and Gus were only two slices in the pie that made up their gang of tearaways, and nostalgia prevented the boy from allowing anyone else to fill those spaces.

The sign for Build-a-Bear was spotted a few stores down and he picked up his pace. The quicker he got there, the quicker he could see Peyton and hug her and cling onto the memories of his old friendship group and make the possibility of creating new memories with them seem even more tangible. 

Jogging for a few seconds then skidding to a halt outside the shop, he peered inside but couldn’t find Peyton. That was, until a girl with dyed hair turned around so he could see her face. He wasn’t sure what had landed on Peyton’s hair and swallowed up all the blonde in its wake, but he didn’t hate it. In fact, Peyton was making it work and a grin spread across Jackson’s face at the sight of her. She’d definitely grown into her gangly limbs, even though he wasn’t sure he could say the same for himself.

“Is that my girl?” he called, stepping into the store and making his presence known. A few people lifted their heads to stare at him, but he only had eyes for the girl who looked like she was three seconds away from stabbing the teddy bear she was holding.

@peytonsays: @zukzukjackson yeah sure you did bucko