Chapter 35
Jase
There’s something I wanted to tell you the whole time: I missed you.
—Jase
It’s the wrong place and definitely the wrong time for this.
We’re in the theater, and we’re not alone.
But fuck. Nothing has ever felt more right than kneeling in front of Zoe, between her legs, inhaling the scent of her skin and hearing her breathing accelerate, because she’s not just allowing this; she wants it.
In the meantime, my pants have gotten so tight that it hurts, but this isn’t about me. It’s about her. Fuck. It was always about her.
I caress the inside of her thigh with my lips, and I have to smile as her fingers twist in my hair and tug demandingly. I look up without taking my mouth off her. Her head is tilted back, exposing her long, slender neck. Her copper hair stands out against her pale skin.
She’s so incredibly beautiful.
Kiss by kiss, I feel my way along her leg, closer and closer. Her grip on my hair gets stronger. She wants to pull me in, but I’m not going to let her rush me.
Not now. Not here.
She slides restlessly back and forth on the seat. She tries to push her pelvis forward, but I put my hands on her hips and keep her exactly where I want her.
My cock twitches, but I ignore the pressure building up inside.
“Jase.” Her whisper is a soft, breathless plea for more, for me, and all the blood above my waistline is rapidly making its way downward.
Fuck, I think I’m dying.
I push her dress up around her hips, and then I lower my mouth to the center of her desire.
When I taste her, I really think I die a little.
She whimpers, and this time I can’t hold her back as she pushes against me.
My eyelids flutter shut, and I just feel, concentrating fully on her.
Every twitch of her hips, every tug on my hair.
I focus on her ever-accelerating breath, the soft gasps, making me almost come in my pants as I make circles with my tongue.
She raises her hips, wraps both legs around my shoulders, and pulls me even closer. Damn, why is it so hot in here?
As I slide two fingers inside her, Zoe suppresses a moan, and her muscles tighten around me. She’s so wet, and now I’m really about to die. I move my fingers slowly, but that’s not what she wants. Her hips leap forward, so fast that I have to be careful she doesn’t fall off the seat.
“More, Jase, please . . .” As she whispers my name, her voice soft and trembling, I lose control. I push deeper inside her while using my tongue, and the taste of her is certainly going to be the end of me.
Her orgasm builds up like a wave. I can feel it, before it breaks in a series of powerful contractions.
Her muscles pulse; everything throbs. She arches her back, her hips slide even farther forward, and she stifles a scream by biting her lip.
Fuck, she really is killing me. I want to hear her, every single sound that she makes, unrestrained and uncontrolled.
I want everything from her, and I want to give her everything she wants from me.
* * *
I slept in Zoe’s room that night too, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And every other night this week. I should probably be worried about how easy everything suddenly is. How normal it seems.
And how safe I feel.
But I’m not worried. I’m also not worried about the fact that it can’t be this simple. Not after all the shit we’ve already been through.
But I should have guessed it was too good to last.
The universe takes revenge for my carelessness on Friday, during the pas de deux class.
“Today we’ll be working on our lifts. The last few times, I wasn’t convinced of what I saw,” Francesca says, giving the pianist a sign and sending us to our positions.
I wait for Zoe to give me her hand before I take her by the waist. My body reacts to her closeness with an unmistakable tingle as I start to think about how she moved under my hands in the theater. Her moan in my ear, her taste in my mouth.
“You’re thinking dirty,” Zoe whispers so quietly that no one can hear but me. In the mirror, I see a wide grin on her face.
I lean forward a little until my cheek is touching hers. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about?”
Her lips open, and I want to kiss her, right now, but we don’t have a chance to continue our conversation, or kiss. Francesca stops in front of us and raises her eyebrows disapprovingly.
“Concentrate,” she orders.
Zoe and I nod at the same moment, but she’s smiling.
“Later,” I whisper to her as soon as Francesca has moved on to the next couple.
We do one lift after another, and it’s so easy to dance with Zoe now. We react to each other; we understand each other intuitively.
Until I turn around. Zoe is sitting on my shoulder. I see a tall, familiar figure watching us from the hallway. I lose my balance, and Zoe lets out a startled cry as she slips off my shoulder. Somehow, I manage to catch her. It’s pure instinct; I can’t let her fall.
