Sugar Rush

by Bella Emy

  “She left him for that guy, Paul, I was telling you about,” I answer her from my spot on the recliner. We’re just sitting in front of the fireplace. We were supposed to go out tonight, but since we heard it was going to storm, we had decided to stay in and watch a movie with a bowl of popcorn.

  Her eyes widen as she stuffs a few pieces into her mouth and chews. Once she swallows, she says, “Wow. What a whore!”

  I almost spit out my popcorn. My bestie is like that, no filter whatsoever. “Margot! I can’t with you, woman.”

  She shrugs it off with a wry grin. “What? It’s true. She’s ready to hop on some other dude’s dick when she was just engaged to Mr. Perfect. Sure sounds like a whore to me.”

  Ah, yes. Mr. Perfect. That was the nickname she had given Jackson because when I first met him and told her all about the new hottie I worked with, the first thing I had said when walking through our door was, “God, he’s perfect!” Since then, that has always been what she’d call him.

  “She’s either a cracked-out whore or she’s dumb... or both,” she continues on her rant. Her dark brown locks swing from side-to-side as she speaks. Aside from being uncontrollably unfiltered, she’s also very “expressionate,” which is the word I use to describe her for being both extremely expressive and passionate at the exact same time.

  I chuckle, but she does have a valid point. What kind of dumbass lets go of a man who is good to you, takes care of you, and looks like a fucking model?

  “I don’t know,” I say, placing my cell phone on the coffee table in front of us.

  “Well, clearly this is good news.”

  I furrow my brows. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

  She shakes her head back and forth slightly, holding out her hands as if to say that it’s clearly obvious. “This is your shot.”

  “My shot?” I raise an eyebrow. Here we go. Margot always has something up her sleeve.

  “That’s right. The whole time, he’s been with that bitch, making him utterly unavailable. Now that he’s back on the market, this is your chance to make him see what a wonderful woman you are.”

  Oh, God. Now she’s gone off the deep end. Sure, it would be nice to actually have a chance with him, but I know it’s not possible. We’re co-workers first and foremost, and they say to never mix business with pleasure. I’m sure that’s one of his mottos, anyway. “Margie, have you lost your mind?”

  “No, why?”

  “Because. We don’t even know if he’s technically back on the market. What if he’s not putting himself up for sale, as you like to say?”

  Every time a guy we knew breaks up with his girlfriend, she would always say they were back up for sale. This was something she has been saying for as long as I’ve known her.

  “Oh, he’s a man. Of course, he’s putting himself up for sale. And the price is going to be right, too. You think he actually wants to stay single? If he does, it won’t be long. And looking the way he does, it’s going to be even shorter. You’d better make a move if you want him.”

  Of course, I want him. But what move? What could I do? I don’t make moves on guys. I suck when it comes to that. Never in my life have I ever made the first move. Maybe it’s one of the reasons why I’ve been single for almost four years now.

  Throwing a piece of popcorn my way, Margot exclaims, “C’mon, woman! Do you want him, or do you want him?!”

  I shield myself from the offending snack being thrown in my direction and respond, “I do, but I just–”

  “There’s no but!” she shouts back.

  “OK, OK!”

  She stops flinging the buttery treat my way and settles down, finally satisfied with my answer. Then she brings up her index finger and thumb to her chin and turns her gaze up to the ceiling. Oh, fuck. I’m royally screwed now. She’s thinking of something.

  “Oh, no.”

  She smirks and then giggles, looking back at me. “You just give me some time. I will come up with the perfect thing, Paige. Watch.”

  “I’m scared. Terrified, even.”

  She gives me an evil grin and says, “Oh, you should be.”

  Fuck.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, I awake to the vibrating of my cell phone on my nightstand. I pick it up and see a text message has come through. It’s Jackson.

  My heartbeat speeds up instantly at the sight of his name. I don’t have to mention how quickly I jump up in bed, practically out of my skin.

  “6:45 a.m.? What the hell?” I whisper. Something has to be up for him to text me this early on a Saturday.

