Chapter 37: Twenty Five

9:01 PM When it's over, we head inside the house and settle on the couch with a blanket. I cannot wipe the damned grin from my face. Afterglow, no doubt. I sit myself close to Jax. His arm falls lazily around my shoulder. "So your vow of silence sucked, Angel." I laugh. "No joining the monastery in any conceivable future." "My gender rules me out from any higher calling as a Monk." Jackson gives me a small squeeze. "Fair enough. Hey, do you have your phone on you?" "I was naked as the day I was born ten minutes ago," I point out. "So, no. Why?" "Smells like rain outside, wanted to check the weather. Mine's in my room." "Mine's on the counter," I say, standing. "I can get mine," he offers. "Sit down." "It's alright. Mine's right there." I walk to the kitchen while Jax settles back into his chair. My phone is sitting face down on the granite. I scoop it up and flip it over. As soon as my thumb slides across the surface, Xavier's text pops up. Five words. They unravel me. You should be with me. My eyes fly to Jax and thank God, are met with the back of his head. I can only imagine what the look on my face spells out in this moment. Terror. Pure and undeniable terror. My fingers are sweaty as I try to delete the text message. As if Jackson is somehow going to fly over here and read it over my shoulder. I glance at the phone in my hands and will them to stop shaking. I must wait a minute but it feels like an hour. I look at the screen and open the weather app. "It's not going to rain," I say. My words get stuck in my throat on the way out so I clear it and repeat them. "Jax, it's supposed to be cloudy but no rain." He turns around on the couch, his eyes to the kitchen. "Wouldn't be the first time I was wrong." I set the phone back down on the counter, praying my shitty grip on the thing isn't going to result in a fall and a smashed screen. It doesn't. On second thought, I pick it up. "Jackson?" "Yeah?" "I'm gonna have a shower." He smirks. "Need any help?" "I've had enough of you for now," I tell him, smiling. It's only partially true. If not for the utter chaos taking place in my brain right now, I'd welcome his company but I can't. I need some time to get my head together. "I don't think I can handle any more." "Don't be too long. We can watch a movie. I'll even suffer through a chick flick for you." I do a mental inventory of the stuff in Jackson's kitchen, searching my brain for something I know isn't there. "A movie, huh?" "Yeah," Jax says decidedly, "your pick, Angel." "Do you have milk duds?" "No," he says. "Don't think I do. Why? You want some?" "Kind of," I say. "I mean, I wouldn't oppose you buying milk duds or anything." Jackson rises to his feet, stalks over and plants a kiss on my forehead. "What Lola wants, Lola gets." I smile. "Thank you." "Shower. I'll be back with your milk duds by the time you get out." I wait for him to walk out the door and lock it behind him, before spinning on my heels and heading down the hallway, phone in hand, fingers flying across the keyboard. X What? You don't mean that I do. Every word. I stare at the screen as if I can look at it long enough and erase his text. You can't Why not? He doesn't know you Lola. Not like I do. No one knows me like you do. That's not fair. Neither is having to stand around and watch my life get scooped up by some magical fucking figment of your imagination come to life. I'm not your life Try again, Mouse. You are. You know it. So were you keeping me on standby till you got through your little black book? There is no reply. Angry now, I place the phone on the counter, strip my clothes off and shower before Jackson and my milk duds return. I pick "Pretty Woman" and focus on the film, embracing the moment with Jackson and the way the milk duds melt on my tongue. I focus on anything but Xavier. ***** The following morning I get out of bed and Jackson doesn't so much as change his breathing. I must have tired him out. I put on my clothes, and retrieve my phone from the nightstand drawer where I'd put it after my shower. When I flip the screen over, I'm grateful that it's almost dead. Xavier's reply taunts me from the screen. Not standby. I wanted to be good enough for you. I don't respond. I pocket the phone in my jeans; as I do this I mentally prepare; I brace myself for the first, and I swear only time I will ever lie to Jackson. I rouse him from his sleep. He groans and rolls over, his eyelids fluttering open. They go from sleepy to surprised when he sees me dressed. "What's the rush, Angel?" "It's Tori," I say. "She texted me. I need to go home for a bit." "Everything okay?" "Yeah," I say, "everything is fine. Go back to sleep." He looks disappointed but not the least bit suspect. "Oh. Okay." He squints at the alarm clock. "You coming back later?" I nod and head to the bedroom door. "Not so fast." I turn to face him. "Get your fine ass back here and say see you later like you mean it." This earns a legitimate smile from me. I haul myself back to the bed and climb on it, making my way to Jackson. I place my mouth on his and his hand finds the back of my head, his fingers winding through my hair. When I pull away, he bites down softly on my lower lip. "That's