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Liam twists his body around the seat and smiles at Sophie. “Probably because he drank enough to kill off a majority of his brain cells.”
Sophie clasps her hands together. “He’s supposed to compliment her and then apologize.”
“You can’t make Jax do anything he doesn’t want to do. That’s what makes him…well…so Jax.” Liam looks over at his friend.
And that right there is my biggest dilemma. I want to know what makes Jax feel like he doesn’t deserve anything good in his life.
I want to know about the man who hides behind trashy news articles and mindless sex. The man who whispers to himself about not being good enough.
I want to know more about him, and I’m not sure if I have enough control to hold myself back from trying.
The moment Jax wakes up, I’m in his space. He looks about as fresh as one would expect after drinking their mind into a stupor the night before. I wouldn’t be surprised if his skin tasted like his precious bottle of Jack. The image of me doing that to him has me swallowing back my groan. I shove the thought into the darkest corner of my mind, hoping it never sees the light of day.
I rise from the couch and follow him into our small kitchen. “We need to talk about last night.”
“I ask for very few things in life. The first is that no one bothers me before my morning tea. And the second is that no one bothers me after my morning tea.”
“Jax…” I warn.
“Fine. There’s not much to say. My head aches to the point of wanting to hurl, so please save your speech for when I feel like I can stand straight without the world spinning.”
“How about I help you. Start with the words ‘I’m sorry, Elena,’ and go from there.”
He eyes me as he star
ts his electric water kettle. “Are you mad because I drank?”
“Yes.” The words come out in a hiss. “What if Liam wasn’t there to help me? What if a random person took a video and posted it online? I’ve spent the better half of this morning scouring the internet to make sure no one reported anything bad about you. You told me you would try to be better, and I want to believe you, but then you do stuff like this, making me question how serious you are about your own career!” My accent grows heavier as I become more frustrated.
His bloodshot eyes slide from the tea kettle to my face. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean to get that pissed?”
“Why are you able to be pissed? You’re the one who kissed me! And got drunk! I should be pissed.”
He shakes his head before wincing. “Pissed means drunk. Jesus, I drank too much.”
“And what about the kiss? You can’t do that anymore.”
“Kiss?” His eyebrows scrunch together.
My heart takes a dive somewhere into my stomach. I didn’t expect him to not remember. For some reason, his amnesia feels like another form of rejection.
Allow me to introduce another layer of fucked up between us.
“Did we kiss?” He says the words in a hoarse whisper. His eyes land on my face before they close.
I stare at him, attempting to keep my cool. It takes everything in me to not go to my room and lick my wounds in private. Some things take precedence, like teaching him a lesson. “Everything that happened last night won’t happen again.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Shit. I’m sorry for kissing you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I’m not talking about that anymore. I’m going to pretend it never happened since you already have.” Okay, I sounded slightly bitter. “I’m talking about you getting drunk and out of control.”
He abandons fixing his tea to give me his undivided attention. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I haven’t drunk like that since the break, and clearly my system didn’t agree.”
My anger returns like a wave, uncontrollable as it sweeps through me. “That apology would suffice if I hadn’t asked you over and over to stop drinking. I thought the suite party was your last hurrah, but clearly I was wrong. I can’t help someone who is hell-bent on ruining their own damn life. And not that you care, but it’s not only your career on the line—it’s mine too. Did you ever take a second to think about how your reputation affects mine? It’s not fair for you to go dragging me down with you because you have a superiority complex and a will to kill off all your functioning brain cells before the age of thirty.”
Jax strides over to me, standing toe to toe. Our proximity reminds me of last night. Of his lips on my skin, kissing me, licking me, nipping me. I suppress a shiver at the memory. I’d rather feel anger than attraction.
He stares into my eyes before he closes his. “I’m honestly sorry I did exactly what I said I would avoid doing. I’m sorry for putting my reputation at risk, therefore risking yours too. Even if I don’t want your help, I don’t want to ruin the effort you’ve put into building your business. And most of all, I’m sorry for kissing you when I was drunk.” He winces.
