1. Jax #2
I swear I see hurt flash through her eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. “Don’t be,” she says with a shrug as she turns and walks away, heading towards her bedroom. “Are you coming or what?”
I pause. This is a bad idea, but I don’t want things to be weird between us. That’s the closest we’ve ever come to crossing the line. We can’t cross that line. It’s too risky. And if I walk away now, that’s exactly what it will be—weird. Sighing, I follow her. I don’t have a choice.
“What the hell?” I mumble the second she opens her door.
Her bedroom is very … pink , just like her hair.
But that’s not what surprises me: it’s the huge display cabinets running the entire length of the far wall.
Rows and rows of trophies line the shelves.
“Did you do a ram-raid on a trophy store?”
“Very funny,” she says, nudging my shoulder. “No, I won them.”
“How?” I approach the cabinet closest to me and read the inscription on one of the trophies. Fuck me . “You’re a beauty queen?” I ask in amazement, swinging around to face her. How did I not know this? That’s when I spot all the sashes proudly displayed along the wall above her bed.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she says screwing up her pretty face. “My mum wants me to enter the Miss Australia pageant, but I’m not cut out for this kind of thing, Jax. I hate it.”
“Then why do you do it?”
She blows out a puff of air. “Sophia,” is all she says. I still find it weird that she calls her mother by her first name. Being called ‘Mum’ makes Sophia feel old.
“Oh.” I get that. My dad has been controlling my life for as long as I can remember.
“This is why she freaked out about my hair,” she says, gesturing around the room. “The Miss Australia pageant is only weeks away. This crap means everything to her. It’s what skyrocketed her modelling career, but it’s not for me … I don’t want that life.”
I’m kind of shocked by her revelation. My Candylicious is a beauty queen. Sure, she’s got the looks for it, she’s an absolute babe, but the Candice I know is far from that type of girl. “If I’m being honest, it’s not something I ever imagined you doing.”
“Exactly. You know me better than anyone. This is not who I am.”
She’s always so bubbly and outgoing, so I hate seeing her so deflated. I want to pull her into my arms, but I can’t— dangerous territory.
“Did you tell Sophia?”
“Yes. I’ve been telling her for years,” she answers with a sigh as she turns her face away from mine. “I guess she misses her old life, so she’s trying to live vicariously through me.”
“That’s messed up.”
“I know, right? Welcome to my life.”
“Mine’s not much better,” I admit. “I wish our parents would just let us live our lives the way we want.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
She crosses the room and my eyes follow.
Her sweet apple scent lingers in the air as she breezes past me.
I’m addicted to the way she smells. On any other occasion, I’d probably be checking out her arse, but our little encounter in the corridor just now, has me spooked.
When she bends over to retrieve something out of a drawer, I quickly divert my gaze to the ceiling.
“How long have you been doing this beauty thing?” I ask, trying to pull my thoughts out of the gutter.
“Since I was four,” she replies, glancing over her shoulder and rolling her eyes.
“I can’t believe you never mentioned it.”
“It’s not something I’m proud of.” The sadness in her voice tears at my heart. “Here.”
She passes me a shot glass, so I raise it to my nose, inhaling. The strong scent of aniseed invades my senses. Sambuca. Nice.
“Bottoms up,” she says, holding her glass in the air. “Or should I say, penises up?”
At first, her comment confuses me, but then I glance down at the glass in my hand. Why did I not see that before? It has a tiny penis handle and the words I Love Peckers written in bold letters across the front.
“Not happening,” I grumble, shoving the shot glass into her hand before frantically wiping my fingers down the front of my jeans to remove any trace of pecker germs. “What the hell is wrong with you? I’m not drinking out of a cock cup.”
Candice throws her head back and laughs. I’m glad she finds this amusing. “It’s just a glass, Jax, get over it.”
“A glass with a cock on it. Would you drink out of a pussy cup?” I ask, smugly. “And I’m not referring to the feline kind.”
“Um, yeah. It’s just a damn cup. The shape or design holds no significance.”
How did we go from talking about beauty queens to genitals? I rub my hands over my face. Christ, I need to get out of her room before I do something I’m going to regret for the rest of my life.
“It does if you’re male and it’s shaped like a cock,” I say.
“Fine. More for me.” She downs her shot, quickly followed by mine.
Clenching her eyes shut, she shakes her head slightly as she swallows the liquid.
I grin as I watch her. She’s like no other girl I know.
