Chapter 10 #2
What happened to ‘everyone’s busy’? This is betrayal. This is mutiny. This is a conspiracy that would make the CIA proud.
“Get in, Lan.” Jaxson’s voice sent shivers down my spine.
He said it so normally, like he hadn’t had his hand down my pants less than twelve hours ago.
Like he hadn’t whispered in my ear while I came apart in his arms. Like everything was perfectly normal and not at all the most awkward situation in the history of awkward situations.
My body moved on autopilot, sliding into the back seat like a coward.
Strategic positioning, I told myself. Can’t make accidental eye contact if you’re behind him.
Can’t accidentally touch him if there’s a physical barrier between us.
Can’t accidentally confess your undying love if you’re busy hyperventilating in the back seat.
The car ride was torture. Every bump in the road made me bounce in my seat, hyperaware of Jaxson behind the wheel.
I tried to focus on anything else—the trees, other cars, the meaning of life, whether penguins have knees—but Wei seemed determined to make this as awkward as possible.
He was like a sadistic game show host, except instead of prizes, he was handing out emotional trauma.
“Beautiful day,” Wei commented, glancing at the cloudy sky from the passenger seat like we were in a convertible in Malibu instead of a sedan in New York under what looked like impending rain.
“Everyone sleep well last night? I heard some… interesting noises. Almost like someone was having trouble sleeping. Or maybe they were just… handling some tension?”
I choked on air, possibly my own soul trying to escape my body. In the rearview mirror, I saw Jaxson’s ears turn pink. Even the tips of his ears were unfairly attractive. It should be illegal to have attractive ear tips. I’d write to my congressman about it.
“The traffic’s bad today,” Jaxson cut in quickly, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Oh yes, lots of… coming and going.” Wei smirked, emphasizing the words in a way that made me want to open the door and roll out onto the highway. “Perfect weather for… releasing tension.”
We hit a pothole, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, a small squeak escaping me.
“Sorry,” Jaxson murmured, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror for a split second.
Those eyes—I could have sworn they flashed with that strange amber-gold intensity I’d noticed last night.
I suddenly became fascinated with the seat belt fabric.
Such interesting weave patterns. I could write a dissertation on this seat belt.
“Seat Belts: The Unsung Heroes of Awkward Car Rides.”
“The roads are terrible lately,” Wei mused, stroking his chin like some cartoon villain. “So many… hard situations to navigate. Kind of like family dynamics, wouldn’t you say?” He paused thoughtfully. “Speaking of family, remember when Lan used to crawl into Jaxson’s bed during thunderstorms?”
“I was eleven!” I protested, my voice embarrassingly squeaky, like I’d inhaled helium. “And there was that one time lightning hit the tree outside my window! It was a completely rational fear!”
“Of course, some fears require a more… hands-on approach now,” Wei added with faux innocence, examining his nails like he hadn’t just dropped a nuclear bomb of innuendo. “Right, Jaxson?”
The car swerved slightly, nearly clipping a mailbox. Great. Now we were going to die in a car crash because Wei couldn’t keep his mouth shut. What a fitting end to my humiliation saga.
“Careful with those hands on the wheel, big brother,” Wei smirked, because apparently he hadn’t pushed enough buttons yet. “Though they seem pretty steady when it counts. Some things are better handled in private, wouldn’t you agree, Little Fox?”
I slid down in my seat, wishing the leather would swallow me whole. Maybe I could just melt into a puddle of embarrassment and evaporate. Become one with the car upholstery. Start a new life as a seat cushion. It had to be better than this.
“Wei,” Jaxson warned, his voice dangerously low, a tone I’d only heard him use when Colt had accidentally broken Mom’s favorite vase playing indoor baseball. There was something almost inhuman in that growl, a vibration that seemed to resonate in my chest despite its softness.
“What? Just making conversation,” Wei said, the picture of innocence if innocence had a PhD in psychological torture. “It’s a long drive. Might as well entertain ourselves.”
I watched Jaxson’s jaw clench in the mirror, the muscle ticking along his cheekbone. The temperature in the car seemed to rise about ten degrees. Either the heater was broken or my face was generating enough heat to warm a small village.
“Oh look,” Wei said brightly as we hit another bump, sending me bouncing in my seat, “more vibrations.”
