Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
THEN | JAX
I'm fucking sick of not having my own wheels—I don't even need something fast, I'd take a slow piece of shit at this point.
Anything but Ronny's black town car gliding through the City like I'm on my way to some fundraiser instead of a senior party under a bridge.
Mom says it's too dangerous. Dad says he'll think about it when I start college. Which means never.
I had Ronny drop me four blocks out. He gets it, and I’m grateful for the discretion. No reason to be seen stepping out of a car like a kid who still needs help with his seatbelt. I walk the rest of the way, hands shoved in my pockets, hood up.
The noise from this shitshow carries for miles. I turn the corner and it’s just engines and garbage music pounding out of a speaker. Exactly how Tar City celebrates anything.
This was supposed to be seniors only, but of course, everyone’s here. Bruce, that guy from my history class, said it was just a “small gathering” before The Formal. A real party, not the supervised nightmare where they check your pockets.
Bikes are parked all over the damn place. Headlights are cutting across everyone’s faces. Some dipshit’s revving his engine way too hard.
I scan the crowd without even thinking, my eyes searching for her. Since she came for dinner, we’ve barely spoken. She’s avoiding me, I know it. I’m caught between wanting to respect her boundaries and the overwhelming urge to fill her every thought until there’s no space left for anything but me.
She’s leaving, that’s her excuse. I’ve thought about what to do about it. I could easily follow her, get a shitty job near the Academy, see her after her classes. I would. In a fucking heartbeat. If I knew she wanted me to.
“Hey you!” Someone calls out, and I turn.
It wasn’t for me. I look anyway. A couple of guys from the south side are standing near a busted pickup.
Wouldn’t be surprised if half the losers here are jacked up on Ash.
Someone across from them snaps, “Hands off, you fucking moron. That’s Dice’s bike. You touch it, he’ll break your hands.”
Someone slams into me hard enough to make me stumble. “Shit, man, you came!” Dillan’s grinning, clapping me on the shoulder like he’s trying to dislocate it. “Did you make Ronny drop you off like a fucking nanny, or did you finally run away from home?” He waggles his eyebrows.
“Very funny,” I say, my eyes still scanning the crowd. “Seen Sisk?”
“Sisk? Of course, it’s all Sisk now,” he says, his grin fading a little. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, man. What the fuck… gonna ditch your best friend for a piece of pussy?”
Dillan is not my best friend. He’s the one who gave himself the title.
I know he means well, but… shit. What the fuck is wrong with me?
He’s a good guy, just… his family is normal.
He’s normal. Hanging out with the rich kid is a fun novelty for him, a way to get free beer and a story to tell, but we have absolutely zero in common.
I scan again and finally spot Becca by the stacked speakers, two other girls with her. “Be right back, man,” I say, already turning away from him.
“Whoa, leaving me already?” he calls after me, grabbing my arm. “For real? You see me for the first time in a month and you’re gonna bail to go chase some skirt? What happened to us, man?”
I pull my arm free. “I’ll catch you later, Dillan.”
I walk toward Becca and Whistle. Of course he’s here.
He’s leaning against the railing with his usual look, the one that says he thinks everyone else is here for him.
Becca’s talking fast, trying too hard. One of the other girls keeps glancing at his waist like she’s trying not to get caught looking.
I step up beside them. “Hey,” I say to Becca. “You seen Sisk?”
Becca’s eyes flick to me, then past me, then back. “She was just—”
A loud whistle cuts in before she can finish. “Lose something?”
I glance at him. He grins wider, enjoying this already.
“Don’t tell me it’s your little ballerina doll?
” he adds, his voice dripping with jealousy.
“Should’ve seen her a minute ago. Spilled something all down her shirt.
Those tits, man… like they were painted on.
Real shame to let a view like that go to waste. ”
“Move.” I shoulder past the first girl, then the second, not waiting for them to react.
Whistle doesn’t even shift, he hooks his thumbs casually at his waistband, his worn jacket riding back just enough to show the matte black grip tucked against his hip. A clear message.