  If it had been anyone else who had woken me up on my day off, I would have killed them. But Jax? He can be my wake-up call any day.

  I stretch and unlock my phone, bringing the text message up in front of me.

  Jackson Fierce: Good morning, Paige =)

  I wish I could hear him saying my name right about now. Yum, those lips and the way they move whenever he talks...

  Me: Hey, Jax. All OK?

  Jackson Fierce: Yeah, I’m sorry. I know it’s early and all, but are you free?

  Holy shit! He wants to know if I’m free right now? Fuck, yes!

  Me: At 7 a.m. on a Saturday? Yeah, I certainly don’t have plans ;)

  Jackson Fierce: Good. Meet me at the restaurant on the pier in about an hour. Come hungry.

  The pier? That was one of our favorite places. My heart races, and the anxiety I feel within quickens. I can’t believe he wants me to meet him now.

  Me: OK. See you there.

  I throw my phone down and jump up from my bed. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I shout, running out of my room, into the hallway, and then ultimately, barging into Margot’s room.

  Margot is sitting up, rubbing her eyes. Her hair is a matted mess at the top of her head, strands sticking out from a messy bun.

  “Oh, my God!” I shout, jumping up and down like a retard.

  When our eyes lock, she throws daggers my way.

  “Paige, do you know what time it is?” Her morning voice is deep and laced with annoyance.

  “Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh,” I say, still dancing around.

  “Then what the fuck are you doing running around screaming like a moron?! You’d better be in here to tell me that we hit the lotto.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. Oh, she is looking like she wants to kill me, but I know once I give her the news, she’ll lighten up.

  I run to her and grab her shoulders. “No, better!”

  “Better?” she questions, raising an eyebrow.

  “Jax texted me! He wants me to meet him in an hour at the pier! Can you believe it?! Can you?”

  Her expression changes immediately, and now she’s the happy-go-lucky girl I know. There’s my Margot. “Well, then. What the fuck are you doing in my room wasting time? Go get yourself ready, bitchola!”

  She jumps out of bed and pushes me out her door. “Go!” she says, pointing to the bathroom.

  I fling my arms around her and take a deep breath. “I love you, my bestie.”

  “I love you, too, woman. Now go!”

  When we pull away, I nod, smiling at her, and she does the same. Finally, I begin the walk down the hall to make myself look decent for my date with Jax. Because, even though this may not be an actual date, it is nice to pretend. I mean, he did want to see me over anyone else first thing this morning. That has to count for something, right?

  I enter the bathroom and close the door behind me. I lean up against it, take a deep breath, and look at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t recall ever seeing myself this excited. I chuckle and then go over to the shower to turn on the water. Once the temperature is to my liking, I strip out of my clothes, grab my toothbrush, and hop into the shower.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Paige

  I arrive at Harborstone Pier at 7:58 a.m., but don’t ask me how. I freaking raced to get myself together not looking a damn near hot mess. I decided I didn’t want to look too done up or as if I had spent too long deciding on an o
utfit, but in all honesty, I had changed my blouse at least fifty times, no joke. In the end, I had topped off my dark denim blue jeans with a black top that revealed just the slightest amount of cleavage. Since it’s the end of November, and the cold weather hasn’t really hit Harborstone yet, I threw on an unzipped black hoodie over my shirt.

  The cerulean waves crash against the tall beams of the boardwalk. I stuff my hands in my pockets as a light chilly breeze kisses my cheeks while I walk along the pier, looking to see if I spot Jackson. When my eyes finally land on him, a warm and fuzzy feeling swarms my insides. God, even just sitting there wearing a hoodie, sweatpants, and sneakers, he looks amazing. This is a rare moment of him being out of his typical work attire. I think he looks even more undressable like this...

  Moments later, he looks up and sees me. A small smile graces his face, and I can’t help but smile back at this hottie. Damn, what I would have done to be Amalia and had him in my life. I surely wouldn’t have left him or let him go. The bitch was crazy.

