23. Res
23
Res
I laugh at the twitch in Jaxson’s expression as he takes a sip of one of the many assorted shots and beers at our table.
“That is more vile than the last one,” he says upon putting down the shot glass.
“You didn’t even finish the entire shot.”
“Battery acid would be a more appealing drink.”
I laugh again before taking his abandoned shot and finishing it myself. I’m trying to pace myself. I don’t want to be too plastered before the trivia game I signed us up for. But I also don’t want to be completely sober right now. Because if I do allow myself to be too sober, I’ll have to think about the fact that I’m actually enjoying myself right now. Specifically, I’m enjoying myself in the company of Jaxson, the man who stands for everything that I stand against, has stalked me for the past month and a half, and assaulted me multiple times. I’ll have to face my self-loathing and the fact that—
I take another shot.
“You like this poison sludge?” Jaxson asks me .
“It’s not poison sludge. And yeah, it’s wanting for taste. But you’re not supposed to drink it for taste. You’re supposed to toss it back and feel the burn and let it loosen you up a bit,” I explain.
“Forgive me if I’m not overly eager at the idea of the loss of my faculties and senses from a drunken stupor.”
I laugh again and say, “Fine. Let’s do mimosas.”
I call the waiter over to order and end up with five different mimosa cocktails. Classic, blue mermaid, maple cinnamon crisp, strawberry crush, and spicy chai.
When they’re all brought back in their flutes, Jaxson gives them and me a dubious look.
“Oh, come on. You’ll like these. I promise,” I assure. “You like spicy chai, right? You don’t have to toss this one back.”
The only reason I know this is that the last time Jaxson sent his men to drag me to his house before Halloween, I requested they take me to get coffee. Jaxson texted me to bring him spicy chai latte.
He takes the spicy chai mimosa out of my hand and takes a timid sip, frowns, and then takes another less timid sip.
“That’s infinitely better,” he says.
“See? It’s not all that bad.”
“Maybe not. But I’ve had enough mocktails and specialty non-alcoholic drinks that I don’t get the big deal about or the necessity of the alcohol. They taste just as good without the loss of discipline and mental awareness,” Jaxson says, even as he takes another sip of the mimosa.
“That’s just your cult upbringing talking.”
“No. It’s common sense. ”
I rolls my eyes. “Stop being so uptight. Like, I get it. I used to have the same uptightness and still do sometimes from the way I grew up. But loosening up a bit and letting go of all those control freak tendencies isn’t going to hurt or kill you.”
“I think you and I both know from our upbringings that it absolutely does.”
He’s right. It does. Whether it’s accusing a girl of being a promiscuous slut and threatening to send her to a “rehabilitation house” or telling a six-year-old he’s going to die and spend the rest of eternity in a terrifying purgatory limbo.
“Well, there’s no one here watching to tell,” I say. I pause. “Except your men. But I’m sure you’ve only handpicked the most loyal. They’d probably kill themselves at the thought of betraying you.”
“They would,” he answers immediately.
I’m not sure whether he’s serious or joking, and I’m not going to ask. Instead, I watch in delight as Jaxson takes a sip of all the mimosas and pushes the ones he doesn’t want to me: those being the classic and the strawberry crush. He keeps the other three.
Ten minutes and half the classic mimosa drunk later, the live band stops playing and the manager on shift tonight begins to facilitate the animal trivia competition. A buzzer is placed in the middle of our table and the manager reads the rules and the different categories within the animal umbrella.
First up is birds.
“What is the age of the oldest wild common raven, and where was it last spotted?” the woman asks .
If this had been a trivia about obscure plants and the plant kingdom in general, I would have won that one. My grandmother was a gardener and the only consistent interaction with the world outside the bubble my parents kept me inside of with Loving Eden. So I spent a lot of time in her garden and reading all her agriculture and plant books.
But when it comes to the animal kingdom, the extent of my knowledge is which animals I want on my plate and which ones I don’t. Also, the domestic cat.
“Twenty-two years and seven months. Last spotted in Nova Scotia,” Jaxson says from next to me without hesitation.
I look at him. “Are you sure?”
Jaxson doesn’t answer, likely to mean that he wouldn’t have told me if he wasn’t sure. I roll my eyes and press the buzzer while shouting the answer Jaxson gave me.
“That’s correct,” the manager says. “A point for table five. Next question, what is the largest bird in the world by wingspan?”
I look to Jaxson. He doesn’t say anything, so I assume he doesn’t know the answer. It’s only when I turn away from him that he says to me, “The wandering albatross.”
I click the buzzer, repeat the answer, and get the point.
Four questions in, it becomes apparent as we go through the categories that Jaxson is going to be pulling the weight for our team. I try to give him the buzzard so he can click and answer. It would be faster than telling me the answer and me repeating it. But he refuses. As a result, we do lose a few questions to other teams who hit the buzzard and get the answer faster. We still win by a large margin .
