I think you know the reason by now.
Ryder
… Jaxon.
Hawk
Well. I’m awake. Where are we meeting and when are we getting him?
Jaxon
I’m at Spooks. Meet me here as soon as possible.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, not needing to read any more of the messages. If it’s important, they’ll call. In the meantime, I’ll wait for them and keep an eye on Dahlia. I don’t want Mr. I’m-A-Nice-Guy to try something with my girl.
Fuck.
I crane my neck as I search the Halloween store for Jaxon on my way out with Michael. He has a pep in his step and lays his hand on my lower back as we walk outside. Jaxon is still out of view, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. The comfortable fall air envelops me, which would have put me at ease if it weren’t for Michael being so pushy.
“So you and your brother are still inseparable, huh?”
My spine straightens. I adjust the straps of my small bat backpack. “Yeah. I guess we are.”
“I see he hasn’t changed much since graduation,” he says as he leads me to the right with a short, slow stride to drag this out. His hand on me feels so wrong. His palms are slimy with sweat, and it just doesn’t feel as right as Jaxon’s touch does.
“Do people change after high school?” I say.
Michael glances at me with a weird look that I can’t read, and the small hairs on the back of my neck rise. “I would say so.”
Jaxon hasn’t changed, and I don’t know if I did. I feel thesame, but when I was a kid, I wore dresses with bows. Now I wear black grunge- and goth-style clothes and feel way more like myself.
“So, um,” I say. “Do you go up to women you match with often, or . . .?”
Michael smiles, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “This is the first time.”
I nod and follow his lead as we walk along the sidewalk through the busiest part of town.
“So, where are we going?” I ask.
I already want this “date” to end. Michael gives me the creeps, and I hate how he’s still touching my lower back and dragging his fingertips up and down in slow strokes. It’s almost like he’s resisting the temptation to touch my ass.
Michael may be good-looking, with his blond hair neatly styled and a bright, friendly smile that can put anyone at ease, but he’s not Jaxon. He’s not broody or tattooed, and he lacks a split tongue that can flick my clit in opposite directions at the same time. His touch doesn’t light me up like a firecracker, either.
“I figured we could get something light.” He eyes me up and down, leaving me feeling gross from his barely contained judgment.
“I’m not much of a salad girl, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Michael chuckles and opens a door to a deli sandwich shop. “Yeah, I can tell. Not that I’m judging or anything.”
I frown and duck past him, entering the building. My mouth waters from the array of smells, especially the sweet scent of ham and honey bread.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and my heart picks up its pace. The vibration is the one I made specifically for Jaxon.
Michael orders for the both of us at thecounter, and we take a seat at an available table. I slip my phone out of my pocket and rest it on my lap, my fingers itching to touch the screen so I can read Jaxon’s text message. Michael talks about himself and what he’s been up to after graduation. He acts like we’ve been friends since our teens and I’m dying to know more about him.
My phone vibrates again. I sink my front teeth into my bottom lip and bounce my leg, thankful the table covers the nervous habit. A third text comes in, and I can’t hold back anymore. I open the screen and read the texts as Michael goes on about how the gym saved him when he was at his lowest.
Jaxon
