by Anne Jolin
I don’t know what his deal is, and maybe it’s poor character to judge him based on my past experiences, but I don’t give a flying fuck.
Something’s off and I want away from Axel with-no-last-name right fucking now.
Curling his fingers into my hair, he grins a Cheshire smile. “You are so beautiful, Peyton. Men would die for you.” He chuckles. “I bet they already have.”
Does he know? He couldn’t possibly.
“You exaggerate,” I say, pressing my palms flat against his chest.
On the outside, it looks like an act of affection, but the reality is I am bracing myself. He’s much larger than I am, and I need the space between us should anything arise. I can’t knee a man if I’m too close to his body, and the lack of space doesn’t allow for any leverage or momentum for a hit.
He has me right where he wants me.
“Do I?” He dips down, smelling my hair, and I try vehemently not to recoil.
No sudden movements.
Nothing to set him off.
My brain’s working double time on an exit strategy, so I almost miss his next words.
“Belle pétale,” he whispers in French, kissing the top of my head.
No.
It has to be a coincidence.
I open my mouth to ask him. To do the one thing I said I wouldn’t do—provoke him—but my window of opportunity is slammed shut when I see Lennon’s SUV pull into the parking lot.
As if on cue, he releases his hold on me and then steps into the alley.
“Au revoir,” he laughs into the shadows.
No.
It can’t be.
“Who was that?” Lennon asks when I slide into her passenger’s seat.
Looking back towards the alley, I shake my head. “Some sick twist of fate.”
“Uhm . . .”
Morphing my features back into something she’d recognize, I smile. “Also known as creepy Axel from the salon.”
“Oh.” She furrows her brow. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay?
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
Did I lie? I’m not sure.
While sitting in one of the empty salon chairs, I spin it around aimlessly, staring at the design on my cast. The one I was practically through the roof about when I described it to Danika.
She did a flawless job. It was beautiful, and I’d done it just for him.
What a joke. Now, I wished I could scrub it off instead of seeing my stupidity branded on my arm. This morning must have been a fluke, a slipup, something he regretted, and now, I have a bright-pink reminder of that fact that I want him and he doesn’t want me.
“Are you all set to go?” Lennon asks, walking up from the back of the salon.
“Almost.” I glance around the room. “I just have to text Jayden to come get me.” Staring at my iPhone, I will it to implode so I have an excuse not to use it.
Me: I’m ready, but I can just get a ride with Lennon . . .
Leaning her hip against the chair across from me, she smiles sympathetically. “Not going well?”
I shake my head, looking down into my lap.
Jayden: No. I’ll be there in ten minutes.
“You guys seemed . . .”—she pauses to find the right word—“close yesterday.”
I blow out a breath of air. “Yeah. I thought so too. Everything is so fleeting with him though. He’s hot then he’s cold. He’s yes then he’s no.”
Lennon cuts me off, laughing. “All right, Katy Perry. I get the picture.”
“Funny,” I sass.
“Have you told him that you care about him?” she asks me seriously.
My mind’s screaming that he’d have to blind not to notice, but I shake my head again. “No.”
“He’s not a mind reader, Peyton,” she scolds. “Tell him how you feel.”
Pursing my lips, I cock an eyebrow at her. “Yes, because you were so forthcoming with Jami about your feelings,” I tease her.
“Smartass.”
Twirling my phone around in my lap, I laugh softly. “I just want him to want me.”
“Seriously? Cheap Trick now?” She rolls her eyes. “I should start describing my feelings withsong lyrics.”
My phone vibrates and I look down. “He’s here,” I mumble.
“Well, just don’t stop believing.” She grins. “Just hold on to that feeling.”
After sliding off the chair, I start off towards the door. “Journey?” I scoff. “Yeah. I’m the lame one.”
Her laugher floats through the air as I walk towards Jayden’s truck. He’s leaning against the passenger’s side door, his arms crossed over his chest and his ever-present Ray-Bans pushed up on his nose.
