"Hey," I say with a soft knock on the door.

The door is swung open, and I see a grinning Jack, my heart stutters. We stand there for a few seconds 'till he chuckles and opens the door fully for me to enter.

"I didnt expect you to actually come."

"I didnt expect you to live in an actual white picket fence house, but here we are," I joke and step inside.

"We're not playing out of school, right?" He sits on his bed with a soft smile.

"I'm not here to pretend, why can't we be friends?"

I lean against the wall across from him, admiring his very neat room. I expected a mess, more football stuff, and maybe a gaming setup. But instead, I find more basketball than football, and every part of his room is tidy, and even a full bookcase. What else is different about him?

"Friends is fine... Take a seat, you're making me feel awkward."

I laugh and sit beside him, turning towards him.

"So, what really happened to your head? You're downplaying this a lot right now."

He rolls his eyes and the mood changes. He gripped his hands together and stared at the floor. After a pause, I found out he went drinking with the guys. He got into an altercation, and he was hit once by a fist. It brought him down thanks to the alcohol. The next thing he remembers is waking up in the hospital. Later on, the boys told him he tried to get up but the guy attached him. The man grabbed an empty glass and smashed Jack's head with it, which is why he needed the stitches. Jack kept on getting hit, and then finally one of the guys was able to get to his side and get the man off him.

"If I was sober I would've been able to take them all."

"I know you could've, but you didnt. You know, maybe this happened for a reason. To tell you to stop picking fights."

"I didnt start this one."

I laugh. "That's funny."

He turned to me with a serious look, so I stopped joking. I listened.

"This guy was talking about doing something bad to this girl who had just left for the bathroom. I tried to tell him otherwise, and then he actually did it. The girl wasn't going to defend herself, she was drunk with her friends. So I stopped him. I was trying to do something good. The girl is okay, me and the guys are okay."

I believe him. He may be fucked up but he's not that fucked up. We all know his past, so protecting a girl is kind of unbelievable, but I really think he's changed. I'd like to take some credit for that, but I can't take credit for someone changing themself into a better person. I do believe he would protect a girl, because of his new change.

"I believe you," I say, looking at my hands. "You've changed a lot, you've done more good than bad recently. I'm proud of you, even if that means nothing to you. I am proud of you. And, I'm happy to be your fake boyfriend."

And I've brought us back to the nice mood, I congratulate myself. I enjoy his laughter, it's not wicked like it used to be. He's changed. Thank God.

"Will you be coming back to school soon, or laying low?"

"I'll be going right back, they say I have a concussion but I dont know, I haven't had one before."

"Really? There's no way. You play sports, you have to have experienced one before."

"Nope," he laughs, "Never."

"That's bullshit, I have and I dont play sports. I have many times."

"Oh yeah, how?" He grins, "Mac got some secrets?"

I laugh. I can't tell the truth to this guy. My chemo and radiation made me pass out a lot, and smacking my head ended up giving me many concussions.

"Nice try, personal stuff."

His smile drifts away, and I think I set it off. His curiosity about my personal life is off-putting, but not in a bad way. I almost want to tell him, about everything. My past, my cancer, my life expectancy, everything. Instead, I change the subject.

"I thought you'd have a "football jock" room."

"My truth is I love basketball, but I suck at it. Football is okay, I'm great at it, and people love me for it, but I would rather not play. I like having people proud of me, and sports is a big way to do that. But, if it were any sport, then I would choose basketball. Plus my parents are gung-ho about me being in sports."

"Then stop football, try something different."

"I already have a scholarship, they want me for my sports. I dont know if I'm going to accept it though. My parents are pushy about it though."

I nod, but he doesn't seem happy about the scholarship.

"You're pretty smart, too. You'll be fine," I try to encourage him. "Where is it?"

"In California."

I get it now. That's a long stretch away. A long trip. It'd be impossible to travel back and forth except on holiday breaks.

"Oh."

"Yeah, there are too many important people here, I got to stay. I don't care that it's a football scholarship, I hate how it's so far away. Plus, it's a Christian college for white people and shit. I am very much mixed, and very much an atheist. So, I keep telling my parents no, which pisses off my dad."

"I get it. I might not have experienced it, but I understand how hurt you must feel."

He watched me for a minute, and I watched his hands. I watched him spin his thumbs and listened to his relaxed breathing. "I've shared a lot about my life now, can I hear something about you?

I think and think.

"My parents aren't pushy about college, we dont have the funds, and I have too much personal shit going on to even think about college. I dont want people to look down on me, or pity me. So I keep my personal life separate from my social life. Can you understand that? Sometimes, some things hurt to share. I just..."

I stop talking entirely, his hand reaches my shoulder, my left shoulder. I move back, but to show I didn't have bad intentions I lay my hand on his.

"Sometimes, it's almost impossible to tell people things, because you care for them too much and you don't want that relationship to change. And, sometimes life can beat a person to death, and they get brought back by an unknown source. Now, they feel obligated to fight for the rest of their life, be it short or long. What I really mean to tell you is, I'm not ready to share some of my life with you. I'm safe, I promise. But," I yawn out. "Apparently holding back from telling you is making me tired," I laugh. "When the time is right, I'll tell you. But not right now."

He seemed content with that answer and grabbed my hand back.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you?" He smiled gently at me, his thumb rubbing against my wrist in comfort. This is different from our pretend, and it's different than friends. So, what is it?