12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Jax
When they said we were bringing the party downstairs, I pictured some damp, old cellar with cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, cold cement floors, maybe even rusty pipes leaking in the corner. Basements aren’t really a thing in Cardiff, and if you had one, chances are you were loaded.
What I didn’t expect was to find a huge room with shiny hardwood floors, leather sofas arranged in a big horseshoe, and even a pool table tucked in the corner.
I can already hear Gareth raving that he was right about them being rich.
James flops onto one of the sofas with a grunt, then kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. “We should play a drinking game,” he says.
Gareth knocks James’s legs off the table. “What are we, twelve?”
“Actually,” Ana jumps in, leaning forward and sliding the bottles we brought down closer, “we could play Answer or Drink.”
Allie groans next to me and scrunches her face. “Ugh. I suck at that game. I never know what to ask.”
“No, it’s easy. Watch,” Ana says with a grin, turning in her seat to face James. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Red,” he says with a shrug like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.
“See?” Ana throws her hands up. “Easy.”
“Ooh! I’ve got one!” Allie’s other friend blurts out, suddenly sitting up straighter. She turns to Gareth. “Have you ever had a one-night stand?”
Gareth smirks, totally unbothered. “Of course I have.”
“Jesus Christ, Nora.” Allie groans, dropping her face into her hands like she’s dying from secondhand embarrassment.
Nora ! That was it. It felt too weird to ask her name since we’re in their house and all. I’d been silently praying someone would say it out loud and finally, it paid off.
When I look up, everyone’s eyes are on me, and my face instantly heats. Go figure. I can handle a few hundred fans on stage, but stick me in a room with friends? Hard pass on the center of attention ordeal.
What the hell am I even supposed to ask? I’m definitely not asking her about her one-night stands if that’s how this game is supposed to go.
My hand grips the back of my neck nervously before my eyes land on Allie beside me. She must notice how frazzled I look right now because she gives me a friendly smile, and my hand automatically relaxes and falls back to my lap.
“What is your favorite hobby, Allie?” I ask quietly, unsure if anyone even heard me with how low it came out.
“Reading,” she says gently.
Somehow, that doesn’t shock me in the least bit. I can picture her in front of a fireplace, legs dangling off the side of an armchair with a book in her lap.
She takes a sip from her water bottle and slowly twists the cap back on. “Where did you grow up, Jax?”
“Cardiff.”
Okay, this isn’t so bad. I could answer these types of questions no problem.
“Alright you pansies. My turn,” Gareth states, leaning forward on his knees as his eyes pin Allie like she’s about to get an interrogation. “Tell us, Allie. What’s a questionable thing you like during sex?”
Her cheeks instantly turn pink while she stammers. She looks at everyone in the room before leaning over to grab a shot and downs it easily.
“Oh, come on. We’re all friends here.” Ana chuckles before nudging her with her elbow. “By the way, did you ever tell your life insurance that you like to be choked?”
James sputters into his cup from laughing, causing the droplets to splatter across the table.
If I thought she was blushing before, she’s full-on crimson now. I’m trying my hardest not to laugh, but with James howling right beside me it’s easier said than done.
Although, I never pegged her for a necklace lover.
I toss James a tissue from the table and grab another to clean up my now-wet knee. My nose wrinkles as I wipe it clean, giving him daggers.
Nora clears her throat from across the table, her eyes fixed on me with her eyebrow raised slightly. “Jax,” she says, her voice dripping with something mixed between curiosity and hesitance. “What ended your last relationship?”
A chill runs down my spine, and my body freezes. My eyes land on Gareth, and I watch his smile quickly fall before he closes his eyes and sighs.
I grab for a shot, downing the entire thing in one swallow. The alcohol slides down my throat, burning the whole way before it lands in the pit of my stomach.
Keeping my eyes on my lap while everyone around us goes quiet, I lean back against the sofa. All I can hear is Gareth scratching at his chin and James clearing his throat. They both know not to bring up Emelia, but I can’t blame Nora for not knowing.
Still, the question rattles me. It’s sending my mind spiraling back to the images I’ve spent an entire year trying to erase.
The bedroom door slightly ajar, a men’s bike jacket draped across my office chair, and the insurmountable shock of finding her in bed with someone else the day I came back from tour.
What a way to welcome me home.
I’m trying not to show how bothered I am, but I’m clearly doing a shit job of it since Allie is staring up at me like she’s about to throw her arms around me. As if she can see right through the mask I’m trying to slip back on.
I offer her a tight, forced smile, wanting to tell her it’s fine, but the words won’t come out. I can barely lift the corner of my mouth for a smile, never mind spewing out two words.
God, I need air. I don’t want to be the reason the night is suddenly ruined, but how can I slip away without anyone putting two and two together? Or without seeming rude.
I try to shove it down enough not to feel it, although it’s proving to be impossible. Then, I slowly force my gaze to Ana.
Fake it ‘til you make it, right?
“Who is your idol?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
She tilts her head, thinking for a moment before answering, “Selena. Definitely Selena.”
“ Gomez ?” Gareth blurts, his brow raised with his drink halfway to his mouth.
Allie and Nora both slowly turn their heads toward him, eyes wide with their jaws dropped to the floor.
“Oh shit,” Nora mutters. “You have no idea what you just started.”
Well, Ana’s not smiling anymore. Instead, her eyes narrow before abruptly throwing her hands in the air.
“This beans-on-toast-eating motherfucker did not just say that!” she shouts. Although she has a somewhat smirk on her face now.
It is fair on both accounts though. Gareth did put Selena Gomez above Selena Quintanilla, who are two totally different people with two totally different fan bases. And his breakfast practically every morning is beans on toast.
While everyone debates back and forth about Gomez vs Quintanilla, my eyes fall back to the floor. My mind slowly drifting back to that dark place I’ve crawled myself out of so many times that I’ve lost count.
Anxiety grips my throat while I sit here with every memory rushing back like a slap to the face. I’m about twenty seconds away from full-blown panic when a warm hand appears on my knee, and it stops bouncing immediately.
I didn’t even realize it was shaking until the warmth of her hand settled it.
I look at Allie while she tilts her head and offers me an understanding smile.
She slowly removes her hand, and the look in her eyes tells me everything’s okay…
but right now it just doesn’t feel like it.
I haven’t felt this lost in literal weeks.
And one reminder of when everything started going wrong just sends everything crashing down.
She breathes in deeply before turning her attention back to everyone who’s still bickering back and forth.
“Well,” she says loudly. All heads turn to her, their arms slowly dropping but smiles still spread across their faces. “I think I’m done with the hard stuff tonight. Would anybody else like some wine?”
Ana narrows her eyes at Allie, pursing her lips. “I thought I told you no more playing host tonight?”
“I’d love some,” I jump in, glancing between them. “I’ll come help.”
Ana points a slow, dramatic finger at Allie. “You’re lucky,” she says teasingly.
Allie and I make our way to the stairs just as my vision decides to tunnel. My head is pounding, and not from the one measly shot. But I really needed to get away for a minute, and she somehow just knew .
When we finally reach them, I grasp onto the rail and turn toward her.
“Thank you,” I mutter, looking into her eyes so she can see how much I mean it.
She tilts her head and offers me a sweet smile. “No need,” she says with a shrug.
And I believe it.
She strikes me as someone who has the gift of being able to read others. Their emotions, what they need without them saying, but there’s one question that keeps popping up in my head every time I look at her.
Does someone do the same for her? Makes sure she’s heard and seen. Someone to take care of her soul so it doesn’t turn to ash.
I guess that’s something I’ll find out when I get my head out of my ass.