45. Tatum
45
TATUM
I t’s been a week since Pax found my journal. I never thought it would see the light of day. Having it see the light of day by the guy you’re talking about in said journal? That was an entirely new mindfuck, but I survived it.
He didn’t mention it afterward, and I’m grateful. Even so, there’s something comforting about…about not being alone anymore. That journal contains my deepest, darkest secrets. And even though I know he didn’t have enough time to dive into every page, knowing he had time to dive into at least one and still stick around is cathartic, almost. Like maybe I’m enough, broken pieces and all.
Or maybe I’m simply feeling particularly sentimental since I haven’t seen him recently. Pax has been missing since Tuesday. And even though I’ve been elbow deep in cleaning houses—Pax’s included—to stay busy, it’s been strange. Not having him around. I’ve missed it—missed him—more than I’ve even wanted to acknowledge, if I’m being completely honest. Add in the reason for his absence, and I’m a mess. Who volunteers for the Make-A-Wish Foundation, anyway? Paxton Six, that’s who.
Shoving the reminder of all things Pax aside, I watch Rory in the kitchen as she finishes zipping her backpack. “You sure you have to go to the library?” I ask.
Rory nods and slides it over her shoulder. “Yeah, sorry. Pretty sure this semester is going to kill me, but you can come with me if you want.”
“And be bored out of my mind?” I shake my head. “You know I love you, but no one can make me do that.”
She laughs. “Well, all right, then. You good hanging out here by yourself? I can always leave Hades if you?—”
“I’m good,” I reply, trying not to look desperate. “Besides, Hades likes to throw off my groove anyway. I’ll just stay here, sneak into your ice cream, maybe watch a movie or two, it’ll be?—”
My phone buzzes, and I look at the screen, finding a message from Pax. My stupid heart skips a beat. I roll my eyes out of principle. Seriously? Come on, heart. You know better than this even if he is kind of perfect.
Sliding my thumb across the screen, I open his message and melt a little more into the cushions on my bed.
Pax
Hey, Birthday Girl.
Me
Why hello, Mr. Security.
Pax
Missing you.
“There’s that smile again,” Rory notes.
Feeling like I got caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar, I flip my phone facedown in my lap, jerking my head toward my best friend. “What smile?”
She grins. “That one. I like to call it the Paxton effect.”
I shake my head. “Nerd.”
“You know you love it.” She snaps Hades’ leash onto his collar. “By the way, can you thank him for me?”
“For what?”
“For making me feel less guilty about ditching you tonight. Make sure you lock up when you leave.”
“Who says I’m leaving?” I counter as she heads toward the door.
“Aw, you’re cute.” Grasping the handle, she twists it and opens the front door. “Love you!”
I bite my lip to keep from arguing with her when we both know she might be onto something. Instead, I reply, “Love you!” as the front door closes behind her.
Satisfied I’m alone, I unlock my phone again, finding another text from Pax.
Pax
This is the part where you say you miss me, too.
Me
Do I?
Pax
Shit, I hope so.
My mouth lifts.
Me
Miss you, too.
Pax
Good or else this would be really awkward.
Knock, knock.
My head snaps toward the front door.
Is he really here?
Unfolding myself from my bed, I pad toward the entrance and rise onto my tiptoes to peek through the peephole.
There he is. Chocolate shakes in hand.
Unlocking the door, I lean against the doorjamb, saying, “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t getting in until tomorrow.”
“Changed my flight.” His gaze slides down my body, dancing with mirth. “I like your outfit.”
After a quick glance at my body, I grimace. “It’s a coincidence.”
“Sure, it is.”
I tug on the hem of the IndieCent Vows hoodie I purchased online a few years ago and clear my throat. “So?”
“So…” He moves forward, and my nostrils fill with the familiar scent of his cologne, making my mouth water.
I don’t know how he does it. How he can make me want him like this. Physically. Emotionally. I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed him. I missed him a lot. And being near him again? It’s like a drug. One I’m too weak to stay away from.
Maybe it’s time for a new note.
The thought flutters through me before I have a chance to stop it, leaving me a little anxious, but also at peace because if I know anything about the man in front of me? He’s worth it all.
“So, am I allowed to come in or are you going to keep eye fucking me in the hallway?” he asks.
With a smile, I open the door the rest of the way and reach for one of the shakes. As he steps over the threshold, I scoop a giant bite of icy, creamy, heaven-sent deliciousness into my mouth, then walk toward my bed. He follows, closing the door behind him and leaning against it, his gaze never leaving me.
“So I take it you’re happy to see me?”
“I mean, you did bring me a chocolate shake, so…”
His smirk widens. “Glad I’m good for some—” His phone rings, cutting him off, and he takes it out of his pocket.
“Who is it?” I ask.
Without looking up at me, he mutters, “Roman.”
“Are you going to answer it?”
His head bobs slowly, and he lifts his cell to his ear. “Hello?”
Pause.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” Pax asks.
Pause.
“What do you mean, change of plans?”
I wait, more curious than I’d like to admit.
He sighs. “Yeah, I know the place.”
Pause.
“Tonight?” Pax asks.
Pause.
Pax’s gaze connects with mine, and he sighs again. “Yeah, I know you told me these things move quick, but I didn’t think?—”
Roman must cut him off because his molars grind, and he shifts his cell to his opposite ear. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there. See you then.”