“Hey,” I say lamely.
He steps forward, opening the door. “Hey. Good afternoon?”
I open my mouth to tell him about Axel but snap it shut just as quickly.
I’m not his problem.
“It was fine,” I answer, not protesting when he lifts me into the truck. “You?”
While buckling me in, he lets his fingers linger over my side. “It was fine,” he repeats in an echo.
“That’s good.”
The drive home is equally as awkward. We don’t talk—at all. The only sound is the music rattling softly through his speakers. He seems less angry than he did before, but he still looks a far cry from happy. I couldn’t be happier that I have dinner in a few short hours. I’ll easily be able to disappear into my room to get ready and not have to withstand the torture of his silence for the rest of the evening.
TODAY FUCKING SUCKS.
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Jackson asks before sipping his beer on the opposite couch.
Glancing over my shoulder towards her bedroom door, I want to kick my own stupid ass.
I’ve been rude to her all day.
I ignored her.
I barely spoke to her.
All because I’m a jealous prick who can’t keep his shit together.
“I wasn’t supposed to care,” I mutter out loud, more to myself than to him.
Leaning forward, my best friend rests his elbows on his knees and tilts the long neck of his beer bottle at me. “Who said you weren’t supposed to care about her?”
“I did,” I snap like the jackass I’ve become.
Seeing his jaw tick, I brace myself for another lecture but it never comes.
“I know I’m not allowed to talk about it, but Michelle wouldn’t want this for you, Jayden.”
“It was my fault.”
He squeezes my shoulder. “No. It was an accident. What would be your fault is if you let her walk out that door tonight to fall in love with a man who isn’t you.”
After grinding my jaw, I open my mouth but snap it shut when I hear her door open.
“My ride’s here,” she says softly, her sweet voice feeding my starving heart.
When I look over my shoulder, the sight before me is hardly something I could have prepared myself for. Peyton’s always gorgeous, but tonight, she’s dressed to kill—and it pisses me off. It roars the caveman side of me to life that wants to drag her into my bedroom and keep her there forever.
Her hair is down and wavy, much like it was earlier today, and her pouty lips are painted with fire-truck-red lipstick. Fuck. Every guy who sees her is going to wonder what that color would look like on his dick. Hanging loosely off her small frame is a white lace summer dress that makes her legs look a mile long. Following them, my eyes finally drop to the brown, shit-kicker cowboy boots she has on, and I want to bang my head against the fucking wall. Any red-blooded male is going to picture her riding them with those boots when he sees her.
Fuck my life.
“Have fun,” Jackson says, and I want to throw my beer at his head.
She most certainly should not have any fun whatsoever with this prick.
Peyton hovers at the stairs, and I can feel her watching me. I know she’s waiting for me to say something, but I don’t. Turning
away, I take a long pull from my beer. Then I hear the front door open and close.
“You’re a fucking idiot!” Jackson exclaims.
Finishing off my first beer of the night, I stand. “Want another?”
He abruptly jumps to his feet, launching his bottle at me. I duck just in time for the amber glass to go sailing above my head and smash into the living room wall.
“What the fuck, Jackson?” I roar.
“You’re going to get drunk? Seriously? That’s your master plan?” He throws his hands up in the hair, exasperated. “You’re going to sit on your ass feeling sorry for yourself, drowning in a twelve-pack of Molson Canadian while your girl”—he points at me—“your words, not mine—goes out on a date with another fucking guy? You’re pathetic, Jayden. Man up. Michelle would roll over in her grave if she saw you cheating yourself out of happiness like this.”
Storming across the room, I connect my fist with the side of his face as hard as I can. “Don’t you ever fucking talk about her again!” I scream in his face, a tear sliding down my cheek. “I wasn’t supposed to love anyone else. It was only supposed to be her, Jackson. Forever.” I collapse down on to the couch, burying my head in my hands. “I’m the reason she’s dead. It was my fault. I’m not supposed to keep living. I’m not supposed to love someone again. It’s my penance for what I’ve done. I stole her life, and fucking God or whoever the fuck is up there stole my heart in return. I won’t steal the life of someone that perfect again. No fucking way. She’s too good for that.”