The only time Jaxson does speak up is when I give one of the answers he tells me and the manager tells me I’m wrong. Jaxson insists that the manager is wrong and continues to do so for five minutes until they’re forced to look up the answer. They find that, indeed, the manager’s trivia bank is outdated, and Jaxson’s answer was correct.
We leave the bar close to midnight full on alcohol, the satisfaction of winning, and a coupon each to come back for one night and get unlimited cocktails. Unlimited with some reasonable stipulations. But it means that the next time I feel like getting hammered, my bank account won’t be hammered too.
Jaxson could drive me back to my apartment. But it’s a nice night, my apartment is literally only a few blocks away, and I need to walk off the alcohol. Besides, I’m one of the few people lucky enough to not have to drive everywhere in this stupid city so if there’s an opportunity to take advantage of it, I do.
“So you’ve got a competitive streak,” I tease.
“I don’t,” Jaxson denies.
“So what was that back there? We were ahead. There was no way we were losing. You could have let them have their stupid wrong answer.”
“I just have a hard time letting misinformation stand.”
“You seem to do it very well with the Sovereignty.”
“With great effort, I assure you,” Jaxson mutters.
“That may be true, but you’re also a competitive bastard whether you want to admit that or not. ”
Jaxson doesn’t answer, and I roll my eyes, deciding to let the argument go. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Jaxson since I met him, it’s that he’s stubborn.
We fall into silence, and I resist the urge to reach my hand out and grab Jaxson’s hand. I’ve been resisting the urge to touch him all night in fact, much to my chagrin.
Somewhere between him telling me I was going to clog my arteries with all the butter I was putting on my popcorn and answering stupid animal trivia questions, I forgot the kind of man I’m dealing with. I forgot he’s a prominent leader of a cult, seeking to convert me, and wants to be the supreme leader and prophet of said cult. I forgot that his ultimate aim is power, and he only cares about others so far as it allows him to gain that power. But tonight, he was none of that and I—
“How do you know so much about animals?” I ask, not even wanting to consider the rest of my train of thought.
“Was bored one summer as a teen. Decided to read as much as I could on animals,” Jaxson replies vaguely.
“Oh yeah? Nothing to do with weird cult stuff.”
Jaxson huffs. “Contrary to your insistence otherwise, I am more than what the Sovereignty insists I should be. I have extracurriculars that I engage in from time to time. It just doesn’t take priority over my ultimate goals.”
I roll my eyes. “Extracurriculars. You can call them hobbies. I won’t think lesser of you. I promise.”
“So you think highly of me?” he asks .
I scoff. “I said I won’t think lesser of you. In fact, I can’t think lesser of you because I think the least of you already possible.” Then, “But if you’re so much more than that, next time we can go to one of those family fun centers. But one of the good ones where they sell alcohol and good food, and it’s adults only in the evening.”
“A family fun center?” Jaxson asks. “What’s that?”
“That’s exactly why we’re going,” I say. “God. I haven’t been to one of those since… I think I was eight or nine? No. Nine. My birthday. My brother ruined it, and put a bad taste in my mouth for them after that.”
“How did he ruin it?”
I shrug. Not because I don’t want to answer but because I can’t answer. For the life of me, I can’t remember exactly what David did that ruined that day. I just know that he did, and I’ve been fighting him like a feral kitten ever since.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say eventually. “Just be prepared for next time.”
“Next time?” he asks. “Would you look at that? Development. You’re planning our next date.”
I huff. “Don’t get this wrong, asshole. If you’re going to force me to spend time with you, I’m going to fucking socialize you to the real world. Maybe you’ll learn more pop culture references than just Star Wars, the Matrix, and Snow White.”
“If that lets you sleep at night.”
I swallow a scoff. As if I’m going to be sleeping at night after this. As if after today, I’m going to be able to do anything except think about the fact that I actually enjoyed spending time with my stalker and assaulter. As if I’m going to be doing anything except sitting around, and loathing myself for—
“Why couldn’t you have just done this?” I demand, suddenly unable to keep my thoughts to myself. Damn it. I might be less sober than I think I am.
I cut Jaxson off in his path and poke him in the chest.
“Why couldn’t you be a… a… a normal guy! Who left your family’s cult! And came to me to speak out about it! And we could have bonded over our similar upbringing! And then you could have asked me on a date, and I would have gone and then…”
Jaxson takes a looming step toward me but refrains from touching me, as promised.
“Then what?” he asks.
Then… Then maybe I would be able to face the fact that in any other circumstance, I would probably be falling head over heels in love with him after this date.
“Nothing,” I snap and turn on my heel, picking up the pace to get back to my apartment.
Or, I try at least. But much like I did to him earlier, Jaxson steps in front of my path.
I open my mouth to remind him of our agreement, but predicting my next words, he says, “I’m not allowed to touch you. Blocking your path is fair game.”
“Fuck, I hate you,” I snap.
