Aflame
Page 53
Tate and I would fuck.
Hopefully tomorrow, when she was ready to admit that she wanted me back, but until then . . .
I wasn’t wasting days, weeks, or even months going round and round. I’d have her heart first.
Walking into the house, I noticed Jax, Juliet, Pasha, and Fallon curled up on the couch and carpet watching a movie, so I went into the kitchen to find Madoc, sitting at the table, making a sandwich.
I slowly lowered myself into a chair and leaned back, needing sleep and my best friend’s perspective.
“Are you okay?” he asked, loading his bread with mustard.
I shook my head. “No.”
I glanced at him, ready to do something I’d never done before, and confide in him. I wanted him to tell me she was okay. That I was good for her, and that I was everything she needed.
But his scared blue eyes were focused downward, and he inched back.
“Yeah, well,” he said warily, “your dick is hard, dude, and it’s kind of freaking me out. We’ll talk later.”
And he abruptly grabbed his plate and can of soda, getting up and leaving the kitchen.
I looked down to see, indeed, I was still completely jacked up from the episode outside.
My chest shook with laughter. “You don’t like it?” I called after him. “Freud said everyone was bisexual, right?”
“Yeah, fuck you,” he shot back.
I let my head fall back, laughing my ass off.
Chapter 13
Tate
A week.
He’d asked me to take the week, probably figuring I’d take a day, but in the end, he was right.
Go figure.
I needed the time, and I couldn’t believe he was the one telling me we needed to slow down.
The next day I’d felt terrible about Ben. About trying to force something that I wanted but wasn’t feeling.
After all, Ben was stable, predictable, and calm. Everything Jared wasn’t.
And I was tired of being a cliché.
Terminal good girl wants bad boy every time, right?
So I had tried changing my stripes, only to learn that it wasn’t a question of bad boy versus good man. It was Jared versus every other guy on the planet, and having him near again reminded me of how awful life had been without him.
Plain and simple, I still loved him.
I realized this about the time I arrived at work on Monday morning. Then I spent the evening shopping with Juliet, and when I got home, he didn’t call or knock on my door.
I definitely expected him to crawl through my window again that night, but when I woke on Tuesday morning, he wasn’t there.
So I decided there was no need to rush things. Part of me still didn’t trust him. He’d deserted me twice, and although I saw the proof that he’d grown up, there was no need to dive in headfirst every time.
I’d take the week, do my job and my reading, get my car ready for the weekend, and see what happened. I knew the ball was in my court, but also that I liked it when he pursued me. I always had.
But other than a few sideways glances, he’d left me alone.
When I got home yesterday, I saw him and Jax standing in the driveway with a couple of other guys and Jared’s Ford Mustang Boss 302. The same car he’d had in high school, and the same one I’d spent countless hours in and done countless things with him in.
I didn’t know if they were his friends or coworkers of some sort, but they’d clearly brought his car to him. There was another car in the driveway as well, but this morning when I left for work, it was gone. I figured whoever brought the car must’ve left.
So Jared had wanted his Boss here. I wondered why.
I sat up, grabbing the water bottle and spraying my face, little specks tickling my skin. Juliet was lying on the lawn chair next to me, on her stomach, with her face buried in her phone, while Fallon had gone inside to grab waters.
It was after seven on Friday night, and even though the sun was beyond the horizon, we were still lying out in my backyard, enjoying the remnants of heat and the drone of summer sounds. Lawn mowers, insects in the trees, air-conditioning units . . . and the buzz on my skin, attuned to every little sound of him next door. His music, his car engine . . .
“What are you doing?” I heard Fallon ask, and I turned to see her looking at Juliet, confused as she set the water bottles down on the little round table.
“What?” Juliet looked up at her.
Fallon sat back in the lawn chair, her emerald green bikini bringing out the color in her eyes.
“That’s Jax’s phone,” she pointed out, catching Juliet red-handed.
I grinned, eyeing Juliet suspiciously just as much as Fallon.
Juliet thinned out her lips, thoughtful. “I heard there’s this app where you track each other’s phones. I’m trying to put it on his.”
“Oh, my God.” Fallon reached out and grabbed the phone out of Juliet’s hands. “Jax has corrupted you. Are you really that worried?”
Juliet got up on all fours and turned around, sitting down. “You’re telling me you’re not the least bit concerned that our boyfriends”—and then she pointed to Fallon—“and your husband are going to a strip club tonight?”
“No,” Fallon shot back. “You know why? Because I know Madoc.”
She plucked her sunglasses off the top of her head and slid them over her eyes, continuing, “As soon as he gets to the club, he’s going to take a selfie or some shit and send it to me to brag.” The casual grin on her lips spread wider. “Twenty minutes after that he’s going to text, telling me he wishes I was up onstage dancing for him. And about an hour later, he’s going to barge through our door, horny as a teenage boy, and wanting who?” She placed a palm on her chest. “Me. And I won’t be home, because we’re going out, and he’ll be frantic, wondering where the hell I am.”