One of the other girls swallows hard, her eyes glued to the gun. Whistle’s watching my face, waiting for a reaction. I don’t give him one. His smile wavers and I see he’s annoyed. He wanted a fight, or fear. He got neither.
Becca points. “She went that way. Toward the old pump station.”
I don’t say thanks. I don’t even look at Whistle again. I just turn and walk away. He can have his little power trip.
I move fast, almost running, turning corners, slipping between the crowd in the direction Becca pointed until I hear them.
“Hey, hey,” the guy says gently. “Let me help. Come here.”
Sisk’s voice, muffled. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” he says. “Hold on.” His voice is careful now, like he’s talking someone through something fragile. “Let me try.”
I hear a grunt, and before I hear the rest of it, I run toward the sound, rounding a dumpster.
My protective instincts kick into overdrive, my mind already cataloging a dozen ways to hurt whoever has her upset.
I’m halfway to them when she sees me. Her head snaps up, she immediately crosses her arms over her chest, her naked chest, barely covered by a half-unzipped men’s jacket.
The movement is defensive, shielding herself. From me.
I don’t know who this guy thinks he is, but he steps in front of her and turns to me, annoyed. “St. Clair,” he says flatly. “Of course it’s you.” He doesn’t move, still blocking her from me. “Can I help you?”
Lou, I know him. He’s her friend, but that means less than nothing to me right now. Why the fuck is she letting him see her like this? Do whatever the fuck is happening here?
“Yeah,” I bite out, my gaze locked on Sisk over his shoulder. “You can get lost.”
He scoffs, not intimidated in the slightest. “Relax, Jax. She’s having a moment. So maybe you should just—”
The red haze of jealousy starts to creep in. Why him? Why is it okay for him to see her like this, but the second I look at her, she hides?
She exhales frustrated. “Jax, stop,” Sisk says, “It’s not what it looks like.”
I take another step forward.
“Turn around,” he tells me.
“The fuck I will.”
“Do it Jax,” she tells me, her voice leaving no room for argument.
I reluctantly do it, turning my back to them, my fists clenched at my sides. All I can think about is his hands on her, and it’s taking everything in me not to turn around and throw him against this dumpster.
“Okay, okay—hold on,” Lou says. “Let me try this way…” He sighs. “It’s really stuck,” he says after a moment of struggling.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask impatiently.
“The zipper is stuck,” Sisk tells me.
“I can help,” I say, spinning back around.
He immediately steps in front of her again. “Not happening.”
She struggles for another moment, Sisk letting out another frustrated huff. “Maybe Jax should help,” she says, her voice tight with defeat.
“We don’t have to go back out there if you don’t want to,” Lou tells her. “We can just sit. Or we can leave. Or we can steal cupcakes and disappear. Birthday privilege.”
“Thanks Lou… but… can you actually give us a minute?” she asks him.
He looks at her again. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
He studies my face like he’s trying to decide if I’m a threat, then finally steps back. “I’ll be nearby,” he tells her.
She nods, then crosses her arms around herself the second he’s gone.
“Whose bike jacket are you wearing, Sisk? And should I ask, why the hell aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
“First of all, I don’t owe you explanations,” she says.
“Second of all, it’s Lou’s jacket, and I spilled my drink all over my shirt.
Stupid of me to wear a white tank top to a place like this, I know.
And third, the zipper is stuck, so unless you’re here to actually help and not just act like a caveman, you can turn back around and leave me the hell alone. ”
I move closer, and try not to stare, but it’s a losing battle. The jacket hangs open, and I can see everything. The soft curve of her breasts, the shadow between them, the smooth line of her stomach. My mouth goes dry. It’s not just nakedness. It’s her. My dick immediately reacts.
I have to force myself to look at the zipper. A small, metal tooth is caught on a piece of thread. A simple problem. A fucking impossible problem when all I can think about is the fact that she’s standing right there, half-naked, and I’m the one who’s supposed to be the gentleman.
My fingers are clumsy, slightly sweaty as I reach for the fabric. I try to focus on the task at hand, but my knuckles brush against the soft skin of her stomach, and she flinches.
