Chapter Ten
Jackson
“ A ll alone? You losing your touch with the ladies, Jax?”
I drag my lips into a half-hearted smile but don't reply. Instead, I focus on the light ricocheting off the mirrors behind the bar, how they turn my amber drink into a gaudy gold. I take another sip, expecting to savour the richness and heat as it hits the back of my throat, but like most things now, the pleasure feels false. I never worry about talking to women. I rarely plan, rarely think about it all. But the idea of talking to Millie? It makes my throat feel like sandpaper.
After tonight, it will be over. This little infatuation. I'll see that she's no different from any other mortal girl, nothing like my Camille. And then I'll move on. And those green eyes, the ones that make me feel like I'm deep in a forest, sheltered and hidden from the rest of the world, will fade into the background of my life.
She'll just be another person I need to forget.
“Not at all. Let's just say tonight, I'm trying a different approach. She's going to come to me.” The slick arrogance in my voice makes me recoil. I grin at Blake, hoping he's too dazzled to notice that I'm lying through my teeth. I have no plan. I just need another drink to steady my nerves before I seek her out.
“That's an … interesting approach.”
“You know me, I'm nothing if not creative.”
Blake chuckles as he dries a glass with a 'Worship' embossed cloth. Like everything here, the devil is in the detail. Worship is not the most popular club in Bristol, with queues every night and influencers begging us for VIP tickets for nothing. I made my mark on every part of this club, from the colour of the floor tiles to the mirrored panels behind the bar. But maybe it was the same reason I was growing to hate it: How do you escape yourself in a place reflecting every inch of the worst of you?
I created a place that's all about the way light bounces off a mirror, distracting from the truth in the reflection. There's nothing real here, nothing behind the spectacle. It's the same as every other bar or pub or club I'd built. The cracks always find their way to the surface, eventually. No amount of gilded lies hides an ugly truth.
“Well, I think your approach works,” Blake smirks, and I twist in my chair, blinking in surprise as I follow his gaze to the opposite side of the room. Glittering from the light of the chandelier, Millie is stumbling around the balcony towards me, her eyes fixed nervously on me.
I smile. I can't help myself. She's tugging down her short dress, and my eyes glance down past the sparkly fabric to the soft skin of her thighs. Her makeup is slightly smudged, and her eyes are a little hazy from too much drink; her cheeks are flushed, and there's a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. She's a mess.
She's also the most beautiful girl in Worship.
She approaches the stool next to me, those full lips curling seductively, but her eyes look terrified. Blake watches her with a raised eyebrow and a slight quirk on his lips, even as he pretends to focus on putting away the dry glass. As she tries to raise herself on the stool, her heel catches, and she stumbles forward. I catch her by the elbows before she falls altogether, lifting her gently so she's sitting fully on the stool. Her cheeks turn even redder, and she looks away, sighing in defeat.
Across the room, even over the booming music, I can hear the sour brunette laughing. When I shoot her a look, she arches her back a little and softens her mouth. Subtle she isn't, which is usually my type, but I feel a million miles away from that right now.
“Hi,” I say, and after a brief hesitation, she turns to me and smiles. Her whole face changes, like a light has come on from within. Girls smile at me all the time. I can draw smiles from a pretty girl like a conductor can draw a symphony from an orchestra. But there's something about her smile that makes me feel worthy—like I've earned it.
“Hi.” She exhales gently. “It's Jax, right? Your friend outside called you Jax?”
“Jackson … Jax,” I shrug. “And your friends called you Millie?” I'd let slip her name before, never intending to see her again. But now I don't want to move away, not when I can see the sadness in her eyes, how out of place she'd seemed with those girls. I swallow, remembering the eyes on me from above. Knowing that Thomas and Lucius were watching, waiting. Focus, Jackson. Remember what you're here to do.
“I was wondering how you knew my name.” Her eyes gaze at me curiously before looking down at her hands as they curl together nervously in her lap.
“I heard them say it.” Shrugging, I finish my drink. I lean closer, shooting her my whitest, breathtaking smile. She doesn't melt as easily as I was expecting her to. In fact, her eyes narrow slightly. I let my mouth fall, and her body softens. The more I watch this girl, the longer I stay in the present, the more her lingering resemblance to Camille melts away till I can barely see any connection between them at all.
“Drink?”
Blake raises an eyebrow at me as if surprised, maybe even a little curious. The girls I usually spend time with are nothing like this. Millie beams. Her full lips are painted scarlet, and I can't take my eyes off them. Her smile is soft and genuine. She's no longer playing the seductive games everyone else plays in a place like this.
You don't see many real smiles here.
“Yes, thank you. I'll have one of those, please?” She points to my glass, and Blake raises his eyebrow even higher. His lips part, but before he can say anything, I raise my hand.
