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***
I sigh in contentment. I’ve had such a good day with the guys, the moment in the car aside. I’m looking forward to tomorrow. I finally decided on gifts for them all yesterday and was delighted to come home to find everything had been delivered. Thank god for rush delivery. I snuck all my parcels up to my room and wrapped them. I’ll put them under the tree in the morning because I don’t trust the guys not to peek. Once we got home from brunch, everyone disappears to their rooms so I think we might all have had the same idea. I have a quick power nap and feel much better for it after.
In the late afternoon, Thorn knocks gently on my door and wakes me with a cold glass of orange juice. He invites me downstairs to watch Christmas movies with the guys, and I’m happy to join them. I can’t say that I’m hungry after the massive brunch we consumed, but when I entered the lounge to see a selection of hot and cold home-cooked tapas dishes laid out, I’m more than eager to dig in.
“What are we watching?” I ask between mouthfuls.
“Die Hard,” four voices reply at once.
I groan. “That’s not a Christmas film,” I complain. I don’t mind really, it’s a good film. But it doesn’t fill me with Christmassy warm and fuzzies.
“It’s set at Christmas time; therefore, it is a Christmas film,” Thorn tells me.
“By that logic, so’s Harry Potter, because they always have a Christmas scene in them.”
“Not arguing with you there.” He shrugs.
“Fine. Well, I want a Harry Potter marathon then.” I’m not really being a brat, but I love seeing how far I can push these guys to get my own way.
“Ah Princess,” Thorn twinkles at me, “what do you think Boxing Day’s for?” With that, he hits play on the movie, and I settle back to watch, curling up to Thorn and snuggling in. I sneak a peek over at Ace, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Good. Out of everyone, I think I’ve missed Thorn the most. Rebel makes me too mad, and Jax is just being weird today. But I don’t dwell on that as I get sucked into Los Angeles.
Later, only the dying embers of the fire light the room. Rebel turned everything off over an hour ago when we agreed we’d all go to bed. But here we are, Jax and I, still not having moving from the floor in front of the sofa. We’re sat facing one another, close enough that we could be touching, but we aren’t. There’s a tension sizzling in the air, and I feel like if we were to touch, it would snap, and there would be no going back. We’ve been talking for ages and Jax has just asked me what exactly is it that I want, what’s actually going on here. It’s evident that I have an ulterior motive for staying up so late, for keeping him down here, and he wants to know what I’m playing at.
I hate that about him; that he sees through my bullshit and calls me out on it. He’s always watching, assessing, staring. Looking a little too closely for my liking, seeing a lot more than I’m willing to give. He’s the one I need to be most careful around. He’s the one that makes me nervous.
I take a swig of my drink, enjoying the burn of the alcohol as it slides down my throat. “Well,” I shrug, “I was going to suggest playing truth or dare?”
“Why?” He looks weary, suspicious. He rubs his hand over his stubble and shifts uncomfortably, where he sits on the floor.
“I thought it might be fun.” I try for nonchalance, but even I can tell it’s a weak attempt at best.
“I won’t play that with you,” he informs me with a dark tone.
“Why not?” His refusal makes me want to bait him, the way I would with Rebel, but I know that won’t work with Jax. He doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to.
“Because it’s juvenile. It’s not fun. And it’s for people with an ulterior motive. So what’s yours?” I shrug, refusing to go there. “I’m not going to embarrass or humiliate you with trivial tasks... why would I want to? Anything I may want from you, I’m perfectly confident enough to take without the premise of it being a dare, and I’ll honestly answer any question you want to ask me. So why do we need games?”
“How do I know you won’t lie to me?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” he counters
“How would I know? If I ask you a question, it's because I don’t know the answer. If you lie, I’m none the wiser. If I ask you a question I do know the answer to, to test you to see if you’re lying, well then that makes me as bad as you, and I probably deserve to be lied to.” Okay, even I realise I’m getting off track here. What am I doing?
“Ask me what you’re dying to ask, Raven. You always insist on no bullshit, well I’m adding my own rule to that: No games.” His tone is firm, and I know he means what he’s saying; if I don’t get to the point soon, he’s going to leave. But the thing is, I have so much I want to ask him that I don’t know where to start.
“Are you dating one of the princesses?”
He shakes his head no, and I feel relieved.
“Have you dated them in the past?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t look pleased with my line of questioning.
“Did you sleep with any of them?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t sound sorry.
“What happened when you broke up?”
