Jaxon is across the room, laughing at something Beck said, his dimples flashing, his fitted black t-shirt stretching just enough over his shoulders to make my brain short-circuit. His posture is relaxed, water in hand, looking like he just walked off the cover of a magazine.
Like he hasn't spent the past few weeks taking up way too much space in my head.
As if he can sense me staring, his gaze flicks up and locks onto mine.
My breath catches.
For a second, we just look at each other. The room seems to fade around us, the noise dimming, everything narrowing to just this moment, just his eyes on mine. I see the recognition there, the acknowledgment of what almost happened that night at my door. I see something else too—something intent, determined.
And in that second, I realize something.
It doesn't matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise. It doesn't matter how much distance I try to put between us.
I want him, and no amount of logic is changing that.
Lyla loops her arm through mine, dragging me toward the kitchen. The smell of beer and something vaguely sticky lingers in the air as we weave through the crowd, dodging people already a little too drunk for how early it is.
"Alright," Lyla says, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she reaches for two drinks. "You need a little liquid courage if you're gonna keep making those eyes at Jaxon all night."
I snatch my drink from her hand, rolling my eyes. "I'm not making eyes at him."
She smirks. "Oh, babe. You so are."
I don't dignify that with a response, instead cracking open my drink and taking a slow sip. But just as I turn back toward the living room, my stomach drops.
I see Allie with her hand on Jaxon's arm.
My fingers tighten around my drink as I watch her tilt her head, her long, blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she leans in a little too close. She laughs at something—too sweet, too familiar—and Jaxon chuckles in response, shaking his head.
And even though I know I have no right to feel the way I do?—
I feel a little sick.
The jealousy surging through me is so sudden and intense, it catches me off guard. It's not just about Allie; it's about the realization that Jaxon could have anyone he wanted. He's talented, smart, beyond attractive—and here I am, holding back because I'm scared, while other women have no problem showing him exactly what they want.
My chest tightens. I need air.
"I'll be back," I mumble to Lyla, already turning toward the back door before she can respond.
The backyard is just as packed as the house, a makeshift dance floor stretching across the grass. Music pulses through the speakers, bass thudding in my chest as people sway and spin beneath the string lights hanging overhead.
I inhale deeply, the cool night air helping a little. I tell myself I don't care about Jaxon and Allie, that he's not mine to be jealous over. If he wants her, that's?—
"You okay?"
I freeze, instantly knowing who that voice belongs to.
Turning slowly, I find Jaxon standing behind me, his head tilted slightly as he watches me. His eyes are intense under the string lights, searching my face like he's trying to read my every thought.
"Yeah," I lie, forcing a small smile. "Just needed some air."
He steps closer, close enough that I have to tilt my chin to keep looking at him. "You sure?"
I nod quickly. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"
Jaxon lifts a brow, like he knows exactly why. "If you're worried about Allie, don't be."
I scoff, crossing my arms. "I'm not?—"
