Furious (The Pointe of Love #4)

Prologue

JAX

Jax loved his life, but not so much this morning because he had a brutal hangover and his leg was bothering him again. For fuck’s sake, he was in his last semester of culinary school; he should be thinking about the menus he had to put together instead of partying with his friends.

But he had a genuine excuse for last night, his favorite DJ had done a surprise Boiler Room set.

Luckily, Mae had all the connections, and she’d gotten him on the guest list for the experience of a lifetime.

Jax recalled dancing, sweating, doing whatever shots came his way, and freaking out because the DJ had pointed at him, but everything after that was hazy.

It didn’t matter. If he couldn’t remember the party, then he’d definitely had fun.

He sat up, trying to swallow, but his mouth felt like a desert. He needed water, a shower, and caffeine.

Limping into the kitchen, he filled a glass at the sink and gulped it all down.

When he finally stopped to breathe, he shook out his leg, stretching it with a grimace as pain shot down the center of the limb.

Going to the gym in the mornings, class in the afternoons, and dancing all night was beginning to catch up to him.

Even at twenty-two, his body could only do so much.

Sighing, he vowed to take a break for school and his health.

After a shower so hot it could be classified as lava, he downed two cups of the strongest tea he had, feeling leagues better. He even managed an afternoon of work on his menus before his phone chirped.

Saving the document, he checked his lock screen.

Guess what? Tonight is ROUND TWO .

Below it was a picture of Mae standing next to the DJ, but that didn’t surprise him. A stunning triple-Pisces, Mae could be flaky with a touch of main character syndrome, but she leveraged her pretty privilege wherever they went, getting them into all the VIP rooms.

Closing his laptop, Jax decided on a final night before he took his break.

Two hours later, he stood outside the epitome of an abandoned warehouse, complete with half-broken windows. All it needed was a sign that said, “The Best Place To Be Murdered.”

Hands in his pockets, he glanced around, his pulse higher than it should be. Why couldn’t DJs find something well-lit?

Shaking his leg, Jax stretched again, solidifying his vow that this was the last night out until graduation.

While he loved being on the dance floor, moving his body to a beat that pounded through him and feeling so free it was almost spiritual, he had to shift priorities.

He’d been working his ass off for years in class and in kitchens to afford school, and he didn’t want to waste his efforts.

He’d even left his latest job for the final semester, intending to focus on his degree, but he’d been spending that extra time at festivals and clubs.

Was that such a bad thing? Sure, he had to think about his future, but life could change in the blink of an eye; maybe he should enjoy his youth while it lasted.

Jax jumped as the metal door next to him swung open.

“Jaxon!” Mae dashed outside, hugging him. Recovering from his fright, he patted her shoulder, glad that he hadn’t screamed because she would’ve laughed at him all night.

“What’s up? Other than you sending me directions to my death. I thought someone was going to chop me up into little pieces right here.” He stepped back, the chains on his torn pants jingling. “You look nice.” Actually, she looked too thin, but Jax knew she’d be angry if he mentioned it.

“Of course I do. And you look very Apocalypse Now .” She gestured at his outfit.

“Mae, that movie is not about the apocalypse,” he said, adjusting the mini gas mask around his neck.

“Then it shouldn’t be called that!” She rolled her eyes, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him inside. The door banged shut behind them, and she led him down a creepy hallway to an even creepier concrete stairwell.

“Are you sure we’re not going to die here?” Jax’s voice echoed off the walls as the fluorescent lights above them flickered.

Mae tossed her head back and cackled.

“Yeah, this is sketchy as hell, but listen…” Tilting her head, she went quiet, and as silence draped around them, Jax could hear the unmistakable sound of bass in the distance.

Smiling, he hopped in excitement, and his leg throbbed again.

“This is going to be sick,” he said, shaking it out, the chains on his pants giving him away.

“You okay?” Mae glanced at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.” He waved his hand at her like it was no big deal.

“You’re getting old, Jaxon,” she winked before heading down.