better," he says. "See you later, Angel." Guilt chews away at my insides as I leave him behind. I walk at a brisk pace, which turns into a run. I want to throttle Xavier. No holding back. I cannot recall a single time I've ever been this angry with him. Not even in sixth grade when he tied my shoelaces together at a school assembly. By the time I get to his place, it's almost a full on rage. I bang my hand against the door on repeat until I hear Jared's voice. "Jesus, I'm coming. Keep your shirt on." He opens the door and sees me, his eyebrows inching up his despicable face. "Or take it off, Lola. I wouldn't mind." As much as I want to hit him, I fight the urge and look behind him. "Where's X?" "He just got back from the gym. I'm sure he was about to take a sho-" I push my way past him and march down the hallway, hellbent on making Xavier pay. I don't knock. I swing the door open. "Xavier." X is standing there in sweatpants that drop so low, I can see the way his lower abdominal muscles form the distinct 'v' that is spray tanned and glossy on all the covers of men's fitness magazines. It's not like I've never seen X without his shirt on. I don't know if it's because he is post-gym or if he has secretly been living there, but he's so lean, I can see veins snaking their way just beneath the surface of his skin. He has a white towel in his hands that he promptly deposits on the bed on account of my arrival. Even with a body that is undeniably, unmistakably all male, there's a certain vulnerability in his eyes. When he speaks, it carries through to his voice. "Hey Mouse." I can't let him disarm me. I'm mad. I'm angry. I'm livid. Despite my battery dying, I hold my phone up, screen flipped toward him. "How dare you?" I take a step forward. Waving the phone. "How dare you, Xavier." He doesn't so much as flinch. "How dare I what, Mouse? Love you?" He crosses his arms over his chest. "How dare I fall in love with you? You, who I've known for a lifetime." "How dare you wait until now to say something!" The muscles in my back tense, tight corded and taut. My head immediately begins to throb under the tension. I'm yelling. I think I'm yelling. I can't be sure. "Stop freaking out at me," Xavier says. "Let's talk about this, like adults." But I don't want to. I take another step toward him, tossing my phone behind him on the bed. "Fuck you!" I say. "Fuck you and talking like adults because it's real adult to wait until I'M IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE to tell me you love me." Xavier shrugs. "Better late than never." He is such a smug bastard. I move again, toward him, hand raised, determined to slap the damned look right off his face. I take aim and bring my elbow back to issue a hard slap across his face. Xavier has quick reflexes though and he captures my wrist without so much as batting an eyelash. This simple gesture infuriates me and I try with the free hand, only to meet the same fate. Xavier uses the sheer size of his body to back me up until my shoulder blades meet the wall and he pins my hands over my head. I glare at him but it has zero effect. Xavier bends his head down, keeping both of my hands imprisoned in one of his before bringing his mouth right by my ear. "Be mad at me all you want, Mouse. You're not going to hit me." "Let me go," I demand. "Calm down." I struggle. "Let me go." "Stop actin' crazy like I'm gonna hurt ya or something. Calm. Down." "Then let me go." "Not until I know you're not going to hit me." I can't promise that. So instead I mutter, "I hate you right now." "Yeah?" "Yes." "That's good Lola, wanna know why?" "No." "Too bad. I love to be the one you hate because at least I know beneath that icy exterior, you still feel something for me." I stop struggling. "Let me go," I say. Rage turns to sorrow and my tears prickle hot against my eyelids. "Are you gonna hit me?" I shake my head. "Please, Xavier." He doesn't let go of my wrists but he does release them from the wall, pulling them down so my arms are in front of me but he's still holding on. He brings my hand to his chest, setting it down on top of his heart. I can feel the steady, rapid thrumming. "Every beat is for you. Has been since I can remember. I'm sorry I was a dumb shit and never told you. I'm sorry I kept it to myself because I didn't think I was good enough. And I'm really sorry that I waited until someone else had the balls to make you realize how incredible you are but no one in this time or any other will love you like I do, Lola. No one." I move my hand away so fast, it's like he's burnt me. He lets go. My throat is thick-I'm swallowing crushed shards of glass past a knot. I push past him, and shakily retrieve my phone from the bed. "Lola," Xavier says. "You can't leave it like this." But I can. And I will. I stop at his bedroom door. Xavier is now nothing more than a blur through the tears that are saturating my eyes. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to form the words. "If that's true, if you really, really love me. You have to let me go." I pray my legs will make the journey from Xavier's bedroom door to his front door. They do, and mercifully they carry me to the stairwell before they collapse from underneath me.