11. Jason
11
W ill my mind ever shut the fuck up?I keep worrying about shit that isn’t mine to worry about and I fucking hate it.
Julie stormed off the yacht last week, and dammit if it didn’t mess with my gut ever since. Far too many times, I debated sending her a text. Giving her a call. Just asking if she was fine. But I didn’t because the churning of my stomach whenever I think of her is answer enough. I can’t slip back into old patterns.
I have no clue what’s going on with her, but I know that girl better than she thinks, and she is anything but fine.
With my arms crossed in front of my chest, I scan the room where the marketing team of NVS is setting up everything for Ford’s first photoshoot. The lights are bright, probably highlighting every bit of my frown, but I haven’t been able to get rid of it.
I need something to distract me.
I glance to my side as Ford comes to stand beside me, as if I manifested him with my thoughts. Not what I had in mind, but okay.
“How’s your girlfriend?” Yup, definitely not what I was looking for.
I lift my gaze to the ceiling. “Mia is not my girlfriend.”
“Wasn’t talking about Mia.”
My sigh is loud enough to challenge a rhino.
“Shut up,” I all but grunt, facing forward. The last thing I wanna do is meet his cocky smirk.
Is there a day this guy can try not to piss me off?
“Not a fat fucking chance, Spencer.” He shakes his head with twinkling eyes, the green matching his Henley. “Did you talk to her? Call her to see if she got home safe? You did, didn't you?”
A rush of heat flushes my cheeks, and the death glare that follows is meant to shut him up, but it does fuck all. Because he’s too close to the truth for my liking.
“I did not.” I rub a hand over my stubble, emptying my lungs.
“Ah, but you wanted to. It’s smeared all over that glare.” His finger circles in front of my face.
Is he a fucking mind reader now? A little shiver of embarrassment runs up my spine, and I flatten my lips to keep a straight face. It’s what Ford does and he does it best. Poke and prod whenever he can. He’s like my annoying bonus brother and usually I can take it.
But the second he brings up Julie, I feel exposed and pushed into a corner. Half my body is filled with anger ready to detonate, while the other is showered in embarrassment and experiencing this misplaced protectiveness I can’t fucking get rid of.
I’ve tried for years, but that blonde brings out all these primal feelings I can’t control.
“Don’t you have to go and fitted for some clothes or something?”
He arches an eyebrow, the corner of his bad boy eyes crinkling with a hidden mirth. “I’m waiting for Julie to come help me.”
I study his happy face with fire in my eyes. I wonder if he’ll get as many endorsements if his head is not attached to his torso. With that smirk? He probably still would, so instead I take the more mature route.
“I will drop you,” I snap.
“No, you won’t.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Cash would kill you.”
“You and Cash can go fuck each other.” That’s another thing that is annoying me more than ten thousand mosquitos attacking my skin.
Ford and Jordan are fucking tag-teaming me.
My little brother pisses me off every chance he gets by bringing up Julie and sticking his nose into shit that isn’t his business.
“Stop acting like an asshole,” he says whenever I just grunt at the mention of her name.
Doesn’t he get that it’s not an option? Doesn’t he get that the alternative is something my heart can’t handle again? Doesn’t he get that I need to keep firm and clear lines, because the last time I didn’t, I found myself on a roller coaster my stomach couldn’t deal with?
Nope, I need to keep my distance and keep her in the compartment of rage I tucked her in a couple of months ago.
“Where is Julie anyway?” I flip my wrist and glance at my watch. “It’s fucking ten-thirty. Why did we have to be here at nine if she’s not even here?”
She’s been schooling me about professionalism and all that shit, but here she is, ninety minutes late to her client’s first photoshoot.
“Are you the time police?” Ford gives me a blank expression, a little bit of why the fuck do you care swirling in his eyes before he raises his brown eyebrows as if I’m proving his point.
“It’s unprofessional.”
He smirks. “You’re just looking for a reason to be pissed at her. So obvious.”
Perceptive son of a bitch.
“Are you five?” I reply because, clearly, I am.
He slams his palm onto my shoulder, then squeezes.
“No, I’m a big boy who actually dares to admit when he likes a girl.”
That’s easy because he likes everything with a vagina. The bar is pretty low, really.
“I don’t like her.” I inwardly roll my eyes at the lie.
