Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
JAXON WILDE
Alot’s going through my head as she bops over, light on her feet. Ashley is the very definition of “bubbly.”
The only time I’ve seen her deviate from that bubbly self was on the reunion stage—when she tried to topple Zara and take her place.
My eyes lock on her tight, shiny pants—second skin. She’s also wearing a tight tank top. I bet if she were in Zara’s shoes, she’d wear stuff like that around me every day.
We’d have definitely had sex by now. Day one.
“All hail camel toe,” Barber murmurs under his breath. “It’s all for you.”
“Jaxon,” Ashley sings, weaving her way through tables.
She initiates the hug we share.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, pulling back.
“I saw you through the window and thought, Oh my God, it’s Jaxon! I should come say hi. So here I am.” She pinches her shoulders up and gives me a little wave, like I’m a puppy.
I grunt. “Hmph.”
Force a smile.
Funny thing is—her being here kind of makes me glad Anne checkmated us into sticking it out with Zara.
“You wanna sit?” Barber asks, already pulling out a chair.
“Yes,” she says, way too brightly.
“So what brings you to San Diego?” I ask.
“Just visiting family.”
That smile of hers barely wavers.
“Ah,” I say. “You never mentioned having family in San Diego.”
“Yes, I did,” she says with a soft chuckle, patting my shoulder. Her palm’s damp—I can feel it through my T-shirt.
I search my memory for a time she said that. Nothing.
But that doesn’t mean she’s lying. One of the worst parts of being the show’s Prince Charming was keeping track of what I said to each woman—and what they said to me.
That show was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. The women wanted every single ounce of me. But I got it. There was only one of me and, what, nineteen of them?
Zara couldn’t care less about being in my company.
And yeah, that bothered me.
Sure, I acted like an ass when I first saw her step out of the limo, but that’s because it was weird. She’s a well-known actress, for God’s sake. I’d even seen her once at a party in West Hollywood.
I don’t know why she was there. She looked bored. So I tried to liven things up—said hello.
She looked me up and down like I was scum, then past me like I didn’t exist, and walked away.
Honestly, that’s why I said what I said when she stepped out of the limo.
Petty? Yeah.
But even though she says she forgave me, I don’t think she really has.
Anyway. I don’t know what to say to Ashley.
“Listen up,” Barber says, hopping off his stool with ballet-like grace. “I gotta get back to the old lady.”
“Oh,” I say. “I’m telling Genesis you called her that.”
He points a finger at me. “Bro code, dude.”
I nod. Fair.
Barber turns to Ashley. “Nice to meet you,” he says, then heads out the door.
I watch him until he’s gone, wishing I could follow.
I don’t feel right being out in public with another contestant—especially after ditching Zara today.
“How are you, Jaxon?” Ashley asks.
I snap my eyes back to her. “I’m fine.”
Why does she look so sympathetic? Like I’m in a bad situation with Zara or something.
“I heard you’re living with her now?”
Her bright, glassy eyes blink at me like she’s waiting for a fairytale confession.
“We’re getting close. Splitting our time.”
Then I squint at her. “But who told you we were living together?”
It just happened yesterday.
She drops her gaze to the table. “Top Rag Mag – West mentioned it.”
I grunt, rubbing my chin.
Anne’s team must’ve leaked it.
“Do you ever…” She leans in close, draping her long hair over her shoulder between us. I can feel her body heat. “Do you ever think about me?”
In a million years, I can’t picture Zara asking me this question.
None of my exes, either.
And this is why I always had a bad feeling about Ashley. She’s just not my type.
Even with those tight pants.
Which, by the way, aren’t even making my pants tight.
“Hey,” I say, scooting off my stool. “I gotta go. But—good seeing you.”
“Wait.”
She grabs my arm—tight, desperate.
Now I’m worried. People are starting to notice us.
“What?” I say, sharper than I mean to.
Her eyes are wide. Almost teary. They dart around my face, searching for something.
I don’t want to frown at her. She’s a nice girl.
So I make a hard effort to look neutral.
“Don’t you miss us?” she asks. “Because I miss you all the time.”
I sigh.
I realize now—I have to break her heart.
Thwart her dream of being with me.
Otherwise, she’ll never let this go.
“Ashley…”
I gently pull my arm free. “It was just a show. You know that. You signed the NDA too.”
I pause.
“I made my choice. And I’m sticking with her.”
A beat.
“Goodbye.”
And on that note, I get the hell out of there.
That was unsettling.
So much so, I can’t wait to see Zara.