The call goes dead, and Pax looks down at me again, finding my attention solely on him. He doesn’t seem too frustrated, only caught off-guard, maybe? Honestly, I’m not sure.
Licking some of the excess shake from my spoon, I ask, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He continues his stare and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “It seems there’s a…change of plans.”
“I heard.” I shovel another bite into my mouth. “Does this mean you’re leaving?”
“Yeah, the, uh, the fight’s tonight.”
“Like the underground, shady AF fight?” I ask. “ That fight?”
His mouth lifts. “That’s the one.”
“Oh.” I pause, attempting to hide my disappointment. “Okay. Well, good luck, I guess? Will you at least let me know how it goes or whatever?”
“You could always come with me,” he suggests.
“Come with you?”
“Yeah. Although, if you want me to be able to focus tonight, you might want to change.” He takes in my bare legs and bites his knuckle like he can hardly keep his hands to himself.
My lower belly heats with the simple look, but I ignore it, challenging, “And why would I need you to focus?”
“So I don’t get my ass kicked?”
My spoon hovers an inch from my mouth. “You’re serious?”
“You mentioned a raincheck, remember?”
Giving in, I unfold myself from my bed. “Here.” I hand him my barely touched shake. “Hold this. I’ll be out in ten.”
I take my time with my makeup, making sure it’s on point before I exit the bathroom. When Pax sees me, his lips part and his eyes trail down my body, taking in my black crop top, low-slung jeans, leather jacket, and cherry-red heels—the same ones he purchased for me.
When his gaze meets mine, a muttered, “Fuck,” slips past his lips, and I smile.
“You like?”
“I like a lot.” He stands from the edge of my bed and strides toward me. When he reaches me, his hands slide along my waist, pulling me into him. “Maybe a little too much.”
“So, it works?” I prod. “For wherever you’re taking me? You didn’t give me much to go off?—”
“Trust me, it works.” His attention dips to my cherry-red lips. “It works perfectly.”
“Good.” My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I fight back a smile. Reaching for his hands around my waist, I unwrap them from me and step back. “Now, where’s my shake?”
“Freezer,” he answers.
“Perfect. I’ll eat the rest later. Let’s go.”
When we reach his bike parked outside, he slips one of the helmets onto my head, bringing with it a strong shot of deja vu. The memory of all those nights ago at the concert where we first met. Maybe it’s the darkness enveloping us. Maybe it’s the smell. Or maybe it’s me and how much I’ve changed since we first met. Since I first climbed onto the back of his bike.
I had so many walls back then. So many barriers. So many fears. And now? Now, all I feel is peace, and it’s because of the man in front of me.
“Fuck, you look hot,” Pax rasps. Gripping the bottom of the helmet, he drags me into him and steals a kiss through the gap from the open visor. And even though it’s quick, my toes curl in my heels, and my knees go weak before he pulls away and snaps the screen closed.
I’m not sure how long we drive, but by the time we pull off the main road, my butt feels like it’s being poked with pins and needles, and any glimpse of the ocean is long behind us. Is this The Drift? Is this where Pax grew up? He’s told me things here and there, but we’ve never visited. I’ve never asked him to take me here. Not unless he was ready. And even though I know one of the main reasons we’re making this visit is because Roman set up a fight, Paxton didn’t have to invite me to tag along. He didn’t have to open that door. The reminder makes me feel like I’m being wrapped in my favorite blanket, and I squeeze his waist a little tighter in silent thanks. That he trusts me. That he wants me here. In his life.
A few minutes later, we pull off the road into a large parking lot filled to the brim. Half the spots are lined with expensive cars. The other half is brimming with motorcycles like the one I’m on. Interesting. Paxton made it sound like there wasn’t a lot of money in The Drift. This parking lot proves otherwise. Bright muscle cars, exotic black luxury vehicles, suped-up bikes. They’re peppered around the lot, making me feel like I stepped into a James Bond movie.
Seriously. What is this place?
Pax pulls into an empty spot, then cuts the engine as I stare up at the old industrial building. After he climbs off the motorcycle, Pax lifts my helmet, undoing the strap beneath my chin. I kind of like how he takes care of me like this. Without a request. Without a suggestion. Like he’s so aware of my needs, he can anticipate them before I even recognize them myself.
Oof. That’s a little scary, isn’t it? Or at least, it should be. If I’m being honest, a lot of scary things have seemed less terrifying with Pax around, and I can’t decide if I’m getting braver or if Pax is the culprit behind the change.
I stick a pin in the realization and turn to the cinderblock building. A heavy beat filters from the dimly-lit windows. It also reminds me of the first time we met, when I snuck into Paxton’s performance, though this time it’s a completely different event, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
“You nervous?” I murmur.
“About the fight? Nah, it’ll be fine.” He tacks on a rueful smile. “Besides, even if I lose, you can take care of me after.”
I roll my eyes, attempting to keep my rising—and completely misplaced—anxiety at bay. “Well, isn’t that comforting.”
“Don’t worry, Birthday Girl. I’ll be fine.” His hand finds mine. Lifting it into the air, he kisses my knuckles. “Where’s your phone?”
I pull it out of my pocket, and he takes it, sliding it into one of the side bags on his bike. As I watch it disappear, I ask, “Why do you need my phone?”
“Phones aren’t allowed in the building.”
“Why?”
He locks the side bag, offering his hand. “So it can’t be used against anyone inside.”
“That sounds promising.”
“Welcome to The Drift,” he quips. “Come on. I don’t want to be late.”