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I tuck into the bowl of chips ordered from room service and watchThe Hunger Games; I missed this movie while I was travelling, heard it was good. Beats crappy chick flicks anyway.
My phone beeps, startling me. I rub my eyes and I glance at the TV. Great, I’ve missed half of the movie by dozing off.
I lick salt from my fingers and reach for my phone. A message from Jax.
Cheeky bloody…He needs to look elsewhere for his drunken hook-ups. I ignore him and five minutes later the phone rings with Jax’s name on the screen.
“What?” I snap.
“Did you get my message?”
“The subtle message that you didn’t want to see me when you didn’t contact me earlier?” I retort.
“I did want to see you. I forgot.” Difficult to tell for sure, but I’d lay bets he’s drunk. “I remembered now.”
“It’s 2 a.m., Jax! You’re three hours late!”
“I didn’t notice the time. Something happened.”
“Yeah, like you fell into a taxi with Will and Nate and went out drinking?”
“No. I’m not with them.”
“But you’re drunk.”
“Kinda. Can I see you or not?”
“I’ll speak to you later, Jax.” I hang up. He stands me up, gets drunk, then calls me at 2 a.m. What does he expect?
Heart beating faster with anger at his behaviour, I attempt to remember which scene I last saw in the movie and rewind. As I settle back down to watch, the conversation with Jax niggles. Why do this? We said no games. Well, I’m out. No more.
Barely ten minutes later, somebody knocks on my door. I head over and squint through the peephole. Jax.For fuck’s sake…Do I ignore him?
He knocks again and calls my name. Loudly. I yank the door open and pull my best disdainful face as I look back into the drunk eyes and flushed face of a lost-looking Jax.
“I said no, Jax. Be quiet and go!” In case he attempts to throw his drunken self at me, I cross my arms tightly over my chest. He runs a drunk look along the length of my body and I ready myself for the inevitable comment. “Did the other girls say no? ‘Cause you won’t find a yes from me.”
“What? What girls?” He glances around.
“Goodnight, Jax.” I step back and prepare to shut the door.
“I need to talk to somebody.”
“Talk. Right.” I look around the edge of the door at him. He doesn’t move any closer or attempt to touch me.
“I do! Things have gone to shit, Tegan!”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Please. I need to talk to someone.” His shoulders are slumped as if the world has crashed onto them and, annoyingly, concern creeps in.
“What’s going on?” I ask, more gently
“Ruby Riot. We’re screwed!” He throws his hands in the air, voice rising. “I should make the most of all this because it’s over!”
“Shush! What the hell happened? Did you have a fight with Ruby? Or the boys?”
He mutters something under his breath and wipes a hand down his face. “Can I come in?”
