Chapter 42 – Jaxon
FORTY-TWO
JAXON
My shift at the kissing booth.
I do a double take. I cleaned my ears this morning, right?
Jordan struts away, glancing over her shoulder back at me. “If you want that kiss, come see me.”
YOU’RE PUCKING AWESOME
Me
Does anyone know the kissing booth fundraising goal?
Chase
Whatever it is will be blown out of the water after Jordan’s shift
Big Carmichael
….
Do I have to remind you knuckleheads that’s my sister?
Becky
$10k
Dawson
Thought it was $15k
Me
what have they raised?????
Chase
confirmed $10k. They’ve raised 5 as of twenty minutes ago
you know those girls will kiss you for free jaxy
I dial Beck. His voice is gruff when he picks up.
“Can I borrow five-thousand dollars?”
He cough-snorts. “Do you think I’m made of money?”
“Your trust fund is worth more money than I’ll ever see in my lifetime.” I may have accidentally allowed my eyes to wander over his shoulder when he was lounging on the couch doing some banking thing-y on his computer. The number of zeros would have any normal human on the verge of throwing up.
We all know Beck grew up with money, like flying private and going to specialized hockey academies, despite never talking or gloating about it. He spends what’s necessary, mostly on his sister and tattoos, but refuses to touch the rest.
I’d never ask him for money, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Sure, I could pull it from my savings, but I’m close to having enough for Dad’s implants.
“Stop selling yourself short,” he commands before his voice softens. “I’ll give it to you if you answer one question for me.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you like Jordan?”
“Duh. She’s Cooper’s little sister and our teammate; we all like her.”
“Jax…”
My mind rewinds to earlier this evening, bumping into Mrs. Carmichael at the carnival entrance, a welcome banner rippling in the breeze. She asked for help unloading boxes.
“Do you like my daughter?” she asks, opening the trunk to her sporty SUV.
“Um.” I pause. Hesitation is like a noose around my neck. Flashbacks to Jordan at The Mean Bean last weekend replay. She didn’t want me in public. She doesn’t want people to know about us. Maybe she doesn’t want me like I want her.
“It’s okay if you do. Perfectly delightful if you want my opinion.” Mrs. Carmichael points to boxes. We work in tandem to pull them out and stack them on a rolling dolly. “If you wanted another opinion, I’d tell you that I think it’s more than a little crush.”
I’m riddled with speechlessness.
“I saw the way you looked at her. It’s the same way I used to catch Ryn looking at me before he asked me out.”
“He still looks at you that way,” I interject.
“I know,” she replies in a prideful tone.
“Having kids changes you. Dreams aren’t only for you, but for them.
I have things I want for all three of my kids, but for my daughters—for Jordan, I dream that they find someone who looks and loves them like their father loves me.
I dream for them to be loved the way I’ve been loved, and the way I know they love.
“Jordan’s a great girl.” Trust me, I know, I want to say. “She’s quiet, stubborn and determined to a fault.” We share a laugh. “But she’s loyal and loves quietly. She’ll never admit it, but the girl has the biggest heart.”
“She does,” I agree, then confess, “it’s complicated.”
“Relationships can be. I’m her mother, and I’ll be the first to admit she can be complicated.
The walls she’s built up after losing Katie and struggling to make friends…
but I think it’s incredibly nice to have someone who’s aware of your sensitivity and handles your feelings gently and thoughtfully.
Someone you are able to show vulnerability to yourself with. ”
Jordan is that person for me.
“One more piece of advice?” She closes the trunk and locks her car.
“Please.”
“Don’t put Celine Dion on a playlist with Eminem. I knew that was your music when I stopped by the house last weekend.”
I chuckle. “I won’t ever again.”
“Good. Now, back to my daughter. If you like her—love her even”—she eyes me carefully as if to gauge my reaction.
I run my tongue along my bottom teeth—“then to hell with her brother, what people might think, or whatever barrier you two are putting in the way.
You should tell her. Say what you need to say, then say a little more.
Say too much. Show too much. Love too much.