I think that’s the thing I love most about her.
When her eyes spring open, she looks at me sceptically.
“Mm, mm,” she moans, running her tongue over her bottom lip, and I detest that it makes my dick twitch.
Why does my best friend have to be so damn sexy?
When her baby blues re-open they immediately lock on my face.
“When did you become a homophobe, Jaxson Albright?”
“I’m not. I have no problem with a guy drinking out of a cock cup, as long as it’s not me.”
When she laughs again, I swear I hear her mumble ‘pussy’ under her breath.
I’ll give her pussy .
Stalking across the room, I grab the open bottle of Sambuca off her dresser and bring it to my lips.
Two hours and an empty bottle of Sambuca later, it’s safe to say we’re both drunk. We’re sprawled out, lying side by side on her mattress and staring at the ceiling. Being on the bed with her is a bad idea, but the alcohol seems to have robbed me of my common sense.
“I’m going to miss you while you’re away,” Candice whispers, reaching for my hand. I’m going to miss her too. Fuck am I going to miss her. My chest aches just thinking about it. “Oh, that reminds me, I got you a present.” Sitting up, she leaps off the bed.
“It’s not cock paraphernalia, is it?”
“No, you dork.” She laughs, coming back to sit down on the edge of the mattress. “Here.”
I look at the parcel in her hand. “You shouldn’t have,” I say, rolling onto my side and propping myself onto one elbow.
“I wanted to. I hope you like it.”
I’ll like it because it’s from her . When she extends her hand, I take the present before pushing myself into a sitting position.
“Candice,” I murmur when I see what’s inside.
“I know you’re not studying art at uni, but one day you’ll get to fulfil your dream. In the meantime, you can keep all your sketches in there.”
A knot rises to the back of my throat as I gaze down at the black leatherbound sketchpad.
It has Jax’s Dream embossed in silver across the front, and the words Wicked Ink curved around an image of a skull and crossbones underneath.
This gift signifies so much. Candice is the only one who’s ever supported my dream. I love her for that alone.
“Thank you,” I say as my eyes meet hers.
“You will open your own tattoo parlour one day, Jaxson Albright, I know it.” I love the conviction in her voice.
A sudden wave of sadness washes over me. “How am I going to survive the next few years without you?”
She sighs, staring down at her hand as she swirls a figure-eight pattern in the pink comforter.
“Hey,” I say, placing my finger under her chin and dipping my head to make eye contact with her. When I see tears pooling in her baby blues, it’s like a sucker punch to the chest. I pull her into my arms. “Please, don’t cry.”
“You’re the bestest friend a girl could ever ask for,” she sniffles.
“And you’re the bestest friend a guy could ever ask for.” Shit, I sound like a chick. I can’t believe I just utter those words. That would have to be, hands down, the unmanliest thing I’ve ever said. I hear her chuckle through her tears, and I know she’s thinking exactly what I am.
“When am I going to see you again?”
“There’s a spare room at my apartment in Sydney. Once I’m settled, you can come and stay some weekends.”
“I’d like that.”
My thumb sweeps across her cheek, wiping away her tears. It kills me to see her upset. I wish I didn’t have to leave her behind.
Her eyes lock with mine, and just like in the hallway earlier, something shifts.
The air around us crackles, and it feels like the universe has suddenly stopped spinning.
I’m frozen. When her gaze flicks down to my mouth, and her tongue darts out to moisten her plump pink lips, my need to kiss her again is almost my undoing.
I’ve got to get out of here. I’m trying to be the good guy.
Before I get the chance to react, she leans towards me as her eyes drift shut. The instant our mouths connect all my resolve vanishes. My fingers thread through her hair as I draw her closer, deepening the kiss. I’m so lost in this moment, I’m powerless to stop it.
“Jax,” she whispers against my mouth as she pushes me back down on the mattress. The second she straddles my lap and her sweet lips meet mine again, I know I’m a goner.
“Candice,” I breathe, trailing my fingers up the outside of her legs, my hands coming to rest on her arse. This is my wildest dream and my worst nightmare all rolled into one. I’ve longed for and dreaded this moment since I first laid eyes on her.
She’s my kryptonite.
I groan into her mouth when she rotates her hips over my now rock-hard cock. I need to put a stop to this, but I can’t. I crave her too much.
When she abruptly draws back, I’m filled with mixed emotions. I’m thankful that, unlike me, she has the strength to halt this monumental mistake, but a part of me is gutted too.