Seven Twenty-Eight

12.

"Oliver."

He lifted his head, taking his already confused gaze off of the text to look up at the surprising visitor. "Are you talking to me? Like actually talking to me?" He taunted, folding his hands over his book, "And by my first name nonetheless— Are you feeling okay?"

Jackson stared back at him blankly, completely unamused by the attempted shot at his temper. "Come on, Ol," He sighed deeply, "I really need someone to talk to."

"Okay?" Oliver frowned, shrugging his shoulders, "Go talk to your roommate— Or your girlfriend?" He suggested, "Hell, go pester Mary, I don't care."

"No, man," Jackson huffed, "I need to talk to you."

Oliver nodded, moving his hands as he redirected his attention back to his work. "I'm sure you do, Jack," He retorted, "But it appears every time we talk, you find a new way to accuse of trying to steal your girlfriend. So I'm done with that."

Jackson bit his bottom lip, hesitating to move around the table. He pulled out the chair beside him and threw himself down, leaning around to try to catch his gaze. "Oliver, seriously," He grumbled, "It's about her."

Oliver looked at him from the side, peering over with a the faintest glare in his eye. "What could you possibly need to talk to me about in regards to Elisa?" He scoffed.

"I fucked up," Jackson mumbled, turning away as he bit the pad of his thumb.

"I have no doubt about that," Oliver sighed in defeat, officially turning his attention away from his notes, "What does it have to do with me?"

Jackson dropped his hand from his mouth, tapping a simple beat onto the hardwood as he thought. His leg bounced, giving Oliver another sign of her angst, though he said nothing.

He rolled his eyes, pushing his pencil back to start over on the sentence he was reading. "Yeah, okay," He muttered, "I thought so-"

"I cheated on her," Jackson blurted out, turning his body toward him again.

Oliver's face fell briefly, before recovering with her eyebrows furrowed together. He whipped his head over to look at him, a harsh glare in his eyes. "You fucking what?"

Jackson's eyes widened when Oliver looked at him the way he did, the full effect of his potential consequence clicking in his head. "Fuck," He groaned, dropping his head down into his hand, "I know— Fuck, I know. I-I was so drunk and-"

"You asshole," Oliver snapped, causing a few heads to turn, and he quickly lowered his voice again, "You're seriously trying to excuse-"

"I'm not trying to excuse anything," Jackson quickly defended himself, "I know I royally fucked up, okay?"

Oliver bit his tongue, refraining from snapping at him again.

"I don't know what happened," He sighed deeply, "We were doing so good and after that first month everything just fell apart."

"'Cause she found out you lied to me about having sex with her?" Oliver asked dryly, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Jackson pressed his lips together, staring back at him in awe.

"Mary has a big mouth," Oliver shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "You fucked up pretty bad there, so good luck recovering from that— Clearly you can't last long without sticking your dick somewhere warm so-"

"I've recovered pretty well, thank you," Jackson smirked, returning to a strong posture as he punched back, "She's a quick learner— I almost feel bad you'll never get the opportunity to see how good she takes it."