“A glass of the vintage Macallan and a Cosmopolitan for me. Thanks, Blake.” He looks at me as if he'd misheard but then nods and walks away to make the drinks. Millie looks at me, slightly perplexed. I can see her wondering if she's made some kind of mistake.
“Having a good night?” There is a lot I want to ask her. How has she been since Eva died? Is she happy living with her godmother? Has she realised yet that the pain will never leave? Just get more transportable, a pain that shrinks in size but never stops weighing you down, even if it's small enough to fit into your pocket? And there’s a lot I want to tell her, but small talk is safest. Her face drops slightly, and I already know the answer.
“Well, yeah, I mean, this place is amazing, and the music and …” Her voice drifts off, and I laugh. She jumps with a start and then laughs along with me, her cheeks flushing again. “I'm having a terrible night. This is my first time at a club, and it's totally not what I was expecting.”
Blake puts the drinks down in front of us. He watches us curiously for a second before being pulled away to a group waiting to be served on the other side of the bar. Millie draws her glass of whisky towards her.
“And what were you expecting?”
She laughs, her delicate fingers running along the side of the glass, mesmerising me.
“I don't know, more dancing? More laughing? More fun? Less … standing around and … everyone is sort of, a little …”
“Fake?”
“Exactly. And I'm … I'm trying to work out if you're the fakest or most real person here.”
I choke, and I'm not even drinking anything. I cough and try to ignore Blake sniggering from across the bar. This girl isn't Camille, not even close. Camille came into my life when it was dark and growing darker, bringing her sweetness and gentle nature to me when I needed a glimmer of hope. This girl isn't soft. She's all jagged edges, and rather than repelled, I'm fascinated. Millie tilts her head, watching me and waiting for my reaction.
“Are you always so blunt?” My reaction disappoints her, and I hate that. Her body slumps a little, and she focuses again on staring at the amber liquid in her glass.
“I'm not great with games, especially ones where I don't know the rules. I came here tonight because I wanted to be part of something, but that's not worked out. So I'm pinning all my hopes on you to make it better.”
She's right; I am playing a game, and she knows it. I should leave; it's the right thing to do. Definitely what I'm supposed to do, what Jeanette would tell me to do. And I'm an excellent reaper, the best. I always follow the rules. But my ego welds me to the spot. I glance out of the corner of my eye to the glass window, where I know Thomas and Lucius are still watching.
“That's a lot of pressure. I'm not sure I'm worthy of your hopes. In fact … I know I'm not.”
She says nothing, just brings the glass to her lips, taking a deep sip. She coughs and splutters, grabbing her throat, heat seeping up towards her jaw. “That burns! How do you drink that?”
I cough, trying to stifle a laugh. I push the cocktail over to her. She chuckles and nods in understanding. She pushes my glass of whisky towards me with a shy smile. Taking a small drink from the cocktail, she nods appreciatively in my direction.
“And you? Why aren't you having a good night?” The question surprises me, and I almost choke on my drink. She smiles knowingly, her eyes rising from glancing at her drink.
Words form on my lips, the answers I’d give if anyone else were to ask that question, but I don’t say them. Instead, a heavy feeling of tiredness hits me as I watch the drink swirl about in the bottom of my glass, like time, it’s cyclical. It doesn’t pass through you in a line but spins around in a never-ending circle. Life moving, but never quite changing. Not for me, anyway.
“What gave me away?”
She dips her head, gazing at me intently. Her dark waves tumble around her shoulders, her red mouth puckered.
“You came in with a group of friends, but a few hours later, you're here alone. I lack experience, but I'm pretty sure that's not a good sign of a great night. And your eyes, they give you away.”
“My eyes, huh?”
“Don't take this the wrong way, but … you look a little … lost.
I feel like someone has punched me in the gut.
“I only say lost …” she continues, suddenly looking embarrassed. “Because I feel that way sometimes. In fact, I think I feel that way most of the time.” The words tumble out of her, the alcohol loosening her lips.
“And what do you do … when you feel lost?”
She laughs sadly and turns away, her eyes gazing down towards the busy dancefloor.
“I'm still working that out.” Her red lips break into a warm smile. I smile back. A gentle silence falls between us. “You still haven't told me. Why are you having a bad night?”
“I have the opposite problem to you,” I say, more into my glass than to her. “This isn't my first night out. In fact, this might be closer to my thousandth. And everything's the same, same music, same people. I'm not special. I'm as predictable as everyone else. You wanna know how many times I've sat at this bar? Drank this drink? Seriously? I'm asking because I've done it so often I have no idea.”
She laughs, taking another sip of her drink.
“And have girls like me bothering you?”
“You know you're not bothering me, Millie.”
She blushes, her eyes properly meeting my gaze for the first time. We look at each other for a moment as the meaning behind my words hangs between us.