  But he’s asked me to meet him here this early for a reason, right? If it were work related, it surely could have waited ‘til Monday morning, couldn’t it? But then again, if it were really a date, wouldn’t he have asked me to something later on in the day, such as dinner, perhaps? Hell, maybe he wants to spend the whole day with me. Wishful thinking, right?

  “Paige, you made it,” he says, rising from his seat as I make my way closer to him. His hand lands on the small of my back, and goosebumps travel up and down my spine.

  What the fuck? He hasn’t even made skin contact. I need to cool down.

  “I made it. How are you doing?”

  He motions for the chair across from his. “Sit down, please.” He takes his seat, and then I go ahead and do the same.

  A waiter comes up to our table and looks at Jax. “Good morning, folks. I’m Don, and I’ll be taking care of you today. Can I start you guys off with some coffee or a glass of our famous freshly squeezed orange juice?” He flashes us an all-too perfect smile. I can only imagine how many times a day he says the same phrase to complete strangers.

  “Two coffees will be just fine, please. One with two teaspoons of sugar, the other black. Thanks,” Jax says to the waiter. I love that he knows how I take my coffee without even asking. I guess working in the same place for a while will do that.

  “Right away, Sir. I’ll be right back with that for you folks.”

  “Thank you,” I quietly respond as the waiter walks away. Turning my attention back to Jackson, I feel like I need to make sure there’s no other reason besides him wanting my company that he’s asked me to meet him here so early this morning, and under such short notice. “So, what’s going on? Everything OK?” Inside, I’m praying he tells me he just wanted to see me.

  He unzips his hoodie an inch and then gazes at me. Damn, those eyes. Those fascinating, sparkling green eyes...

  He nods. “Oh, yeah, yeah. Everything is OK. I asked you to come out this morning because there actually is something I wanted to go over with you.”

  Oh, shit. This is it. This is the moment when he tells me he’s been secretly in love with me since the moment he laid eyes on me. But of course, he couldn’t do anything about it because he was with Amalia...

  Yeah right, Paige. Shut the fuck up before you make a complete fool of yourself.

  “OK,” I respond instead. My anxiety is causing me to have heart palpitations, and my curiosity is getting the best of me.

  I quietly take a deep breath.

  Then, suddenly, I see it. He bends down and picks up his briefcase. His black work briefcase filled with work stuff. Work. This is a work thing. Fuck! I was so stupid to even begin to think it was something other than work shit. Of course, this is work related, but fuck, at eight in the morning on a Saturday? Why couldn’t this have waited ‘til Monday morning? I honestly don’t want to think about work right now. I’m so frustrated.

  He opens it and pulls out a manila folder. “Look, check this out.” He pulls out a few sheets of paper from the folder and lays them down on top of the blue and white checkered tablecloth. “I couldn’t sleep last night, ‘cause, well, you know. Anyway, I decided to do some research, and I saw this.”

  I decide to swallow my disappointment and focus. Obviously, it must be something important to call me out here so early on my day off, right? I lean in closer and see what he’s trying to show me. But I must be braindead right now or too much into my feelings for him because I don’t see shit. Maybe there’s even still a pang of disappointment that is hindering me from seeing what he’s pointing at. I’m not really sure, but whatever the case may be, I don’t see a fucking thing that stands out as something worthy. Everything I’m seeing is shit we already know about the Martinez case. “I’m sorry, Jax. I’m not following.”

  His eyes widen, and it’s at that very moment that the waiter comes back with our mugs of piping hot coffee. It smells amazing, and I can’t wait to take a sip. I grab the cup and take a sip, and it tastes just as good as it smells. I have to say, though, not many places can do that. Sure, sometimes the coffee would be good, but more times than not, it smells better than it tastes. That’s definitely not the case here. The smell matches the taste. Thank God. I need some good coffee this morning, for whatever this with Jax is...

  “Are you kissing me, Paige?”

  “I-I’m sorry, what?” My eyes almost pop out of my head. Have I heard him correctly?

  His eyebrows furrow, and he gives me a dubious stare. “Are you feeling alright this morning? Maybe you should take a few more sips of that coffee,” he chuckles.