“For God’s sake, Wei,” Jaxson growled, but there was a hint of panic in his voice that made me wonder if he was as affected by all this as I was.
I sat there stiff as a board, trying not to breathe too loudly or exist too noticeably, silently plotting Wei’s demise.
Maybe I could convince Nico to put anchovies in his protein shake.
Or better yet, replace all his hair products with pink hair dye.
Or swap his precious coffee beans for decaf. That would teach him.
“Almost there,” Wei announced cheerfully, like we were on a fun family trip and not a mobile torture chamber. “Unless you two need a moment to… work something out?”
Just kill me now, I thought. Or better yet, kill Wei. Slowly. With his own fancy coffee grinder.
I shot him my best death glare, which only made his grin wider. The supermarket loomed ahead like the gates of hell, and I tried to ignore how Jaxson’s fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel. Just grocery shopping, I reminded myself. How bad could it be?
The universe, as always, was about to show me exactly how bad.
The supermarket loomed before us like some kind of relationship battlefield, with produce as landmines and other shoppers as unwitting spectators to our drama. Wei, the traitor, immediately sentenced me to cart duty.
“You push,” he said, handing me the cart like he was bestowing a great honor instead of a prison sentence. “I’ll direct. Jaxson will fetch.”
Perfect. Now I’m basically chained to this thing while Jaxson picks out vegetables and looks unfairly attractive doing it. “Oh, look at me, I’m Jaxson Sinclair and I can make selecting a bell pepper look like a Calvin Klein photoshoot.”
I tried to maintain a safe distance, pushing the cart like it was a protective barrier between us, a metal shield against inappropriate feelings.
But Jaxson, being Jaxson, had other ideas.
He caught up to me in the produce section, and suddenly his hand was on mine on the cart handle, his chest practically pressed against my arm, his scent wrapping around me like an invisible embrace.
The moment his skin touched mine, that strange warmth I’d felt last night spread from the contact point up my arm and through my chest. It wasn’t just body heat—it was something more intense, like his touch activated something beneath my skin that had been dormant until now.
Breathing. Breathing is important. Remember how to do that, Lan. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Don’t hyperventilate in the middle of the produce section. People will stare.
“We’ll need some ingredients for burgers,” he said, his breath warm against my hair, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the refrigerated section we were standing in.
I licked my lips nervously, then wanted to kick myself for such an obvious tell. I might as well have a neon sign above my head flashing “NERVOUS WRECK.” “Are we having burgers for the party?” Small talk. Normal. Totally normal. Just two stepbrothers discussing meat products. Nothing to see here.
He smiled down at me, and my heart did that stupid flutter thing it always did, like it was trying to escape my chest and throw itself at his feet. “Mm-hmm. Burgers. Meat skewers. All the good stuff.”
“You’re going all out, aren’t you?” Stop noticing how good he smells. Stop noticing how his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. Stop noticing everything about him that makes you want to climb him like a tree.
“Since we don’t do a lot of parties. And this one is important for Colt. We missed out on doing one for your birthday, too.”
“I don’t want one, anyway. I’m too old for that.” I’m definitely old enough for other things though— No. Bad brain. Back in your cage.
He ruffled my hair, his fingers lingering just a fraction too long, and I nearly combusted on the spot.
That warmth spread from his touch again, more intense this time, like sunshine soaking into my skin.
If spontaneous human combustion was real, I’d be a pile of ash in aisle three.
“You’re never too old for a birthday party. ”
Then he was off selecting vegetables, moving through the produce section with the confidence of someone who actually knew what kale was for, and I was left to watch him like some kind of lovesick stalker.
Every woman in the produce section seemed to be having the same problem.
They all did double takes as he passed, eyes lingering on his broad shoulders and perfect jawline, and I felt that familiar jealous knot in my stomach, hot and tight.
Great. I’m jealous of random women in a supermarket. I’ve officially hit rock bottom. Next stop: jealousy toward mannequins wearing his brand of cologne.
I tried to escape with the cart, aiming for the cereal aisle where there were fewer opportunities for accidental touching, but of course, he noticed. Eagle-eyed Jaxson, always aware of where I was. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere,” I stammered, caught like a deer in very attractive headlights. “Just… exploring the wonderful world of grocery store layout design. Did you know they put the most expensive items at eye level? Fascinating stuff.”