“You know … we're being watched.” She twists in her seat and turns where the brunette is still watching us fiercely. She's trying to pretend she's not, gazing down at her phone but not really focusing.
“I think you may have an admirer. One who thinks you'd be much better off talking to her than wasting your time with me.”
“And …” I lean forward, my lips so close to her ear that I can feel the warmth of her skin. Feel the subtle vibration as a shiver moves through her. “Do I get a say in any of this?”
“Of course. It's your say I'm interested in.”
“I'm more interested in what you want. Have I passed your test, Millie? Am I real enough for you?”
She glances down at her hand and then back up at me, looking me over like she's searching for something. Chinks in my armour, cracks in my mask. I feel exposed, raw. I'm breathing faster, and my palms are a little sweaty. Her expression softens. Whatever she was looking for, she's found it. And I'm glad, but I shouldn't be. I can't let her get close. That's not what this was about. I wanted her out from under my skin, not to bury herself even deeper. Not to take root, not blossom into something beautiful. I can't bear to watch something wither and die again.
“Not yet. But … I've never been a quitter.”
“So explain it to me … why is she watching us?”
Millie swallows, fidgeting in her seat, looking uncomfortable.
“Honestly? She's hoping I'll make a fool of myself in front of you. And I'm not entirely sure she wasn't right.” Her cheeks flush, and it's adorable.
“You haven't, though you have successfully punctured any ego I may have had …”
“My apologies.” She giggles. “I didn't realise your ego was so fragile.”
“… But you definitely haven't made a fool of yourself. You're the most interesting person I've met in a long time.” She tucks a wild wave behind her ear as she bites on her bottom lip. I stare at her mouth once more, imagining how soft those lips would be to kiss. Imagine them doing other things, too … “Why do you care what she thinks?”
She glances around the club, thinking hard about my question.
“I'm not sure, really. I think I wanted one night to… I wanted a different life—Marnie's life—to be someone like her—just for a night.”
I nod, remembering her in the hospital. How tired she looked. How shattered, right down to the marrow of her bones. How many nights had she cared for Eva while wondering what other people her age were doing?
“And how does it fit?”
She leans forward slightly, her knees just brushing my thigh.
“You watch something from afar for so long, and then you find out it's not real? It's kinda heartbreaking but also liberating. I still don't know if I'm a party girl, but I know I belong on that dancefloor, not sitting in a booth taking selfies and pretending to laugh at bad jokes just because they came out of the mouth of a cute boy.”
“So, if it doesn't matter what they think …?”
She looks at me through thick charcoal lashes, the lights above catching in the sparks of gold in her emerald eyes.
“I guess not, but … that's not really the reason I came over here.” She looks at me shyly, her lips enticingly parted and only inches away.
“Jax?” Blake's deep voice slices through, and I can't hide my annoyance when I turn to him. His phone is pressed to his ear. “Sorry, mate. Lucius wants you up in the office. You gotta sec?” I clench my jaw, looking up at the window. Lucius is talking into his phone, his brow narrowed in worry. Thomas has a curious smirk etched onto his features. I sigh and turn back to Millie. Her expression is neutral, but I can see the disappointment in her eyes. I down the rest of my drink, and Blake hangs up the phone. He's watching me closely, curious to see what I'll do.
“I have to go. It was nice having a drink with you, Millie.”
“It was nice talking to you.” She opens her mouth but hesitates before saying her next words. “It's actually been the best part of my night.”
I chuckle casually, but my insides feel hot.
“That would be more of a compliment if you weren't having a miserable one.” She laughs, her cheeks heating again. She follows me as I get up off the stool. We stand facing each other for a moment, and I can see the dilemma behind her eyes. I wonder if she can see the same in mine.
Don't do it, Jax.
“Enjoy the rest of your night.”
She nods, the disappointment on her face no longer hidden.
I turn to leave, which I tell myself is the right thing to do. I take a few steps towards the staircase, feeling her eyes burn into me, seeing her shoulders drop slowly from the corner of my eye.
Screw it.
Walking back to her, I halve the distance between us in a few steps. She looks up at me, her lips parted in surprise. Then I put a hand on her waist, lowering my head towards hers. I'm about to ask, check if this is okay, but before I can utter a word, she presses her lips to mine. As our lips meet, I take in the softness of Millie's mouth, of her. I pull her closer. She gasps slightly but doesn't pull back or hesitate when I deepen the kiss, parting those soft lips with my tongue. In fact, her arms wrap around me tightly, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt.
The eyes of her friend burn into us.
When I finally pull away, I see the dazed look in her eyes, her swollen lips.
“I thought you had to go,” she says breathlessly.
I lean forward so my forehead is pressing lightly against hers.
“I couldn't leave without doing that.” I press my lips against her ear, feeling her shudder at my touch. Her hand moves to her lips.
“Goodnight, Millie.”
“Goodnight, Jackson.”