“And I’m a virgin.” Ford’s laugh is full. “Maybe she just had other stuff to do.”
“More important than this?”
“Maybe she thinks I can handle it and that I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”
I pull a face, recalling our first meeting with Julie. Sure, she welcomed him, smooth-talked him a little, but he also made it clear she had her work cut out for her.
“Yeah,” I drawl sarcastically. “No.”
There’s no way she would bail and leave this up to her co-workers. Not for the first time. She’s too much of a perfectionist.
I hold back one of the interns strolling beside me, her beaming smile looking up at me as if her job requirement is to keep it on all day. “Excuse me, miss?”
She lifts her chin a little. “Ava. And you’re Jason Spencer and Ford Lawson.”
A blush creeps up her cheeks when she locks eyes with Ford, who throws out a wink in greeting.
I blow out an annoyed breath. “Where is Julie Bradford?”
“She called in sick,” the girl says before her expression changes to a bummed one, as if she’s truly missing her manager.
“Sick? Is she alright?” Worry trails up my spine, but I try to tamp it down with a frown.
“Wow, ten points for credibility,” Ford mumbles, and I throw my elbow into his ribs. “OUCH!”
Ignoring the hunched hockey player beside me, I direct the intern's troubled gaze back to mine with a snap of my fingers. “Is she alright?”
She nods, confusion etched around the irises of her light blue eyes while she observes Ford’s discomfort. “Is he ?”
“He’s fine. Focus . Where is Julie?”
“Yeah, she came down with the flu or something.”
“The flu, right.” Sounds like someone is playing hooky. I slide a warm smile in place. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Can you do me a favor? Can you text me her address? We’d love to send some flowers to wish her well.”
Ford snorts beside me, and I jerk my elbow in a threat before he takes a quick step to the side.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” The girl carefully volleys her gaze between the two of us, then sets her feet back in motion. “I will have that with you within five minutes, Mr. Spencer.”
“You are so full of shit.”
I rear my chin to the most annoying and, unfortunately, biggest client I have. Ford’s arms are crossed in front of his chest, a challenging look swirling in his gaze.
“What?” I bark.
“We’d like to send flowers? What, black roses? Maybe some dead wildflowers?”
His words actually hurt enough to tighten my chest. “I’m not that big of an asshole.”
“You could have fooled me after the way you’ve been acting toward her.”
“Jesus, you sound like Jordan.” Incredulity washes over me as I mirror his stance. “Were you not there the other day when I literally dragged her out of the arms of her date while she was having a panic attack?”
“I was.” He nods, not convinced. “And I also remember her storming off right after.”
“She was fine, okay?” I rub the back of my neck, holding his expression with a sincere look in mine.
He doesn’t know the kind of connection Julie and I have. I would have never let her go if I didn’t think she was okay. She was. The way her brown eyes spit fire at me showed me as much.
“Besides, why do you care?” I sigh, and when I bring my gaze back up, there’s something weird in his.
Something that’s soft, and…caring? What the fuck ?
Ford shrugs. “Because you do.”
“What does that mean?” I throw my hands up in frustration.
“It clearly means you have a deep history with this girl! Normally, I’m the only one who’s getting you all grumpy and pissed, but ever since she’s been in LA, you’ve been stomping around like fucking Shrek.”
“I’m not as fat as Shrek.”
“No, but you are as ugly,” he rebukes, and I flip him off. “Look, I mean it. I know I’m fucking around with you, because I’m loving the fact that I can get you all worked up over a girl, but Jason, seriously?”
“What?” The only reason I’m shutting up is because I can’t deal with a Ford that makes sense. It’s like an alternate universe.
“You’re all worked up over a girl . You don’t get worked up about anything, let alone a girl.” He gives me a dare-to-call-me-a-liar look and I fucking hate him. “Plus, the chemistry when the two of you are in a room is in-fucking-sane .”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that either you have fucked her or should fuck her because I get horny just looking at the two of you.”
My eyebrows knit together. “That’s fucking weird.”
No shame, he just smiles. “It’s true. And you should stop torturing yourself and give in to it. In fact, why don’t you?”
“It’s complicated.”
Ford’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and I can’t even blame him. I sound like Hunter. I can’t believe I used to tell my best friend to man the fuck up and tell Charlotte how he felt, and now I’m the one sounding like a Facebook status.