I grab the front of his shirt and push him into the brick wall of the building next to us, fully aware that the only reason I’m even able to manage is because he allows me to. “I hate that you made this stupid bet with me, and I hate that I agreed to it. Because when you’re not fucking stalking me or assaulting me or torturing people in my fucking name, I can actually fucking stand you. And I hate that all things aside, you’re actually the kind of guy that I probably would have fallen for, and I wish I could. But I can’t because I hate you. I have to hate you.”
“And who told you had to hate me?” he asks.
I open my mouth to answer but realize that I don’t have one.
The truth is, no one told me I had to hate him. No one told me that I have to hate him, despite all the heinous things he’s done to me and others. All the heinous things he probably plans to do. But I have to hate him. I have to. I…
“No one did,” Jaxson answers when I refuse to. “No one told you that you had to hate me. You only hate me because that’s what society says you’re supposed to do. Because a woman like you wanting a man like me would only make you a hypocrite. You’ve been talking all about my cult upbringing dictating what I do, but really it’s a projection. Because if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t really care what others thought about you. You wouldn’t care about being a hypocrite. The only thing that would matter is you and what you want.”
I grit my teeth at him. He’s wrong. He’s completely wrong. But also, he’s completely right.
“You want to know why I chose you?” he asks. “You want to know why of all the women who would throw themselves at me, why I chose you even though you fight me every step of the way? It’s because we’re not that different. Deep down, you’re just as mad and depraved as I am. The only difference between you and me is that I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a mad and depraved man. And I take what I want and take it regardless of the consequences. You worry too much about things like being kind and what people think of you. Think of what we can do together once you stop fighting what you really want. Once you stop fighting me.”
In this moment, with my inhibitions lowered by alcohol and exhausted from this game, I consider it. I ignore all the warning bells telling me that Jaxson is using classic cult and high demand religion conversion tactics. Making us seem like we are exactly the same and want the same things except for some small ant hill that I’m making into an insurmountable mountain. I silence all that and seriously consider not fighting him. I consider going against everything I believe in and stand for and let myself picture this future that Jaxson has envisioned for me. For us.
Before I can consider it, though, I realize how close I am to Jaxson. I remember that when I’m not busy being terrified of him or hating him, I do find him attractive. I find myself wooed by those dark grey eyes.
With all my other objections silenced in this moment, I realize there’s nothing stopping me from kissing him.
I lean forward. He leans away with a chuckle.
“If you want to kiss me, Lauressa, you’re going to have to ask,” he says.
He may not care about my consent, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to care about his.
“Kiss me, Jaxson. ”
This time when I lean forward, he meets me halfway, and presses his lips to mine. For the first time, I experience the chemistry of what could be between us. The electricity. The power. It zings through me. Jaxson pulls my body flush against his, increasing the heat between us, reminding me of the first hug he gave me. Except now, my skin feels like it’s on fire.
He pries my mouth open and pushes his tongue inside. If not for him holding me against him, I’d melt to the ground like a snowflake does when it hits the ground in a Georgia winter that’s not cold enough to sustain it.
Heat pools in my center, and I’m not the only one, judging by Jaxson’s hard cock poking into my stomach through his pants. If it wasn’t considered indecent, I’d probably let him fuck me right now in the middle of the street against this wall.
Suddenly, I remember who I’m kissing and why I shouldn’t let him fuck me even if we were safely in the privacy of my apartment.
I put my hands flat on Jaxson’s chest and push myself away from him.
“Fuck,” I mutter, quickly walking the remaining block to my apartment, all the while cursing myself. What the fuck am I thinking? What. The. Fuck.
I make it all the way to my apartment door before Jaxson catches up with me. He grabs me and slams me back against my door.
“Snow White,” he says, holding my wrists behind my back and pressing kisses down my jaw and neck. “You are lucky I need to take my time with converting you. Otherwise, I’d take you into your apartment, strip you naked, and fuck you until your throat became raw from your screams of resistance turned to ones of pleasure.”
“You will never convert me,” I say through grit teeth.
“That depends on if your righteous conviction is stronger than your fear of being alone.”
That strikes a nerve. Both because he’s right and because he only knows this since I all but said I was lonely at dinner.
Despite its futility, I try to use my bodyweight to throw Jaxson off me. It only makes him press his body harder against mine and grind his erection into me. I grit my teeth again, feigning more disgust with him than I actually can muster, considering I was just turned on by that same erection just minutes ago.
“And to think, for a while there, I was convinced you weren’t a monster,” I snarl.
“A monster you begged to kiss you,” Jaxson reminds.
“A moment of alcohol induced insanity, I assure you.”
“Maybe. Either way, I look forward to your phone calls this week while I’m in Chicago. You can visit Nala if you want.”
I blink. “Chicago. Wait a minute. You—”
Jaxson silences me with another kiss. Forceful and bruising, but leaving me no less breathless than I was left earlier.
He leaves me at my door, angry, duped, conflicted, and needy all at once.