Slowing my pace, I allow Jackson to step up next to me and shoot him a worried look. “I haven’t done shots in… years.” I panic whisper to him. He chuckles in response, placing a hand on my lower back and encouraging me to keep moving. “As long as you want to do one, go for it. I’ve got your back and you deserve to have some fun. You drink and dance as much as you want to, and only because you want to,” he says with gentle affirmation. “And I’ll be right here, looking out, and waiting to bring you home.” Any hesitancy that creeped its way in, melts away at his words.