“Help me roll these to the volunteer booth and then go find her. She loves the zero-gravity ride and the Ferris wheel.”
“Yes,” I come clean to Beck, snapping out of my head.
“One more question.” I hear a girly giggle in the background. “Madeline wants to know if you’ll pick her up from school next week and give her skating lessons. Apparently, mine aren’t as good as yours.”
“Anything for my second favorite girl in the world.”
“I’ll send you the money.”
“Thanks, Becky.”
“Anything for your first favorite girl in the world.” Our call disconnects, and seconds later, a notification pops up on my phone.
Jordan sits down, pulling a long braid over one shoulder as a line starts to form. I push off the metal trash can, having long strides in my favor as I beat everyone to first in line. When Jordan notices, she rolls her eyes.
A dollar for one kiss.
Or five thousand to reach their goal.
I scan the code, paying the booth tenant. Their mouth drops. “Seriously? That’ll—”
“Reach the goal?” I flick my brows up. “I know.”
“Thank you,” they repeat over and over.
The carnival benefits a rotating charity every year. Portions of sales from ride tickets, games, and food—everything except the alley, stuffed with Lakeland student organizations go toward the charity.
Surprise, surprise, the kissing booth is the student-athlete organization’s booth every year.
The money raised is used for our holiday gala or…
I don’t actually know, but this year it’s going to the women’s team that were cut.
Captains and representatives from the men’s and women’s teams met with the coaches, going over the AD’s head, to approve the reallocation.
And props to them. This is the longest I’ve ever seen the line.
Maybe we are the hottest on campus.
“Do me a favor?”
“Sure.” They type something into the tablet in front of them.
“Page or text or whatever who has the next shift and let them know something came up. Her turn is over after me.”
“Um, yeah, alright. Okay.”
“Thanks. Do I head up now?”
They gesture me by them, and I walk up the three metal stairs to the platform that the booth is situated on. Sliding out the metal chair, I turn it around before plopping down into it.
“Hi, Blue.”
“Did you spend five-thousand dollars to stop everyone from kissing me?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“We aren’t dating, Greene,” Jordan reminds me.
“Maybe we should be.”
“Is this you asking me out?”
“It is.”
“Then say the words.”
“Jordan Carmichael, will you do me the highest honor and bestow me with the gift of being my girlfriend?”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Worse things to be ridiculous over. Is that a yes?”
“Kiss her already! There’s a line here, asshole,” someone yells from behind us.
“This is a family-friendly carnival.” Jordan raises her hand, flipping them the bird. “Yes.”
Taking the suggestion from the crowd, I kiss my girlfriend. Then kiss her some more because I can.
“What the fuck?” The question belongs to the last person I expected to be here. Luka grabs at my collar, dragging me away from Jordan. “Why are you kissing my girlfriend?”
I don’t get a chance to respond before he punches me in the face. The taste of iron coats my tongue, and I can feel the split in my lips. Luka punches me again.
Jordan shoots up. “Luka!”
“What are you doing kissing him? We’re—”
She cuts him off, sternly. “I’m not your girlfriend.”
“If you’d stop ignoring my calls and texts, you would be. I’ve been trying to apologize.”
“For what?” She steps between us, shoving Luka backward.
“You know what, babe.” He reaches out for her, but she swats away his hands. “We can go talk. Your place or somewhere quiet. What’s the cafe you like?”
“There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
A crowd is forming. Some chant “fight, fight, fight” while others pull out their phones. Dawson and Jake worm their way to the front. Cooper and Sutton rush in from one side. She stays back with Elliot as he jumps up on the short stage. Chase is trying to hold back Luka’s roommates.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Luka?” Cooper barks out.
“What you should’ve been doing. Protecting your sister.” Luka waves a hand in my direction. Jordan protectively in front of me, we form an obtuse triangle. “She was making out with him.”
Cooper side-eyes me, and if he were a cartoon character, there would be steam billowing out of his nose. A big brother lecture is in my future. “Doesn’t explain why you’re here in Bensen.”
“To talk to Jordan.”