I finally manage to work the thread free, the zipper sliding up with a soft, metallic hiss. The jacket closes, and I just stand there, my eyes glued to her.
I look up, my eyes meeting hers. They’re dark, wide, and filled with a mixture of defiance and something else. Something that looks a lot like desire.
“There, bunny, all fixed.”
“Don’t call me that.”
A slow smirk spreads across my face. “What, you prefer sugarplum? Babygirl?”
She squares her shoulders, trying to look tough. “I’m not a pet.”
“No. You’re not. You’re a rabbit.” My eyes move to her lips, then back up.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you run. Every time it gets real. Every time I get too close.”
“Maybe I just don’t want to get caught.” Her chin lifts, a last stand of defiance. “Maybe I like being free.”
“Or maybe you’re afraid of liking what it feels like to be in my arms,” I move closer and gently tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Do you want to get back out there?” I ask.
“Yes. It’s my birthday and I am determined to have fun.”
“Happy 18th birthday,” I say, pulling a folded piece of paper from my pocket.
“What’s this?” She takes it.
“My gift.”
She unfolds it.
“A poem? You knew it was my birthday?”
I nod.
“Read it to me,” she says, handing it back.
“What?”
“I want you to read it.”
I take it back, my throat suddenly tight.
“Let it be the first and not the last
The time I say happy birthday to you.”
I pause and look at her.
“Let it be the first and not the last
The time I see you without guard.
Show me who you are,
Unafraid and free,
And I will show you that the world
Was made for you and me.”
Her lips part slightly, a soft exhale escaping. The defiance in her eyes is melting. It’s everything I wanted and it terrifies me.
I have to finish it. My voice dips to a near whisper.
“Let it be the first and not the last
The time I say happy birthday to you.
Let it be the first and not the last
The time my lips touch yours,
And I will show you that the world
Was made for you and me.”
I’ve just laid my soul bare, given her the one thing I have to offer that isn’t tainted by this city, or my name or the darkness inside me. Now all I can do is wait to see if she takes it, or if she runs.
Shit, it was too much. Too soft, too… I should have gotten her a gift.
“Can I have it back?” Her voice is soft now.
She reaches for the paper, but before I can give it back, I grab her wrist and pull her close.
“Jax…” she breathes, but it’s not a protest. It’s a surrender.
I close the remaining distance.
“How did I do?”
“I…”
“You can say it sucks, it’s not good, I know…”
She cuts me off. Her hands come up to cup my face, and she pulls me down to kiss me. I pour everything I can’t say into it—all the want, the frustration, the hope. She kisses me back, her hands moving from my face to my arm, her fingers digging in, pulling me even closer.
My other hand moves from her wrist to her back, pulling her against me until there’s no space left. I can feel her body against mine, her heart hammering through her jacket. Her lips open under mine, and I take it, deepening the kiss. She tastes like mint, and I’m down to keep this going all night.
The kiss turns hungry. I rock against her, and she grinds right back, a perfect rhythm that makes my dick desperate.
I break away from her mouth, dragging my teeth down her neck.
She gasps, her head falling back, giving me everything.
My hand slides down, grabbing her ass, pulling her in so tight she can feel exactly what she’s doing to me.
“Jax,” she breathes out, all shaky.
The whole world just fades out. The party, the city, tomorrow—none of it means shit. There’s just her, this, and the fact that I’m so far gone for her it’s not even funny.
“Whoa, shit. Sorry!”
We jerk apart. Lou’s standing there, hands up like he’s shielding his eyes from a train wreck. “Just checking if you’re okay, Sisk. Didn’t mean to… interrupt. I’ll just—”
“No,” Sisk says, her voice solid. She doesn’t let go of my arm. “It’s fine.”
Lou hesitates, looking between us. “Right. Fine. Well, in that case, are we gonna stand in the creepy dark all night, or are we going back to the party? ‘Cause I was promised a good time.”
She looks at me, a wicked glint in her eye. “It’s my birthday,” she says, her voice a low dare. “I want to do something stupid.”
I grin, letting my eyes linger on hers. “Anything for the birthday girl.”