19. Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen
Jax
“Ready to stop staring at that thing yet?” Gareth nods at the phone resting on the counter.
He takes a slow pull from his beer, eyes pinned on me skeptically.
I mean, I can’t really blame him. I have been glued to my screen for the last forty-five minutes waiting for Allie to text back. At this point, I’m starting to think she’s not going to, and I’m just sitting here looking like an idiot.
James drops onto the stool next to me, a beer in each hand. “Here,” he says, offering me one. “You look like you could use it.”
I shake my head and wave him off. “I’m good, man.”
“Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug, already sliding off the seat.
My eyes drift right back to the phone. Still nothing.
Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if it’s even her or just my phone acting up.
I didn’t even own one back in Cardiff. The guys forced me to get one when we came to America.
Although it’s not like I’ve had much use for it since I don’t even talk to anyone outside this room.
It wasn’t until now that I wanted to use the damn thing and the cell towers are refusing. That or she doesn’t want to give me mixed signals about last night. That’s also a very strong possibility.
Gareth suddenly waves a hand in front of my face. “Mate, what’s up? I’ve never seen you on that thing longer than three minutes, never mind an hour.”
“He’s waiting on Allie to text him,” James teases, and I shoot him a glare.
He holds his hands up in surrender and walks backward toward Casey.
“What are you, twelve?” Casey says, balling up a napkin and tossing it at James’s face.
Then, my phone finally buzzes.
My throat tightens like it’s caught in a vice as my hand flies out, snatching it off the worktop before anyone can see.
Allison
We can talk if you want. I’m so sorry about last night…
My brow furrows while I stare at the message.
Sorry for what?
Allison
I mean, I don’t remember much but I remember basically trying to jump your bones lol
Do you not remember me also saying I didn’t want to take advantage of a drunk woman?
Allison
…no, I don’t recall that part.
I let out a quiet laugh, wiping my mouth with my hand, eyes still locked on the screen.
Suddenly, a beer bottle crashes to the floor, sending my heart into my throat. I look up just in time to see Casey practically tackling James, trying to put him in a headlock.
“Hey! Knock it off, you two,” Don calls out from the doorway, his arms crossed.
“Fucking take it back!” Casey yells.
James is cracking up. “It’s not my fault, bro! Don’t make eye contact with me when you sip your beer like that!”
Casey punches him in the arm. Loud enough to echo across the kitchen.
God. It’s like living with a bunch of pre-schoolers.
Gareth heads over, and for a second, I think he’s going to break it up—but nope. He grabs James from behind, locking his arms back while Casey rushes to scoop a spoonful of guacamole off the counter.
James freezes. “No, no—don’t you fucking dare,” he warns, still laughing.
Casey moves on to grab a bottle of hot sauce from the fridge, dumps a generous glob onto the spoon, and stalks toward James like a predator.
It’s way too fucking loud in here, and my anxiety is already soaring through the goddamn roof. I glance down at Allie’s message and quickly type out:
Do you maybe want to meet up so we can talk in person?
She doesn’t respond right away. Long enough for Casey to jam the spoon into James’s mouth and for him to start screaming bloody murder.
Pre-school .
Allison
Sure. I’ll tell the girls I want to go out alone for a bit. Where should I meet you?
I shoot back the hotel address, asking her to meet me downstairs at the bar, and jam my phone into my pocket. Without saying a word, I grab the keycard from the wall and head straight for the door.
“Where you headed?” Don asks, eyeing me over the rim of his glasses.
“For a walk,” I answer nonchalantly.
He raises a brow like he’s debating whether or not to call bullshit.
I grin. “Come on, it’s me. You know you can trust me.”
He huffs out a laugh and nods slowly. “Yeah. Just don’t make me regret it,” he says. “And don’t make my job harder,” he adds, tilting his head toward the chaos behind me, where the guys are now trying to stuff something else in James’s mouth.
Pressing my lips together, I swing the door open and head straight for the lift, my heart pounding a mile a minute the entire way.
I rub my hands together, squeezing tightly to relieve the pressure and step inside. The doors close slowly, and I listen to the machinery hum and clank. With how full my head already feels, it’s almost deafening as it begins its descent to the lobby.
When the doors finally open, the bar right across the hall is lit up in that soft, blue glow from the overhead signs.
I step out… and then freeze.
Am I really about to do this?
I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s never even crossed my mind.
How does someone even propose something like this without sounding like a pervert? But maybe she’s thinking about the same things that I am and is too afraid to mention it. The second I had a taste of her, and the way she moaned into my mouth though? It planted itself deeper into my brain.
If I thought I wanted her before, it’s nothing compared to after that .
Now I don’t just want more—I need more.
