Chapter 2 #2
It’s fascinating to understand the inner workings of a publication and what drives the number of pages each day, plus see an article I’ve written make it into the final edition.
It’s mind-blowing that something of this magnitude is left in the hands of undergrads.
And no pressure—the newspaper has never missed a day in school history, so none of us intends to let that happen on our watch.
I fill him in on what I hate (hard news articles) and what I want (lifestyle features), and how the editor allowed me to pitch him five suggested features, and he’ll green light one.
Mick pours me another glass of wine as I rattle them off: how to get the perfect tan, best surfing spots in the region, finding true love on campus, what books students are reading, and advice faculty would tell their younger selves.
“Great ideas, baby. Bet he picks the last one,” he says. “It’s got a lot of meat to it. I can’t wait to read it.”
The familiar pride unfurls inside. I’m the plant and he’s the water, and with his praise, I bloom.
We finish dinner. While I’m cleaning up, Mick tries calling Remy again, but there’s still no answer.
“Should we call his parents?” I ask. “Maybe they know where he is.”
“Negative. That will only sound the alarms and piss off Remy.”
I sigh, frustrated and annoyed, even though he’s right.
Where the fuck is he?
We take our drinks and sit in the lounge chairs out front to watch the sunset. The sky is painted with vivid color over the Pacific, deep oranges and reds with slashes of purple and gold. We soak in the beauty, which almost seems created just for us.
As the sun begins its descent into the depths, my skin chills and I climb between Mick’s legs, absorbing his warmth as I lay back against his chest.
“Mick?”
“Hmm? ”
“Do you ever have any regrets…about the three of us?”
He’s quiet, as if curating his response. “Yes. And no. Here’s the thing…if I had to choose between not having you or sharing you with my best friend, there was only one answer.”
I digest his words.
“I never meant to fall in love with you,” he admits. “I resisted it, but I’m not sure I had a choice. From the first hit, I’ve been fucked.”
“That’s why you call me ‘heroin’?”
“Exactly why. Those honey eyes, long hair, body that won’t quit…
fucking irresistible. But that was just initially.
You’re the whole package, Jax. Your mind, sense of humor, kindness, willingness to go for what you want.
Everything about you makes me want to be with you, near you, inside you.
And now…I can’t see my life without you in it.
” He caresses my forearm, sending a ripple of tiny bumps across my skin.
That’s a confession he’s never made. And I swim in it, reaching up to squeeze the other arm he’s wrapped around me.
“If I hadn’t left, hadn’t shut the door, maybe you wouldn’t have gone there with Remy.
I can’t really blame you.” Mick scoffs and it’s tinged with…
bitterness? Sarcasm? “I’m sure it’s what he wanted from the very beginning.
And because Remy can be a total dog, I didn’t want him to treat you poorly. ” He pauses.
“That’s bullshit,” he admits. “I wanted you for myself even knowing I couldn’t expect it, considering…” He trails off. “But I’ve seen firsthand how Remy feels about you…and it’s pretty much how I feel about you, so I can’t exactly fault the asshole, can I?”
He’s right. If Mick had never left, I never would’ve sought Remy’s arms. I’m about to agree, pushing though the discomfiting tightness in my chest, when he continues .
“If I have to share with someone, it could only work with Remy…because I couldn’t handle this with anyone else. And I can’t imagine choosing this again in my lifetime.”
I exhale a big breath at his admission, even as it creates new questions and underlying tensions. “I know it’s not normal .” The word tastes bitter on my tongue. “And I hate that our relationship is like some dirty little secret.”
If society saw us openly sharing each other, we’d be ostracized, judged, ridiculed, labeled as deviants, more. Weirdly, it does seem natural. So how can it be wrong? Why are there hangups and unwritten rules about human behavior and appropriate relationship constructs?
Mick doesn’t comment but squeezes me reassuringly.
Keeping my rambling thoughts to myself, I ask, “Are you worried about how this will end up?”
“I don’t think about it, and I don’t have the answers. All I know is I’m fucking crazy about you—so is Remy—and we’re just going to ride this thing out.”
“I’m crazy about you too,” I murmur, lifting my head, my lips, in offering.
Our kiss begins soft, turns to probing, then heated. His hand cups my jaw, his other hand lacing through my hair as he hardens beneath me. We don’t even notice when the sun sinks fully below the horizon, plunging us into twilight.
When we part, Mick issues a command in his deep, husky voice. “Now get your sweet ass in my bed so I can show you how much I fucking love and worship you.”