Ford gets called over to the other side of the studio, but he gives me one more glance. “I don’t know what the fuck happened between the two of you, but how about you just grab your balls and man the fuck up?”
He puts action to his words, pushing his palm between his legs, and I pull a face.
“You’re disgusting.” But he also has a point. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Where are you going?” he asks, walking backwards with his arms wide.
“None of your business.”
His smirk returns in full force, and this time I can’t bite back my own. “You’re gonna stalk her, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.” I laugh, though it’s laced with annoyance. “I’m just gonna check on her.”
“Yeah, like I said; stalker .” Ford points his finger at me. “You better be nice to her, because if you upset her again, Cash is gonna rip your head off.”
“Cash can go fuck himself. And so can you.” I turn on my heels.
“Okay! Bye, stalker!” His voice bellows behind me, testing my patience.
I’m equally annoyed with him as I am with myself, because I’m not enough in denial to not see the truth in his words. I’ve been out of it ever since that first meeting at NVS. It doesn’t help that Ford and Jordan keep bringing her up, but I can’t say that’s the only reason.
She wanders into my dreams like she belongs there, and when I’m awake, she’s burned into my brain. But not for the right reasons. It’s very different from a year ago when I’d call her just to catch up or we’d fly across the country and hang out.
Now, I’m in a constant battle between the memories I love and cherish and the memories that are like an open wound on my heart, squirming as salt is poured on them every time I lock eyes with her.
I push the button on my key fob and get in the car, before I glance at my phone to pull up the text with her address.
You know the world is fucked when Ford Lawson starts saying smart shit. I’m worked up about Julie because I do care, and as much as I want to stay mad at her, the worry that’s covering my shredded heart is growing bigger by the day.
The way she lost it at the yacht party is a version of Julie I’ve never seen before. Never has she lost control; her senses overruled by panic.
The sight of it clawed through my insides and set up shop, not willing to leave until I got to the bottom of it. And now she’s called in sick? My gut says something is going on with her, and I bet me acting like a raging asshole around her isn’t helping. Nor does it make her want to open up to me.
I put my ego back to bed and decide I’m going to show up at her door to see if she needs anything. To check if she’s okay.
So, when I walk up the creaky stairs of her building thirty minutes later with a bag of food, I actually have a pep in my step. Today, I’m coming in peace. I just want to make sure she’s alright and if she needs anything. It’s what I would do if we were still in North Carolina, so I can put my grumpiness aside for a day or two. You know, since she doesn’t have anyone else here.
I stop in front of her door, noticing paint chips coming off the green wood. This is where she lives? Couldn’t NVS get her something better?
I roll my shoulders, then fill my lungs before I relax my face and knock on the door.
“Just a minute!” There’s some audible scrambling inside, and I sense my mouth curling at the thought of her opening the door any second now.
What the hell, Jason?
But it’s true. The longer I stand here, the more I realize we have a lot of unfinished business that’s not going to disappear by pretending it’s not there.
It is. I have to work with her, and I don’t want to frown all the time.
The door is jammed open, and my attention is instantly drawn to the friendly smile on her pouty lips.
But it’s how her Bambi brown eyes widen, and her kind expression dissolves in front of my gaze that fucks with my mood. “Jason.”
I thought seeing her would make things better for me. That I would take care of her like old times, and that even though we have a lot of shit to work on, we can work on them in baby steps. But as I take her in from head to toe, I realize that’s nowhere near the truth.
There’re no bloodshot eyes, no runny nose, no pale skin.
Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun, her gorgeous curves hugged tight by snug yoga pants, and her torso buried in an oversized hoodie. She looks all cuddly and cute.
“Brought soup.” I hold up the white bag, then storm through her front door, never dropping my gaze from hers while I slip right back into asshole mode as if it’s my second nature.
With my back to her living room, I set the bag on the kitchen counter, not missing one moment of her outraged face.
“What-what are you doing here?” As the door closes behind her, I fold my arms in front of my chest.
I can’t believe I convinced myself she needed my help. “You’re not sick.”
Her shock wears off, and she mimics my stance, dropping her back against the old front door with a glare that’s meant to kill or make me leave. Neither is going to happen.
Too bad, baby.
“How do you know where I live?”
“Since when do you lie and cheat?” I ask, before her eyes grow lethal.