Francesca shouts something, but her words don’t reach me. All I can hear is the sound of blood pounding in my ears. My heart is racing, and my whole body tenses. I look into Zoe’s surprised eyes, yet all my attention is focused on the man watching me, his face expressionless.
Dad.
What the hell is he doing here?
“Jase, are you okay?” Zoe frees herself from my grip and gives me a worried look, even though I’m supposed to be the one asking. After all, I almost let her fall.
“Yes,” I lie. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head and smiles at me reassuringly. “It’s okay, I was just shocked.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s okay,” she says again, nodding toward the glass wall. She’s already noticed him. Of course she has. Her smile fades and her brow creases, as though she’s wondering the same thing I am.
Francesca comes over to us to make sure neither of us is hurt and then has us start from the beginning. But I can’t concentrate anymore, no matter how hard I try.
I can’t ignore my father. He’s here, watching me, judging me, evaluating me. He probably feels justified now that I don’t belong here. And I’m not even in a position to prove him wrong.
When Francesca finally ends the lesson, I’m both relieved the torment is over for now and dreading what comes next. Dad is waiting for me, and I don’t believe for one second that I can just ignore him.
I purposely take my time packing my things and putting on my sweatshirt, but I can’t delay the inevitable much longer.
Zoe and Skye are the only ones who are still here when I look up. Everyone else has gone to lunch. Both girls give me worried looks. It’s the first time I notice something they have in common.
I leave the studio alone, even though everything inside me wants to leave with Zoe and just ignore Dad. But that won’t work. I know that from experience.
“What do you want?” I ask him without a greeting, because he doesn’t deserve one. He hasn’t been in touch with me for weeks, not since our conversation in Mom’s office. Now he just shows up here like it’s normal.
“We have to talk.”
“We don’t.” I push my way past him and walk down the corridor. I have to get out of here. He follows me outside, and the cold air hits me like a slap in the face.
“Jase! Listen to me.” Dad easily keeps pace with my long strides. I stop in the middle of campus, because I don’t want him to follow me into the dorm, and I definitely don’t want him in my room.
“Why should I? Do you want to take something else away from me? I don’t have anything left, Dad.”
“I’m not here to take anything away.” He sounds annoyed, as though I’m acting like a defiant child.
“Then what do you want?” Anger flares up inside me, burning through my body like hot embers.
“This is about your mother,” he replies reluctantly. “Her birthday party is tomorrow, and it’s important that you be there.”
His words leave me speechless for a moment. But then I laugh in disbelief. “Oh, you mean the party that I wasn’t invited to?”
“You’re our son. Of course you’re invited.”
I shake my head uncomprehendingly. Mom’s birthday was two weeks ago. I went to my parents’ place, and I have no idea why. It was stupid. But it was Mom’s birthday, and some idiotic part of me just couldn’t ignore that.
I was still sitting in the Uber when they walked out of the house. Mom, Dad, Lia, and her boyfriend. They didn’t even notice me as they got in their car and drove away. Without me.
“I find that difficult to believe.”
Dad rubs his forehead. His shoulders are tense. He’s just about to lose his cool. “If our family still means something to you, you’ll come to the party tomorrow.”
My chin juts out in opposition. “And if I don’t? What then?”
“Jesus. I don’t want to hurt you. When are you going to figure that out?”
Never. Because you never accept me or my decisions about my own life.
“Do it for your mother. She’s done a lot for you. Don’t disappoint her,” he says. And then he leaves. Just like that, without another word.
I stare after him. I’m boiling inside. Don’t disappoint her. As if I don’t do that every single day of my life anyway. I hate myself for it, but I know that tomorrow I’ll go to the fucking party. Her fiftieth. Tomorrow . . .
My heart skips a beat. Tomorrow.
My stomach turns. For a moment, I can’t breathe. I’m dizzy. I stagger.
The pain is there again so suddenly, as though it never faded. As though I never learned to deal with it. It hits me full force, driving me to my knees, mixing fury and hatred in an uncontrollable hurricane inside. My eyes burn, and I want to scream, but the sound gets caught in my throat.
Mom’s birthday was over two weeks ago.
Seventeen days after her birthday a few years ago, Sam died.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will have been dead for five years.
And she’s celebrating her fucking birthday.