Have I mentioned you-know-who is a DAMN good kisser? Heavens to Purgatory and Beyond, he can kiss the booty off of Kim Kardashian and that is no small task. It’s a shame I keep shutting him down, because those lips are all I can think about…
SOS,
M
Charles is able to arrange flights back for us that night. We land at San Diego International Airport at ten p.m. and there’s a car waiting to drive us home. The plane ride and the fifteen-minute car ride are painfully long. I haven’t taken any pain medication since this morning and my ankle is making me aware of it. But the silence between Jaxson and me is much more excruciating.
He’s tried to talk several times and I’ve been polite but shut him down every time. All I know is I can’t be around him right now. I can’t be in love with Jaxson Marshall anymore. It didn’t work in the past, and it won’t work this time. I’m embarrassed I let things go as far as they did. I think he believes our lusty moments were because of the meds where I’m concerned, but as soon as his lips touched mine, I was fully aware of what I was doing. I’m just glad one of us had the wherewithal to stop when things got out of hand.
We pull in front of my house and I turn to him. “Thank you for everything, Jaxson. This trip was what I needed in so many ways. You helped me see that I can talk about Tyra and not fall apart…it actually helps to talk about her. You were a gracious host and took great care of me when I fell. I appreciate that. And I needed this closure.”
His brows crinkle together in the middle and he opens his mouth.
“Thank you.” I turn to open the door and he puts his hand on my back to stop me.
“What do you mean by closure?” he asks.
“Do I need to spell it out?” I ask, looking over my shoulder. “I think we both needed to see that our past is just that, the past. Everything we’ve tried has backfired, even when I was willing to have sex with you this morning.”
“So I did wreck everything when I stopped. Stopping was the last thing I wanted to do! I was trying to do the right thing…” he rushes to say.
The driver turns the lights off and it’s the first time I think about him hearing this whole conversation.
“You did do the right thing,” I assure Jaxson. I kiss my fingers and put them on his cheek. “I’m so glad you did.” He starts to respond and I shake my head. “Let’s just leave it at that, okay? Good night, Jaxson. Goodbye. I wish you well.”
I step out of the car and he gets out to help me to the door, muttering, “I hate it when you say that. You wish me well,” he sputters. “Don’t talk to me like we’re strangers, Mira. We’re not. I know you love me. You’re just afraid. You told me you loved me last night. Did you know that?”
I look at him in horror. He sets the suitcase down at the door and nods.
“It’s true. You did. And I told you I loved you back. It was the best night I’ve ever had. And we can have a lifetime like that, if you’ll just let us.”
I laugh. “We’re kids, Jaxson. I’m not even twenty-one yet. You’re twenty-two and aren’t even a hundred percent sure of what you want to do with your life. I’m not knocking it—it’s normal. We have time to know those things. This—we—are not normal.”
“I don’t need to be older to know how I feel. And I’d rather not be normal with you than to be normal with anyone else!” he yells. “You’re breaking my heart, Bells. How can you keep shutting your heart to me? And what can I do to crack it open again?” He puts his head in his hands and rubs his eyes. When he looks at me again in the glow of the porchlight, he looks raw and empty. “Please don’t make me live another day without you. Please,” he says softly. He steps closer and puts his hands on my face. He looks from one eye to another as if willing me to hear him, but I take one of his hands from my cheek, kiss his palm, and walk inside, shutting the door softly behind me.
When my dad left, my mom cried every day for a year. I vowed then that no one would ever break me that way. It didn’t work. I’ve been broken more than once, but I keep thinking eventually I’ll learn.
Jaxson is my weakness. He asked how to crack my heart open and he doesn’t realize that he does every single time we’re together. I’m not immune to him, and I’m afraid if I let him in one more time and he breaks me again, I’ll never get over it.
Dave and Mum hover over me for the next few days, concerned over my injury, concerned over my state of mind.
“I’ll take off work today, sweetie…keep you company,” Mum says each morning when she wakes me up before she leaves for work.