Hopefully tomorrow, when she was ready to admit that she wanted me back, but until then . . .
I wasn’t wasting days, weeks, or even months going round and round. I’d have her heart first.
Walking into the house, I noticed Jax, Juliet, Pasha, and Fallon curled up on the couch and carpet watching a movie, so I went into the kitchen to find Madoc, sitting at the table, making a sandwich.
I slowly lowered myself into a chair and leaned back, needing sleep and my best friend’s perspective.
“Are you okay?” he asked, loading his bread with mustard.
I shook my head. “No.”
I glanced at him, ready to do something I’d never done before, and confide in him. I wanted him to tell me she was okay. That I was good for her, and that I was everything she needed.
But his scared blue eyes were focused downward, and he inched back.
“Yeah, well,” he said warily, “your dick is hard, dude, and it’s kind of freaking me out. We’ll talk later.”
And he abruptly grabbed his plate and can of soda, getting up and leaving the kitchen.
I looked down to see, indeed, I was still completely jacked up from the episode outside.
My chest shook with laughter. “You don’t like it?” I called after him. “Freud said everyone was bisexual, right?”
“Yeah, fuck you,” he shot back.
I let my head fall back, laughing my ass off.
Chapter 13
Tate
A week.
He’d asked me to take the week, probably figuring I’d take a day, but in the end, he was right.
Go figure.
I needed the time, and I couldn’t believe he was the one telling me we needed to slow down.
The next day I’d felt terrible about Ben. About trying to force something that I wanted but wasn’t feeling.
After all, Ben was stable, predictable, and calm. Everything Jared wasn’t.
And I was tired of being a cliché.
Terminal good girl wants bad boy every time, right?
So I had tried changing my stripes, only to learn that it wasn’t a question of bad boy versus good man. It was Jared versus every other guy on the planet, and having him near again reminded me of how awful life had been without him.
Plain and simple, I still loved him.
I realized this about the time I arrived at work on Monday morning. Then I spent the evening shopping with Juliet, and when I got home, he didn’t call or knock on my door.
I definitely expected him to crawl through my window again that night, but when I woke on Tuesday morning, he wasn’t there.
So I decided there was no need to rush things. Part of me still didn’t trust him. He’d deserted me twice, and although I saw the proof that he’d grown up, there was no need to dive in headfirst every time.
I’d take the week, do my job and my reading, get my car ready for the weekend, and see what happened. I knew the ball was in my court, but also that I liked it when he pursued me. I always had.
But other than a few sideways glances, he’d left me alone.
When I got home yesterday, I saw him and Jax standing in the driveway with a couple of other guys and Jared’s Ford Mustang Boss 302. The same car he’d had in high school, and the same one I’d spent countless hours in and done countless things with him in.
I didn’t know if they were his friends or coworkers of some sort, but they’d clearly brought his car to him. There was another car in the driveway as well, but this morning when I left for work, it was gone. I figured whoever brought the car must’ve left.
So Jared had wanted his Boss here. I wondered why.
I sat up, grabbing the water bottle and spraying my face, little specks tickling my skin. Juliet was lying on the lawn chair next to me, on her stomach, with her face buried in her phone, while Fallon had gone inside to grab waters.
It was after seven on Friday night, and even though the sun was beyond the horizon, we were still lying out in my backyard, enjoying the remnants of heat and the drone of summer sounds. Lawn mowers, insects in the trees, air-conditioning units . . . and the buzz on my skin, attuned to every little sound of him next door. His music, his car engine . . .
“What are you doing?” I heard Fallon ask, and I turned to see her looking at Juliet, confused as she set the water bottles down on the little round table.
“What?” Juliet looked up at her.
Fallon sat back in the lawn chair, her emerald green bikini bringing out the color in her eyes.
“That’s Jax’s phone,” she pointed out, catching Juliet red-handed.
I grinned, eyeing Juliet suspiciously just as much as Fallon.
Juliet thinned out her lips, thoughtful. “I heard there’s this app where you track each other’s phones. I’m trying to put it on his.”
“Oh, my God.” Fallon reached out and grabbed the phone out of Juliet’s hands. “Jax has corrupted you. Are you really that worried?”
Juliet got up on all fours and turned around, sitting down. “You’re telling me you’re not the least bit concerned that our boyfriends”—and then she pointed to Fallon—“and your husband are going to a strip club tonight?”
“No,” Fallon shot back. “You know why? Because I know Madoc.”
She plucked her sunglasses off the top of her head and slid them over her eyes, continuing, “As soon as he gets to the club, he’s going to take a selfie or some shit and send it to me to brag.” The casual grin on her lips spread wider. “Twenty minutes after that he’s going to text, telling me he wishes I was up onstage dancing for him. And about an hour later, he’s going to barge through our door, horny as a teenage boy, and wanting who?” She placed a palm on her chest. “Me. And I won’t be home, because we’re going out, and he’ll be frantic, wondering where the hell I am.”