“Ten months.” Following her, he held up all his fingers, palms out. “You’re ten months younger than me, ma’am.”

She stopped, turning on him and stomping her foot. “Do not ma’am me!”

“Okay, okay, sorry…” He waited until she was a flight ahead of him. “ Ma’am .” It echoed for maximum impact.

“Jaxon!” She turned again, cutely furious.

He wanted to ruffle her hair, but she’d probably push him down the stairs, so he dashed by her, heading toward the bass, which grew louder and louder as they descended.

Once he got to the bottom, he waited by the doorway, and since they could barely hear each other, Mae gave him a look that could melt steel, brushing past him down the hall.

Smirking, he followed, both of them turning a corner.

Stopping in front of the second door, Mae opened it, and it was like they’d stepped through a portal into a club.

A giant platform sat at the back of the room, surrounded by speakers, and the DJ sat atop it, hands flying over their decks.

Even though it was early, the floor was already packed, and strobing lights stilled the dancers in multicolored heartbeats.

Stepping inside, he jerked as an electric jolt of pain shot down his leg, the music drowning out his grunt. He didn’t know if he’d done something at the gym or while dancing, but this injury had been coming and going for the last month, persisting through stretches, heat, and ice.

And it would have to work itself out because he was not missing this moment.

“Lemme introduce you.” Mae swept her hand toward the DJ, and Jax nodded, straightening his posture and smoothing the sides of his hair. He got halfway there before another jolt ripped through the center of the limb, this one setting his nerves on fire, and he cringed, stopping in his tracks.

“Do you have any Tylenol?” he shouted at Mae, who stared at him, one of her flawless eyebrows raised in concern.

“I have to see,” she yelled back as they detoured to a corner with less sound.

Fishing through her bag, she pulled out a pill organizer with the days of the week on it.

“You probably shouldn’t take Tylenol if you’re going to drink, it’s bad for your liver.

” She popped open the Tuesday lid, holding a round, white pill between her fingers. “Here, this is just as good.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t think so. The last time I took something from your stash, I was manually breathing for hours.”

“What is this, high school?” She rolled her eyes. “I thought you wanted to party.”

“Yeah, and my mouth is still dry from yesterday. I need to be cool when you introduce me, not drooling and unable to form complete sentences.”

“I guess it’s amateur hour.” She tossed the pill into her mouth instead, swallowing it. “Do you want me to ask around? I can probably find you something.”

“I’m good.” He gestured toward the DJ booth. “I’ll do a few shots after I meet her.”

“Me too!” Mae led him over, and the night immediately went from wild to legendary.

Not only did he manage to sound coherent and cool while talking with the DJ, but she also let him hang in the booth for a lot of her set, and he lost his ego to the beat, letting himself be free for one last time before graduation, forgetting about school, money, his leg, and life outside the warehouse.

It was late morning when he finally stumbled home, full of joy and waffles from the diner, where he and Mae had stopped for their post-party review.

He didn’t know if it was the shots, the joint he smoked, or the adrenaline from meeting one of his heroes, but his leg had stopped bothering him early on in the night, shutting off like a switch.

It had probably given up trying to get his attention, and now his back just ached, along with the rest of him, but it was a good kind of pain because he felt sweaty, glorious, and alive.

It took him several tries to get his key in the lock, and once he did, he left a trail of clothes all the way to the bathroom. Taking another steaming-hot shower, he quickly fell into bed, his eyelids shutting before he even hit the pillow, and he smiled as he drifted off.

Tonight was one for the record books. He was definitely walking away on a high note.

And he was being ridiculous. He was acting like his life was ending when he was simply taking a break. In a few months, he’d be back on the dance floor; he just needed to push through and ace his classes.

When he opened his eyes again, the angle of the sun told him that it was late afternoon, and his bladder told him that he needed to pee. Smacking his lips to get some moisture in his mouth, he tried to turn his body, but it didn’t listen.

With a huff, he made another attempt, and that’s when he flooded with pain and panic.

Because his legs didn’t move at all.