I roll over and put my pillow over my head. “Absolutely not,” I insist. “Let me sleep, Mum. Go to work.”
Dave checks on me when he gets home from work. “Can I get you anything? Need help getting down the stairs? I can set you up down there…it’ll give you a change of scenery,” he says, trying to get me out of my bedroom.
“I’m good here. I need the space. It’s okay,” I tell him.
I try to withdraw into myself, the place I go when I feel too precarious. But no one will give me peace.
Jaxson texts and calls regularly, checking to see how I’m feeling, and if my ankle is improving as it should. And whatever is on his mind at the time. I want him to leave me alone, but he’s like a persistent fly swarming around in my head. Sometimes I reply, sometimes I don’t.
I think that cast makes your leg look extra hot. And my god, imagine when the cast comes off. Your ankle will be abnormally small compared to the other one. I can’t wait for that.
Me: I’m so over this %*@(&@# cast. And you have the wrong number. Perv.
Are you working this Saturday?
Me: Not this week but next. Why?
The guys and I got a last minute gig at Brigley’s Saturday night. You should come. Speaking of work. I didn’t even ask how your job is going.
Me: I still love making people beautiful on the most important day of their life. We stay busy and make way better money than we used to. The occasional D-List celebrity wedding can be surprisingly good money. I can afford to keep Sundays free for homework!
It’s incredibly sexy that you’re pursuing what you love. Also, that was the most appropriate use of an exclamation—great placement, and not three thousand of them.
See, not the wrong number at all.
Me: Weddings will be tricky with this cast. It can be done, but I’ll have to get a stool or something. !!!!!
You sassy bugger!
Liesl will bedazzle the stool if you’re not careful.
Areola.
Me: What?
Just seeing if you’re still here.
Me: Nope.
Can I come over?
Me: No.
Between his ridiculous texts, I reorganize my bookshelves and closet while catching up on Netflix shows. Maddie comes over and we eat ice cream while watching more Netflix. After days of not accomplishing much, I don’t even feel guilty about how bedraggled I look. My hair is a dirty, tangled mess, I’m wearing a pair of old glasses that are crooked, and I haven’t worn makeup since I got back from New York. This is a record for me.
What are you doing now?
I ignore him and keep watching Doctor Zhivago. A box of tissues is clutched to my chest and I swipe my eyes every few minutes. The starkness of the desolate winter and the tragic love between Yuri and Lara are more than I can take. I sob into the tissues but can’t look away. The movie is almost over when the doorbell rings. I ignore it and it keeps ringing and ringing.
Finally, ticked, I pause the movie and stand up, moving as cautiously and quietly as I can with this dumb cast toward the window to see if I can tell who it is.
The ringing stops and then I hear, “I’m coming up.”
“What? What are you doing here?” I twist around in a panic and wince as my ankle doesn’t move along with me as fast as I’d like. I catch a glimpse of myself in the dresser mirror and want to die. “Do not come in,” I tell him.
Just as he’s saying, “I’m coming in. If you don’t want me to see anything, cover up.”
When he opens my door, I give him the death stare. “I said ‘do not come in’ and I meant it. How did you even get in?”
He grins. “The key is still where you guys have always hidden it. Listen, you’ve been avoiding me long enough. I’ve tried various approaches with you and letting you stew has not worked well for me in the past. So I’m here.” He shrugs. He takes a closer look at me. “Have you been crying? Bells, what am I gonna do with you?”
“I was watching a sad movie…nothing to do with you, so you can move along.”
“I’ll watch it with you. What are we watching?” He gets on my bed and pats the covers next to him.
“Why are you so annoying?”
“I like to think I’m older and wiser this time around,” he says quietly. “And I’ve always had an annoying streak, right?” He laughs and then frowns when I don’t join him. “We don’t have to talk today if you don’t want to, but I need to be near you.” He pats the covers again and unpauses the movie. “Ooo, did you know that the author who wrote this based Lara on his real-life mistress, Olga?”
“Shhh.”
“Sassy bugger,” he whispers and turns back to the movie, a satisfied smile on his face.