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My hands ball into fists at my side, so much rage rushing through my blood, I feel hot to the touch.
When I look at Jay-Jay, my heart breaks all over again. His frown is set in place, his shoulders rounding forward.
He didn’t even ask how his day was.
Jay-Jay shrugs, defeated.
Oh, no.
We didn’t dance our way to exhaustion for that same look to come back.
“Wait here for a sec. I need to speak to your dad.”
Shoulders squared, I storm toward the hallway, determined to get answers and an apology.
I deserve a damn apology.
Jay-Jay deserves a bigger one.
But as I round the corner, I quickly jump back before getting knocked out. The same brick wall I crashed into a moment ago slides toward me. He skids to a stop in the middle of the kitchen—that damn smile that makes my heart stop a permanent fixture on his face.
He points at me and Jay-Jay, winking when he roars over the music. “Gotcha. I can’t believe you had sock races without me.”
I’m going to cry.
Wet suit jacket discarded, his shirt’s top buttons are open, and oh, sweet baby Jesus, the sleeves are up.
My heart swells in my chest. Any anger I felt leaves my body on my next exhale.
Jake’s laughter booms over the music as Jay-Jay runs into his arms, laughing with him.
I’m pretty sure my mouth is still on the floor when he puts Jay-Jay down, spins around, and starts shaking that perfectly sculpted backside of his like nobody’s watching.
Not fair.
He shouldn’t be able to put me through such a rollercoaster of emotions in such a brief space of time.
I think I’ve got whiplash.
Leaning into my hip, I cross my arms over my chest, failing at looking unimpressed.
He can move.
He throws a smirk at me. Like he doesn’t know it makes my stomach flutter.
He needs to be careful with those.
Those smiles are dangerous to such a fragile heart.
He shuffles over to me, my anger dissipating with every step closer, and when the rage finally retreats and leaves my body, I smile so wide my face hurts.
“Not funny.” He swings his hips. Jay-Jay’s knees buckle from laughter. “Careful. You’ll do yourself an injury at your age.” He turns around and wiggles his ass at me again. I hold out my hands, pushing him away. “Oh, God. Stop. My eyes. They’re burning.”
But I’m laughing so much now that my stomach is tightening.
He turns serious when he spins back around, taking my hands and dragging me into the center of the kitchen. “Come on. You started this.”
God damn it, heart, get back in my chest.
