Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
THEN | JAX
“Iread it somewhere you’re supposed to pee after sex,” she blurts out against my chest.
“Oh, yeah? Anything in that box of yours that resembles a toilet?” I ask, still too floaty to stand.
“You could probably manage the water bottle,” she says, stretching. “I kind of need a real bathroom.”
I grin, still not fully back in my body. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if we snuck into your place?”
“Zero if everyone’s asleep. Nine if my dad’s up. Ten if Millie’s up.”
“Your sister that bad?”
“No, she’s the best. She just really, really likes to push my buttons.”
“So… kicked out or a UTI?” I tease.
She stands, naked in the soft moonlight, and I can’t not look.
My eyes trace the curve of her spine, the pale scar on her shoulder, the soft dip of her hip.
Possessive thoughts flash through my mind: I want to bite that.
I want to leave a mark right there so she remembers who touched her. I swallow.
“Let’s go,” she says, bending over to grab her panties, and I see it.
A single, pearly-white drip of my cum sliding down the inside of her thigh.
I know she didn’t have an orgasm, first times aren’t supposed to be all that good for girls, which means I won’t feel right until I get to make her come.
Until I can watch her face when I’m the one who makes her lose control like that.
It’s not a question anymore. It’s a fucking mission.
She starts pulling on her clothes, then realizes the zipper of the jacket is broken for good. She reaches for my shirt instead, slipping it over her head.
“You want me to go into your house shirtless?” I ask.
“Maybe the abs will smooth things over with Millie,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Yeah, but will they work on your dad?” I counter, grabbing my jeans. “Because I feel like he’s less likely to be impressed and more likely to get his shotgun.”
She snorts. “Please. We’re more of a knife family.”
We move fast through the stairwell and when we reach her floor, she pauses before the door and listens. Then slips the key in slowly.
Inside, a cramped kitchenette is squeezed into the corner with a small table and four chipped chairs. Everything is too close, too worn, and all at once I hate my house—the size of it, the emptiness.
I follow her in like I’m stepping onto sacred ground. On the worn green couch, a girl with wild curls is blowing on her nails, with a bottle of red polish open beside her. Her eyes go wide when she sees me.
“What the hell, Sisk?” she whisper-yells, standing up. “Are you crazy? You know how Dad is about guys in the house—”
“We just need the bathroom,” Sisk cuts in.
“I’m Jax,” I add, attempting to smile.
Millie crosses her arms. Her eyes flick from my face to my hands, to my bare chest, and back to Sisk.
“Go on,” Sisk says to me pointing to a door.
“I can wait,” I say, gesturing to Sisk. “Ladies first.”
She disappears into the hallway.
Millie eyes me like she’s reading my résumé and a criminal record at the same time.
“You’re lucky my dad was exhausted.”
Millie sits back onto the couch, her hand hovering over her wet nails to avoid smudging them. She’s watching me now—not with suspicion exactly, but like she’s trying to figure something out.
“So,” she says. “Jax, huh?”
“That’s me.”
“You don’t look like you’re from these parts.”
I raise a brow. “That a good thing?”
“For my sister? Probably not.”
I glance down the hallway, then back at her. “I’m not gonna hurt her.”
“You won’t even know you’ve done it until it’s too late.”
Before I can ease her worries, the bathroom door creaks open and Sisk steps back into view, her cheeks pink from washing up, hair pulled into a messy knot.
When it’s my turn, I duck into the bathroom, noticing how it’s barely big enough to turn around in. The mirror is so spotted I can barely see myself. I brace my hands on the counter and try to breathe. Her life is nothing like I expected, and I was expecting messy.
I piss fast, flush even faster. As I open the door, I hear a cough.
“Millie?” a man’s voice grumbles. “What the hell’s going on?”
Millie jumps up fast. “It’s me,” she says quickly. “Dropped a glass.”
He grunts. “Keep it down.”
He turns and sees me. He’s a big guy with a large mustache and eyes that look very much like Sisk’s.
They narrow to slits and I’m not sure if there’s anything I can say or do before he lunges toward me.