Thankfully, the bar isn’t overly crowded. There are only about four people sitting along the far wall. Which leaves Allie and me with plenty of space to talk without the risk of someone trying to listen in and offer to join us.
The thought alone sends a shiver to run down my spine.
Then the hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I reach up to smooth them down. That’s when Allie slides onto the stool next to me, her hands resting lightly on the bar. She gives me a small, nervous smile, her eyes bouncing around the room. Probably thinking the same thing I was when I walked in.
Swingers and all.
She sits there with her hair slightly messy but still just as beautiful as ever.
She was blessed with the kind of beauty that doesn’t even require true effort, like she could have her hair tied in a bun, chip stains lining her mouth, and I’d still have to fight the urge not to press my lips to hers.
“Do you want to order a drink?” I ask her quietly, unable to take my eyes off her face.
She shakes her head and laughs softly. “No, thank you. I swore off alcohol this morning after what happened last night.”
I spin on my stool, leaning my elbow on the bar. “What do you remember from last night?”
I sure remember it crystal clear. Her shimmying out of her dress, the taste of tequila on her lips, and the way she moaned low into my mouth…
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t think about that right this second.
She slowly turns toward me, her eyes still avoiding mine as a beautiful tinge of pink colors her cheeks.
“I remember kissing you”—she glances down—“and… liking it, but that’s really it. The rest kind of blurs together.”
My chest tightens, the anxiety of just saying what I need to say gnawing at me. It’s always been easier to stay quiet and retreat into myself, but I can’t. Not now.
Grow a pair and just say it.
“So, you don’t remember me telling you that if you weren’t drunk, I wouldn’t have pulled away?
” I ask, then a grin slowly tugs at the corner of my lips, my heart still pounding with my mind begging me to shut the fuck up.
But I press on. “Or that I wanted to have you sober and clear-headed before I ripped your clothes off?”
I watch her eyes widen, and at first, I think I might have pushed too far and immediately regret how I said that. But then she slowly turns her head toward me, and our eyes lock.
“Alright, maybe I didn’t use those exact words,” I say with a chuckle. “But it is what I was thinking.”
She raises an eyebrow, mulling it over. “So, what does this mean exactly? We just… what? Become fuck buddies until my vacation is over?”
“Eh, I’m not a huge fan of that wording, but essentially, yeah. If that’s something you’re comfortable with, of course.”
She nods slowly, and I swear the butterflies in my chest are about to burst right through me.
“Okay,” she says softly, barely above a whisper.
For a second, I think I imagined it… until a smile spreads across her lips. Then I have to fight the urge not to throw her over my shoulder and find the nearest empty room. Hell, a bloody wardrobe would do if she keeps looking at me like that.
What the hell is going on with me?
I haven’t wanted sex since Emelia—not from anyone. Then the second Allie’s dress hit the floor in her bedroom? Something changed, and now it’s all I can think about.
I feel like a fucking teenager hitting puberty all over again.
I nod, dragging a hand through my hair. “Alright. I think we need some ground rules.”
A waiter swings by, sliding a glass of ice water in front of each of us. Allie grabs hers quickly, her lips wrapping around the straw as she takes a long sip.
My eyes lock on her mouth and the way her cheeks hollow just a little. Jesus Christ, even that is making my balls tighten painfully.
“What sort of rules?” she asks, and my gaze snaps back to hers.
Well… I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I didn’t expect her to say yes. What kind of rules do you even set for something like this?
“First one’s a big one,” I say, holding up a finger. “If it ever starts to feel like too much, we stop. If it doesn’t feel right anymore, or either of us gets uncomfortable, we stop immediately. No questions asked.”
“That’s a good one,” she says, nodding. “And this stays between us. Nobody needs to know our business. I’d never hear the end of it.”
I wince, shrugging. “That one might be tough. The guys are always up all night. It’s gonna be hard to slip away without them noticing.”
“Okay,” she sighs. “Gareth can know. But James cannot know. He and Ana are way too close.”
I nod. “Agreed. We can meet here, rent a room on a different floor or something,” I offer with a shrug.
She takes a slow breath, then nods, meeting my eyes.
“We’re really doing this?” she asks quietly.
“Only if you want to,” I remind her. “There’s absolutely no pressure.”
She shifts in her seat, turning until our knees touch, then extends her hand. I take it and give it a simple shake.
“It’s a deal,” I say with a grin.
She smiles. “It’s a deal.”
The low hum of the bar fills the silence between us. Glasses clink, someone laughs from across the room, but it all feels far away. Right now, it feels like it’s just us.
Making a deal I’m not entirely sure I can keep my end of.
How are we supposed to do this with no strings attached when all I want are the strings?
I guess I’ll settle for what I can get—even if it’s just these moments of pretending I’m not constantly thinking about her.