Page 85 of Rock Me

“Fuck it. You’re not worth it.” Jez spins around to face me. “Let’s go, Noémie.”

“Go?” I repeat, and I can’t think of anything more I want than to leave with him.

“Right now. Let’s go, grab your things and come with me right now.” He looks even more alive than when he finally could hold a pen that day in PT.

“You’re not fucking serious,” Chris hisses. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

“What do you care?” Jez says, not bothering to look at him.

Chris snickers, “I don’t. Good luck to you. She’s going to make you regret it,” he says as he throws the flowers onto the bed and storms out of the room, taking his noxious aftershave with him. I can’t think about him now. Hopefully I never will again.

“You ready?” Jez asks me, and all I can do is nod and grim. He grabs my hand and moves toward the door.

“Wait.” He stops and let’s go of my hand. And my heart sinks.

He’s changed his mind, already. I’m too much work. I watch as he walks over to my bed and picks up my ukulele and tucks it under his arm as he takes my hand in his again.

“Can’t leave that.”

I grin at him so big I must look like an absolute fool.

He grins right back, just as foolishly, making me throw my head back and laugh. I’m so happy I can barely contain it.

“Let’s go.” I’m the one to say it, this time.

He nods. “Let’s go.”

Our hands entwined, we run to the elevator and the doors open immediately. We climb on and as the doors close behind us, I see a crowd running towards us from Jez’s room. He just waves to their confused faces and I burst out laughing again, my heart brimming with joy.

We turn to face each other and the smiles on our faces soften.

And fade.

The look in his eyes now burning hot.

It makes me burn for him in return.

“Noémie,” he whispers. His voice full of lust. And my body lunges forward, to be with him.

He catches me, and we kiss.

We kiss like we’ve longed to kiss.

Like there’s nothing and nobody else in the world.

His mouth is hot, almost searing against mine, and I feel something between my legs start to pulse.

“God,” I moan, scratching my nails down his back.

“You are going to be the death of me, girl,” he growls. “But I’ll go willingly if I can keep kissing you.”

“Shut up and just do it,” I say, and he does.

It takes someone clearing their throat before we realize the elevator has reached the lobby and that people are waiting to get on. Jez takes my hand and we run out, out past the front desk, out of our prison and through the front entrance.

He flags down a cab and climbs in after me.

“Where to?” he asks me.