He doesn’t say anything for what feels like an eternity.
He is processing me: shirtless in his hallway.
His gaze drifts past me, down the hall, toward Sisk who seems to have changed and put on a fresh shirt thank fuck.
“What the—”
I panic. “Hello, sir, I’m—”
He charges. “What the hell—?! Get out! Get the hell out of my house, you little shit!”
I run, no hesitation. Bolt straight for the door and up the stairs two at a time.
I can still hear the echo of all of them screaming at once.
I burst out of the stairwell and onto the rooftop, sucking in the night air.
I lean against the ledge, trying to catch my breath, trying to process what just happened.
I start to laugh. I’m an idiot. A complete, total idiot.
I’m so, so screwed. That was not a good first impression.
Twenty minutes later, the door creaks open behind me. I glance back. Sisk’s carrying two pillows and a folded blanket.
“Sorry about that,” she winces, settling beside me.
“No, it’s… fine. I hate that he might think I’m…—” I trail off. She waits. “anything but good for you.”
She unwraps the blanket and starts laying things out.
“We’re not anything serious,” she says quietly.
I watch her, pretending I’m not gutted by that. “So what, are we just fuck buddies then? Is that what you’re calling this?”
She fluffs the pillow like it needs her full attention.
“Look at me,” I tell her.
She finally looks up. “What?”
“I’m done playing games. I want to be serious about you. About us.”
“I’m leaving soon, Jax. You know that.”
“I know,” I say. “But I still want to try. We can do long distance, or I can… I don’t know, move there.”
“What? No! You can’t do that,” she says, her voice rising with panic. “You can’t just throw your life away for some girl you slept with once.”
“Look, it’s not like I have college plans keeping me here,” I say, shrugging like it’s nothing. “I’ll get a job there. And hey,” I add, a smug smile touching my lips. “If you’re ready, I’m perfectly fine with being the guy you slept with twice.”
“Don’t joke about this,” she snaps, her eyes shining.
I inch closer and kiss her—slow, sad, like I already know how this ends. When we pull apart, she lays her head on my chest. I wrap my arm around her, and she curls into me like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“I need to do this on my own Jax.”
“Okay,” I pretend it’s ok. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna miss you.” I stroke her hair until she falls asleep like that—wrapped in my arms, while I stare up at the stars and pretend I don’t already feel her slipping away.
* * *
When you sleep without a roof, the sun wakes you up.
No gentle alarm, just a direct, unforgiving light that turns the inside of your eyelids red.
We both stir at the same time. I notice her parted lips, her silky hair, her long lashes…
They blink, slow, and her eyes focus on mine. “You’re staring,” she mumbles.
“Sorry. You’re, you know. Hot.”
“Just trying to get in my pants again?”
I cough. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Sure,” she says, nudging me with her shoulder.
And then the question I’ve been avoiding rises up anyway.
“You regret last night?” I ask.
She doesn’t look away. “No. You?”
My chest gets tight. I want to tell her everything—that last night broke something open in me, that everything else feels like shit now, that I can’t stop thinking about being inside her. That I want her to stay, no, need her to, but all I manage is, “No.”
She doesn’t seem convinced.
“If I’m being honest… I want more. A lot more. It’s probably a problem.”
“Give me a few minutes,” she says, stretching. “I’ll be right back.”
She heads for the door and I sit up and reach for the empty water bottle to take a piss, but then I stop. I’m rock hard. “A few minutes” are bouncing around in my skull. Did she mean a few minutes to raid the kitchen, or a few minutes for… this? I have no fucking idea.
I drag a hand down my face and adjust myself with a low groan because at this point it actually hurts.
I exhale hard, grab the bottle anyway, and walk it off to the far corner of the roof, giving her space in case she comes back sooner than expected, my brain still running through scenarios like a loser.
I get the bottle in position, but my dick has other ideas.
“Come on,” I growl.
I’m standing there, concentrating, willing my body to just cooperate, but it’s not happening.
The stream starts, stops, sprays off to the side at a weird angle.