I wait for him to say something poetic, but instead, he walks up to me and clocks me in the face.
“I’ve put up with this shit for years because I knew you were grieving. I let you fuck every girl in sight, never remembering half their names. I kicked them out when you were too drunk to see straight, knowing you’d throw up at the sight of them in your bed come morning. I was there. I went to your hell with you, just the same as you went to mine.” He huffs, the anger rolling off his body, taking a toll on him. “But enough is enough, Jayden. Cheating yourself out of love won’t bring Michelle back. It’ll only make you a bitter, lonely, old man. As for Peyton being too good for you? Don’t you think she deserves to make that decision for herself?”
“I can’t,” I whisper like a pathetic little fuck.
Standing in front of me, he points in my face. “If that’s true, which I sorely believe it is, then you better come to terms with the fact that you have to say goodbye to her. She’s not yours if you aren’t man enough to claim her, and I bet that detective—”
My head snaps up and I look him in the eye.
“Yeah, asshole. He’s the one who picked her up, and you better believe he isn’t going to wait long to make her his. So prepare yourself, Jayden, because if you don’t go after her right now, you’re going to say goodbye to the second woman you’ve ever loved, and this time, it won’t be Heaven that stole her in a way you couldn’t have prevented. No. This time, it will be your fault.”
“Come on,” I urge the speedometer on my truck. “I’m so fucking close.”
I can’t be more than ten minutes behind her.
Turning onto Fifth, I see Brick Shithouse’s stupid fucking truck parked on the street, and my hands begin to shake.
She’s mine.
Once I’ve pulled up onto the curb outside the restaurant like a lunatic, I slam the truck in park and jump down. Then I stalk towards the entrance like a madman.
I’m coming, sugar.
As I’m reaching for the handle of the door, I stop dead in my tracks when I hear her sweet voice say my name.
“Jayden?”
I turn my head to see her standing on the sidewalk, next to him.
Her face is contorted in worry. “What are you doing here?”
Turning on my heel, I storm towards her. I’m a desperate man, and I need her.
Enough of this waiting shit.
“Whoa,” the asshole beside her says—Detective what’s-his-nuts. “You look like you need to take a breath, buddy,” he warns, stepping to stand between us.
“Move,” I growl.
One warning. He gets one fucking warning. I don’t care if he’ll kick my ass up and down Fifth. I’ve pulled my head out of my ass, and this fucker is done seeing my girl—end of story.
“It’s okay, Colt,” she assures him, wrapping her arm around his bicep.
Don’t fucking touch him! I want to scream. My heart is begging me to tell her already. To beg her.
Slipping under his arm, she stands tall, facing me. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?” Standing on her tiptoes, she brushes her fingers across my cheek.
I’m paralyzed in limbo.
“Jayden, you’re scaring me,” she whispers.
I must look crazy.
Placing my hand over hers on my cheek, I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath.
It’s now or never, asshole.
Hooking my arms around her waist, I gently pull her body against mine—a determined man.
And then I go for it, laying my soul bare and on the line.
“It’s not him, okay?” I nod towards the detective. “It’s me. I’m the one for you. Am I perfect? Fuck no. Can I promise you smooth sailing? Hardly. But I know that when the darkness comes each night, I want to be holding you as it descends. I know that I want to be on the receiving end of every one of your smiles. I know that I want the chance. I want the chance to be the man who loves you.”
She closes her eyes, and my heart pounds wildly.
What if she says no?
As she flutters them open, tears pool in her violet eyes.
No, please, no.