  I giggle nervously and take another sip. Fuck, what is wrong with me?

  “I was asking you if you’re kidding me. Look closely at this photograph,” he says, pushing the picture closer in my direction.

  “Is that Cynthia Martinez, checking into a hotel?” I ask, finally understanding.

  “Yes! And if you look closely at the bottom here, you can see this is the time and date that she claims she was at home sick as a dog. The bitch is lying. I knew it all along. We got her.”

  I nod my head. The case we had been working on for so long finally seems like it has come to a close. Cynthia’s husband, Charles, was divorcing her, and trying to prove that she had cheated on him. She wanted the houses–yes, houses–cars, pets, all mementos, and basically anything she could get her hands on. But if we could prove that she had been cheating, she would get nothing.

  “That’s great, Jax,” I respond. I take another sip of my coffee and look out toward the water. The view is breathtaking, and I love coming out here. Lately, I’ve been doing it alone. Jax and I haven’t been out here together in the longest time.

  He chuckles. “Yeah. I thought you’d be more excited... we’ve been dealing with these two for months now. Are you sure you’re OK?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I guess I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep much last night,” I lie.

  “Tell me about it. I hardly slept. I had to do something to get Amalia off of my mind.” He pauses for a moment and then starts talking again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring her up. She’s old news.”

  I reach out and grab his hand over the table. A bold move, I know. But fuck. I’m going to make this worth my while. He is going to see me as more than just a co-worker. “Jax, it’s OK, really. If you want to talk about it, we can. I’m here to listen to you... always.” I give him one of my sweet smiles, and he smiles back. Yes!

  He reaches up and places his other hand on top of mine on top of his. Oh my God, my heartbeat just sped up like crazy.

  “Thanks, Paige. I appreciate that. I’m so glad we’re such good friends.”

  My jaw is about to drop, but I quickly pretend like him putting up the friendzone line doesn’t bother me one bit. Not one bit. Fuck, man.

  “Of course, Jax. I’m here for you... we’re friends.” God, that sounded so wrong coming out, but now I’m certain I don’t stand a chance with him.

  “So,
here’s what I was thinking we could tell Charles before court on Tuesday,” he begins talking about the case once more, and I’m lost in all thoughts of how I wish this weren’t happening.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Jackson

  February 4, 2019

  Damn. What a weekend. To say I got completely trashed is an understatement. Friday, after I left work around four, I met up with Tristan at the bar. We threw back a couple of beers, and about an hour later, I see Amalia walking in with Paul, Amelia, and her boyfriend, Joey. It’s been over three years, but I thought the next time I’d see her, I’d feel some type of way... like horrible or bitter. Anything but the way I felt as my eyes landed on her with him. But, truth be told, I felt nothing. No sorrow, no depression, no bitterness. Nothing. She gave me an uneasy smile when she saw me, but I just tipped my bottle up to her, and she visibly relaxed. Guess she didn’t want to hurt me or whatever. Did she know that had been done when she first told me she was leaving me? Now, it doesn’t matter. I feel nothing anymore. I no longer want her back, nor do I care who she decides to screw. Obviously, she’s still with Paul three years later, so I guess it’s going well.

  Hell, good for them. I can’t really say I’m happy for her and whatnot, but I do wish her the best always. I don’t feel hatred or anything negative toward her anymore. It’s over, and my heart had time to heal. It’s been long enough, and I’ve had plenty of time to mourn the end of our engagement and relationship; I was never planning on giving up on love just because this one sour relationship didn’t work out the way I thought it would.

  As a matter of fact, almost a year after my break up with Amalia, I’d even started dating again. Nothing serious, of course, but I was tired of always only seeing Tristan’s butt-ass ugly mug on my spare time after work. OK, I’m lying. The girls are crazy about his boyish good looks, but c’mon. I’m a man, and I love women.

  Beautiful curvy woman with ample bosoms...

  But more so than that, a woman with a good heart and an awesome personality. It may sound cliché but it’s true. I’d much rather date a woman who isn’t model-beautiful but will treat me like a human being. My heart can only take but so much.