needy ; jack gilinsky

16

jack gilinsky

as i switch out my shirts, i took a glance at my side, which was covered with a large bruise. it looked as if it had been there for days, yet at the touch, it was as if the bruise had formed two seconds ago.

my eyes diverted away from it as soon as i felt a presence shift from the mirror. "that looks painful." my mom says, advancing further in my room until she sat at the corner of my bed.

i give the bruise one last glance before pulling my shirt down, turning towards her. "yeah. it hurts a lot."

she frowns, opening her arms for me. i hesitate before limping towards her. "my baby." she murmurs as i melt into her embrace. "i'm sorry you got hurt."

"it is what it is." i decide, unable to let go of her. to top it off, she comfortingly rubs my back.

"how's school for you, jack?"

"it's alright," i sigh. "it's just..hard lately."

"why?" she asks.

"firstly, i've barely even gone." we'd both chuckled at that. "secondly, i just..i feel lost."

"what do you mean?"

"i don't know if football is something i want to keep doing." i admit. "not that i'll play for the rest of the season, anyways. but i don't want it to be my main focus in college. i'd rather..be something else, you know?"

"like what?" she asks. "have anything in mind?"

"law." i answer a little too immediately, and she glances down at me with curiously.

"how long have you been thinking about that?" she questions, and i could hear her voice softening by the second.

"for a while." i admit. "the thought's been living in my head, and stuff. i still don't know."

"if you want to go for law, i encourage you." she tells me. "really. i think you could do it."

i look up at her with a small smile, "yeah?"

"of course." she nods. "you're very smart, very good at arguing," i give her a look, and she snorts.

"with you, only. everyone else; i'm terrible at it."

"like with amara?"

i hum at the mention of her name, "yeah. the problem with her, though, is that she's always right and it's hard to come up with ways to defend myself."

she's quiet for a few seconds, "she's never wrong?"

"i mean," i pause. "i don't..i don't think i'm understanding enough. or good enough in general."

"you are more than enough." she reminds. "don't ever talk badly about yourself like that. you're enough, maybe just not up to her standard."

i'd told my mom things about amara on impulse, such as when we'd have a fight before i go home and i vent out of anger. she'd only head bad things about her, and there's nobody to blame for that other than myself.

"she doesn't expect much." i admit. "i just think she has trust issues about things and i don't really do anything about them."

"then you should reassure her." she suggests.

"we broke up."

"oh." she mumbles, glancing down at me with her face twisted into a cringe. "i invited her over tomorrow to bring cookies, i hope you don't mind. otherwise i can tell raf."

i felt an ache in my heart at the mention of her, "what? no, it's completely fine."

"i'm not the biggest fan of her right now." she admits. "it seems like she's steering you in the wrong direction."