Jax

I pull my jeans on and button them at the top. Bending over, I pick my white T-shirt up off the unfamiliar floor and yank it over my head, wanting to get out of this room as soon as possible.

“When can I see you again, Jax?” the naked girl lying in bed asks, red hair a knotted mess. A girl whose name I can’t seem to remember.

I hate this part. “I don’t know.” I run a hand through my short brown hair, scratching the back of my head. “I’m, uh, pretty busy.” I’m not, but I don’t sleep with the same chick twice.

I did once, and she became unnecessarily clingy. There’s no way I’m letting that happen again. One and done. That’s the way it’s been for the last two years.

“You know where to find me when you’re free,” she coos, her shrill voice cutting through the air.

I nod my head. “Yeah,” I say, slipping my shoes on as fast as I can. “I’ll see ya later.” I take two giant steps to her bedroom door, needing to escape before she can sink her claws into me.

When I step out of her room, I breathe a sigh of relief. I pace toward the staircase, my eyes connecting with the giant chandelier hanging from the ceiling, visible from the second and first level. I grimace at the gaudy light fixture and the three bold Greek letters hanging above the grand front door. I jog down the stairs, ignoring the feeling of utter dread creeping in my chest, eager to sneak out the front door before anyone spots me.

No such luck.

“Jax, baby,” an unfamiliar voice calls from the balcony of the second floor I’m currently fleeing. Her voice reminds me of someone who is talking to a toddler, squeaky and sugary sweet.

Why do women think their baby voice is a turn-on? It’s not.

I turn my head, refusing to fully turn around, as I move swiftly down the rest of the stairs. Her long blonde hair and tight dress earn her a once-over, my eyes roaming her slender body, but I shake my head, refusing to let my hormones control me—at least while I’m in this house.

Instead of encouraging her, I say, “Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”

She pouts. Literally pouts with her bottom lip jut out and arms across her chest—also not attractive.

Hitting the last step, I rush to the front door, slipping out of the sorority house before anyone else sees me.

I know better than to hook up with a sorority chick. But Lisa? Laura? Whatever the redhead’s name is cornered me, and I can only push away a girl so many times before I crack.

I should feel bad, but I don’t, and I know that makes me a world-class dick. I don’t make promises when I sleep with a girl. They know my reputation around school. I don’t do dates, second hook-ups, or girlfriends.

I didn’t get scorned by a girl, like most people assume. I didn’t have a girlfriend who broke my heart and turned me into a player. I simply don’t have time for relationships, nor do I want to get involved with anyone. I don’t have time to worry about someone else’s feelings when I have to keep my own world turning.

I turn down the street, hunkering down as a gust of wind sweeps through the air, flitting through the thin material of my T-shirt.

Everything I do is to keep the one person I love safe. Okay, getting laid only satisfies me, but every other second I have, I devote to her. I breathe for her, and I’m doing everything in my power to ensure she has the life she merits.

I throw my head back, looking to the morning sky like it can tell me I’m doing right by her. But it offers nothing, so I drop my head, staring out in front of me.

She’s the only girl in my life, and it certainly isn’t anyone who attends this school. It’s easier this way. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

My course load is enough to make anyone crazy. I’m working my ass off to keep my grades up for graduate school. So, even if I wanted a girlfriend, I really, really don’t have time for one.

Ten minutes later, I arrive at the house I share with three other guys, grateful for the short walk since I have a mountain of schoolwork to finish before tomorrow.

Walking through the house is like navigating a minefield. Living with three guys has its perks—low costs, constant parties, and always someone to play video games with. But it also has one major con—guys are disgusting. I’m a neat freak. If anyone were to walk into my room, they would think I had a maid who cleaned it once a week, but I don’t. I like my shit put away, unlike the other guys I live with.

I sneak into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge before I’m stuck in my room for the rest of the day.

“Walk of shame, huh?” Graham asks, coming up behind me, slapping me on the shoulder.

Graham’s just like me. He sleeps around and has no remorse for his actions, but he’s not a dick about it. We’re both up-front. Girls know what they’re getting into with us. They just like to play dumb when we try to leave after the deed is done.

“Is it considered a walk of shame if I have no shame?” I smirk, twisting the cap off the bottle in my hand and taking a drink.

“I suppose not.” He leans against the counter opposite me with a lopsided grin. “Who’d you piss off this time?”

“Some sorority chick,” I say, placing the cap back on the bottle.

“Don’t you know better than that?” He quirks a brow, his brown eyes full of amusement.

The last time I got involved with a sorority girl, she got pissed when I refused to see her again. The bitch keyed my truck and egged our house. She also told every girl she knew that I had an STD. I got tested to prove I was clean, but I still have that damn scratch down the driver’s side of my truck.

I shrug. “I didn’t know until she took me to her house.”

“I’m not cleaning up your mess again, so you’d better hope she doesn’t retaliate.” He chuckles, running a hand over his buzzed light-brown hair.