And right before I can get a handle on the situation, a pigeon lands on the ledge next to me, cooing like it knows I’m pathetic.
I glance at it. “What are you looking at? You think it’s this easy to piss after seeing pussy like that for the first time?
” The pigeon just stares, unimpressed. Without warning, it launches itself forward with a sudden flap of its wings and an aggressive head bob, right into my personal space.
I lose my balance, stumbling a little as I try to aim the fucking thing.
I get so pissed I just toss the bottle aside and decide to aim for the pigeon instead.
Just as I let loose, the roof door creaks open and Sisk steps out, her eyes going wide as she takes in the scene: me, half-naked, pissing off a roof at a bird.
“Pitfire,” I curse, trying to shove myself back in my jeans. “He started it,” I tell her.
“Johnny would never,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “He’s a gentleman.”
“You’re telling me you know this pigeon in particular?”
She puts the bag down. “I call them all Johnny.”
I’m laughing until I notice the plastic bag at her feet. Shit. I think she meant food.
“Scored what I could,” she says. “You get Millie’s banana bread with—wait for it—walnuts.”
“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”
She hands me a piece of the bread, then grabs one for herself. We eat in silence for a minute, legs stretched out, shoulders brushing. The city loud below: traffic, a dog barking, somewhere, someone slamming a car door.
“You ever think about how weird it is?” she asks suddenly.
“What?”
“That the world just… keeps going. Like, we’re up here, doing our own thing, and everyone else is just… in motion. No idea what we’re feeling. No idea we even exist.”
I glance over at her. “Is it weird that I like it that way? The privacy.”
She looks out at the horizon. “Is it weird that I don’t?”
I study her face in profile—how her mouth curves when she’s thinking.
“Probably the dance,” she says, taking a bite. “I keep having this dream… theater packed with people. Maybe I want someone to notice.”
“I notice.”
She turns to me, chewing, and covers her mouth with the back of her hand. “What?”
“I notice. I notice how you bite your bottom lip when you’re thinking about something that bothers you.
I notice you always crack your neck to the left before you say something important.
I notice you hum songs when you think no one’s listening.
I notice how you hide your birthmark like it isn’t cute.
Pisses me off because it’s damn cute. I notice how your eyes get this little sparkle right before you’re about to say something smartass.
I notice you, okay? I’ve been noticing.”
I pause, letting my eyes drop from hers down to her lips, then back up. “I notice how you breathe a little faster when I get this close to you. And I notice that you’re doing it right now.”
Her cheeks flush, and she looks away, breaking the tension.
“So not many nights left in this hellhole for you,” I say, changing the subject, trying to calm my own body down. “You must be thrilled.”
She breathes. “I thought I would be. I don’t know. I feel guilty too.”
“Because of your parents?” I ask, setting the food aside.
“Yeah.” She stares down at her food. “They've spent my whole life helping me get here, and now I'm... leaving them.”
I hate the sadness in her voice. Hate the way it makes me feel useless. Before she can sink any deeper into it, I move closer and wrap an arm around her. “Is this fucked up?” I ask quietly. “Wanting you again already?”
“No,” she says finally. “But we probably shouldn’t.”
I nod but neither of us moves.
She’s still holding the last of the food between her fingers.
I lean in and take a bite, grinning as I do.
A crumb gets stuck on the corner of my mouth, and before I can brush it away, her thumb is there, gently wiping my lip.
Without breaking eye contact, she brings that thumb to her own mouth and slowly licks the crumb off.
“Bad little rabbit,” I catch her wrist and bring her thumb back to my own mouth, sucking the sweetness off her skin, then bite down just enough to make her gasp.
“I’m still hungry,” I say, pulling her to straddle me.
“Jax…” she warns, barely audible.
“Yeah?”
“We said just once.”
“Did we?” My hand slides up her back to tangle in her hair, using it to tilt her head to the side. “I think I missed that part.” I drag my teeth along the sensitive skin of her neck, before soothing the sting with my tongue.
She should pull back. She doesn’t.