“Jayden, I—”
Crashing my mouth down on hers, I taste her for the first time. Her arms slide up my chest, wrapping around my neck, and she moans. Taking full advantage, I slip my tongue in to explore her mouth. Fuck, she’s sweet. Keeping one arm wrapped around her waist, I drag the other up her back, fisting my hand in her long hair.
All is fair in love and war. Kissing her while she’s on a date with another man, while he’s standing next to us? I couldn’t give a fuck.
I’ll beg her with my body if words aren’t enough.
She is mine.
IT’S A FREEZE frame. The kind of moment captured only in still by the click of camera.
Timeless.
Vulnerable.
Captivating.
Magical.
Candid.
It’s a first kiss. Our first kiss.
If I died in this fraction of a second, I’d die breathless and with weak knees. It would be enough for me, to go like this.
Sheer bliss.
Simple perfection.
I wish to live eternally in the space of our first kiss.
Breaking our kiss, he rests his forehead on mine, our lips still mere inches apart. “Say yes, Peyton,” he begs me. “Leave here with me, not him.”
Pulling his head back down to mine, I press a light kiss to his full lips. “Yes, Jayden, but—”
“No, buts, sugar.” He nips at my chin. “You’re mine.”
Oh, god. This is so embarrassing.
“I need to tell you—”
He interrupts me, sweeping the hair off my neck and peppering kisses across the exposed flesh.
I’m entirely lost in him.
I nearly forget what I’ve meant to tell him until the exaggerated, dramatic clapping starts up behind us.
Shit.
“Well, Colt darling, you didn’t promise me dinner and a show,” a shrill voices laughs behind us.
Reluctantly, I pull my body far enough away from Jayden’s to glance in his eyes, but he’s already looking over my head to the owner of the voice.
“I’m confused,” he murmurs against my again.
Smiling, I fail miserably at holding back a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” he growls, tugging a little on my hair.
When I turn in his arms, he releases me and I point to t
he witnesses of our little display of affection. “I’m not on a date with Colt, Jayden.”
He looks from me to them and back again. “What?”
“Jayden”—I point to the woman I was only just introduced to minutes ago—“meet Colt’s new girlfriend, Alyssa.”
Jayden shifts uncomfortably before holding his hand out. “Uhh. Hi.”
“I tried to tell you,” I giggle, “but you wouldn’t listen.”
Pulling my backside against his front, he nuzzles into my neck. “You could have tried a little harder.”
“And ruin all the fun?” Alyssa snorts.
I flick my gaze up to her, and the wheels in my brain turn as I take her in. Colt didn’t mention much about her other than they’d been seeing each other for two months or so and she was new to town.
I am not sure I like her. Why? I can’t quite place it.
“Have you slept with him?” Jayden snarls possessively in my ear.
“Jayden!” I hiss, slapping him on the arm and trying to pull away from him. “Ew, no. That’s gross. Colt’s like my brother.”
Tightening his hold, he pulls me back towards him, resting his head on mine. “Well, I feel like a bit of an asshole now.”
“You are an asshole,” Colt spouts off, wrapping his arm around Alyssa’s shoulder.
Chucking, he gives in. “Fair enough. I deserved that.”
“Probably more,” Colt snaps.
Narrowing my eyes at Colt, I focus on a subject change. “Where’s Kennedy?”
Kennedy is Colt’s sister. She’s a teacher at the elementary school in town, and she was supposed to be meeting us for dinner. I’d never agree to be a third wheel without a fourth, but I miss her. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen her.
“She can’t make it.” He shrugs. “Came down with the flu or something.”
“You must join us for dinner!” Alyssa claps her hands together as Colt groans. “Our reservation is for four. It shouldn’t go to waste.”
I don’t miss the way her eyes linger on our embrace a moment too long.
Weird.
“Sure.” Jayden shrugs behind me. “But I should probably re-park my truck.”
Looking behind us, I hold back another laugh. His big, blue truck is parked halfway on the curb with the engine running.
“You’re crazy,” I murmur.