“Okay, talk,” Cooper says at the same time Jordan, again, says, “There’s nothing for us to talk about.”
“Never mind.” Cooper steps in front of Jordan. “She says there’s nothing to talk about? Then there’s no reason for you to be here.”
Luka huffs, shaking his head with a degree of entitlement that’s sickening. What claim does he believe he has over her?
I lick at the split in my lip, pain radiating out from it.
“Luka, leave.” Jordan steps around her brother.
“One minute and I’ll get out of here.”
She glances at Cooper. He shrugs. Then she turns to me. I want to tell her no, don’t go, but I just shrug. I don’t trust Luka or his manipulative ways, but I trust Jordan.
“Fine.”
They step off the stage, walking between booths. I try to read his lips, but my view is blocked, Cooper swinging around to face me.
“Why were you kissing my sister?” Saved by Mrs. Carmichael, she requests his presence. “I expect an answer later. Keep an eye on them.”
A couple of minutes later, Jordan leans against the side of a corn dog stand next to me. “So…Luka’s your brother?”
“Stepbrother.”
Chase brings me a new ice pack wrapped in a washcloth. I press it against the right side of my jaw. I hiss out a breath; even the faintest of pressure stings.
Luka got me good.
Irritated and angry red skin is fading into a bruise. Lip split and swelling. And a tenderness that makes it hard to swallow.
I’m lucky it’s not fractured, dislocated, or any teeth broke. His first punch was significant, but the second felt packed with years of pent-up agitation. An intensity that comes from more than finding me kissing Jordan.
Jordan. God, her face as I walked away. Imprinted into my mind, it replays. The way her mouth wobbled, the sound of my name as a plea on her lips, eyes swirling with hurt.
I…I needed to get away. Needed space. Needed to process the boulder that’d been dropped on my chest, the suffocation of air from lungs.
I didn’t know what to feel, and I still don’t.
Of course, Luka is her ex. Of fucking course.
Am I a joke to the universe? Did I take my role as class clown too seriously?
Cooper paces back and forth in front of the television. He’s already interrogated me on the drive home. Sutton had to drive because he couldn’t stop glowering at me through the rearview mirror. Since we’ve been home, he’s asked twelve times why I kissed Jordan, not accepting my gargled answers.
“Let me get this straight. You were in line for the kissing booth, waiting for your turn to kiss the tennis player who was currently on shift. But a shift change happened, Jordan sat down. You’d already paid, so you thought, why not?”
I’m not really listening, mind racing in every which direction.
“Earth to Jaxon. Is that what happened?” Cooper stands in front of me, taps my foot with his.
“I’ve already told you, yes.” I hate lying to him.
“Why would you want to kiss her?”
“Cooper, don’t be an ass,” Sutton calls him out for his rude tone.
I want to kiss her for the same reason I want her to be mine. Jordan’s everything. My favorite song. The first bite of cereal. Seeing that you cut a straight line when you crop your shirts. None of it is better than her.
“How much time do you have?”
“Be serious, Jax.”
“I am.” If there’s anything—anyone I’m serious about, it’s Jordan. And that’s why the fissure in my heart hurts more than my face. “I have a long list of reasons.”
“But she’s my sister.”
“It was a charity kissing booth,” Beck speaks up from his position against the entryway to the kitchen.
He’s quickly caught on, Chase filling in the gaps.
“Get over it, Cooper. Would you have gone big brother on the rest of the line?” His eyes fall into slits as he thinks over his answer. “Get the fuck over it.”
Cooper tips his head back, groaning. “I just…” He huffs. “I guess you’re right.”
“It was just a kiss,” I add, and that fissure grows. I hate lying to Cooper. Hate downplaying what Jordan and I are.
“Then it’ll never happen again?” He stares through me into my soul. Takes a step forward and extends his pinky.
“Promise.”
Beck shakes his head, disapproving before he heads out. Shortly after, the rest of my roommates are right behind him. Sutton crashing their Saturday night plans with a reminder that we all agreed to help tear down the festival.
The door closes, and I’m left to the quiet. Too bad my mind is loud.