“It’ll be fine.” I head out of the kitchen and call out, “Later,” over my shoulder.

I pass a couple of guys on the couch, zoned in on ESPN like the newscaster is telling them footballs are raining down from the sky.

Tripping over an empty beer can, I catch myself on the stair banister, coming face-to-face with my dog, Walker. He jumps up in excitement, licking my hands and arms as I stand up straight. He’s a golden retriever and a giant teddy bear.

“Missed you, too, bud.” I scratch the top of his head and pat him on the back. “Let’s take you out.” I grab his leash off the bottom step and hook it onto his black collar.

I let him do his business outside in the front yard, waiting patiently as he finds the perfect spot to pop a squat, and that’s when I see her. A girl runs in front of the house on the sidewalk, not giving me the time of day—or she just happens not to see me lurking.

Her short blonde hair rests at her shoulders, bouncing with each of her strides. I can’t see much else because she’s hiding herself under a baggy sweatshirt that swallows her small frame, but it doesn’t matter because what I notice is the way she holds herself. Confident and discouraged, like something has broken her spirit, but she’s fighting to maintain that she’s strong and she can persevere through whatever threw her a curve ball.

I don’t need to see her figure that’s veiled by her clothes. I can tell she’s beautiful. She runs with a slight smile on her face, like she’s thankful for the world around her. The way she moves down the street has me captivated in a trance, wishing I were one of the people she’s grateful for.

Walker bumps my leg, but I keep my eyes glued on the girl who has my stomach in knots and chest tightening.

I take a step toward her but stop when I realize I have nothing to offer her. But that fact doesn’t stop my heart from beating wildly as her eyes skirt over me before she runs past me.

I watch her disappear, her slender body turning into a small dot until she vanishes all together.

I exhale, my lungs burning, not realizing I was holding my breath the entire time.

Walker barks at my side, yanking my attention away from the spot I last saw the mystery girl and bringing me back down to reality.

Stupid.

When we’re inside, I let Walker off his leash, and I head upstairs, locking myself in my room. I start on my homework, forgetting all about the enigmatic girl who managed to stir something in me I’ve never felt before.

I do my homework as fast as I can, hoping to have time to visit the one girl in my life, but by the time I’m done, the sky is pitch-black, and I know she’s fast asleep.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, getting rid of the crust that formed overnight, as I head to the kitchen. I wish that was a sign of a restful night’s sleep, but it’s not. After I crashed, for most of the night, I tossed and turned, worrying about the girl who stole my heart four years ago.

I bite the inside of my cheek as hard as I can. I worry about her living in her house, defenseless, wondering if I’m doing right by her. My mind reels constantly, praying she’s safe, praying she doesn’t think I abandoned her. I can’t be there for her as much as I want to, but I do the best I can.

If you stopped screwing anything in a skirt, you’d have more time with her.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, needing to focus on anything besides her.

Opening the kitchen cabinet that’s filled to capacity with protein bars and snack cakes, I pull out the lone box of cereal. I unroll the plastic bag inside and pour cereal in my bowl before taking the milk from the fridge.

“Jax, some chick came looking for you,” Trent calls from the front door. He strolls toward me, not having a care in the world.

Trent reminds me of a hippie, laid-back and down for anything as long as he doesn’t have to put in too much work.

I dunk my spoon in the bowl and take a bite. “Who was it?” I ask around the food in my mouth.

“Said her name was Lacy.” He picks up the box of cereal and sticks his hand inside, pulling out a handful of dry cereal and shoveling it in his mouth.

Ah, Lacy. That’s her name.

“What did she want?”

“Probably another round. I told her you had fallen ill and that I would gladly take her for a ride.” He winks.

“I’m going to guess that earned you a slap in the face.”

“Something like that.” He laughs, running a hand through his chin-length dirty-blond hair. “One day, they’ll learn. Hell, how they don’t know that you don’t do repeats is beyond me. You should start picking smarter women.”

Smarter women don’t do one-night stands. The girls I sleep with are willing to get down with anyone. Chicks like Lacy move on to the next guy after a couple of days of being ignored.

The girls with a strong head on their shoulders are the ones who can be broken. They get attached, and their hearts shatter because they become invested in the guy. They want a relationship, not a fling. Like the mystery girl from yesterday. There’s no way she’d settle for anything less than my whole heart—something I don’t have to give.

“Where’s the fun in that?” I joke because I’m not about to explain my reasoning to Trent. I put my empty bowl in the dishwasher and sidestep him. “Have fun with my seconds.”

His laugh booms through me as I make my way out of the house, ruffling Walker’s fur before I leave.

When I step into the crisp fall air outside, I half-expect to see the mystery girl still running in front of the house, but I don’t. I silently scold myself for wanting to see her again.

I shove my hands in the pockets of my jacket and push all thoughts of the mystery girl away.