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I text Jaelynn, hoping that she’s free so we can also hit the movies or maybe a late dinner. She’s always been great for that.
But she texts back one word.
Kylan.
I roll my eyes and throw myself back on the bed. So much for that idea.
Boo. You whore.
I reply, quoting her favorite movie.
I could always text Liam. Heismy boyfriend after all. But after Friday night’s debacle, we actually haven’t talked a ton. He’s busy with work during the week anyways and if I’m being honest, I need the headspace. These days, Liam and I are a lot more wrong than we are right, despite the fact that I do care for him and I know he loves me. Something has felt off lately and I really don’t feel like diving into it right now.
I stare at my phone a minute longer. My finger itching to text the one person I purposefully refused that luxury to. I don't know why I feel the need to, but I pull up his contact and hover over theunblockbutton. I let out a deep breath trying to decide if I should do it or not.
It wouldn't be the first time I'd done it, but this time feels different. This time,he's here.
My phone vibrates in my hand, causing my finger to tap down on the screen on accident and I unblock his number.
"Stupid email," I whisper to myself out loud, realizing what just happened.
I blow out another sigh and slip the phone into my pocket, deciding to head downstairs, grab a snack and have a lonesome movie night of my own. Maybe it’s what I need.
When I get into the kitchen, I throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave and lean against the counter to scroll through my social media accounts while I wait. I don’t see much happening in the world right now, but I see that one of my favorite authors just announced her new book is releasing soon so I make a mental note to preorder it.
But something else pulls me from the thought. A soft hum of a motor coming closer into range. I get curious, as that’s not a sound we hear often in our quiet neighborhood, especially not at eight at night.
So I set my phone down and walk into the foyer, dipping my hand behind the satin curtain to pull it back and that’s when I see that Jaxon pulled up to his mom’s house across the street on his motorcycle. I roll my eyes—an action I've been doing a lot of lately.Didn’t he move into his own place?What business does he have back at his mom’s?
But I don’t pull away as I watch him kick the stand to his bike.
Even though I hate this guy right now, my eyes stay glued to him. He’s so fucking hot and I will admit to having a hard time separating myself form him the other day at my job; they way the breath of his voice hit my skin like lava. I could feel the pulse in his heart from how close we were. From here, his blue eyes sparkle even in the darkness and as he pulls the helmet off his head, his shirt lifts slightly and I get a small glimpse of dangerously hot tattoos and delicately chiseled abs. Something like a bolt of electricity spikes my skin that puts me in a torment of being entranced by the one person I can’t stand.
My breath hitches as I watch him slide off the bike, his dark jean clad legs flexing in all the right ways and-
“Fuck,” I gasp as I jump back from the front window.
He caught me staring.
What the fuck am I doing over here anyways?
I take a chance to lean back in, peaking as carefully as possible to make sure he doesn't see me again, but lo and be-fucking-hold, Jax starts walking toward my house.
“Shit, please no.” I berate myself for being a dumbass. And before I have time to move away from the door, he’s already knocking at it.
I stand frozen, hoping that he’ll think he imagined me stalking him. But he only knocks louder the second time.
“Hollis, I know you’re home,” he adds on to his next knock, practically singing the words like a taunt of some sort.
Ugh.
I steady my shaky hands and decide to open the stupid door and when I do, I’m greeted with a half-smirked Jax and if he was sexy across the street, he’s just as sexy at my doorstep.
I wish he got uglier, not more attractive; it would make this whole thing so much easier.
We stare at each other for a beat before he asks, “Can we talk?”
He holds his helmet at his side with one hand and the other is shoved in his front pocket. His arms are flexing in hisFendert-shirt in a way that makes it hard to focus on anything else.
