Chapter Two
Marty
The dancer pushed a large door open that lead into a dimly lit room. Low lights were focused on plush, violet chairs, and for some reason, I thought the room was a bit cold. My fingertips were feeling numb and my legs began to wobble, and I could’ve sworn my knees gave out from underneath me just before I sat down onto the chair.
I didn’t know what to expect. As my mind focused on the cocky grin Jax had painted across his face while he’d been writhing around in nothing but a scrap of spandex, the only thing I could think of was the fact that my parents were right.
Jax had been going nowhere in high school, and he didn’t seem to be going anywhere now.
I bounced my legs up and down while I sat with my back straight, and when I heard a door pound open to my right, I knew exactly who had walked through it.
Jax always did enjoy making an entrance.
I watched his solid form slowly appear under the dim lighting of the room and I could feel my breaths turn to pants. Sure, Jax had been good-looking in high school: sun-kissed skin, mahogany eyes that twinkled with untold adventures, the stereotypical leather jacket that he thought made him look so cool.
Jesus, I thought it was cool. I thought all of him was cool: the cigarette hanging from his thick bottom lip, the gravelly voice he groaned into my ear whenever his palm grazed my breast. He was always a little too hard with his touch, and yet I couldn’t get enough of it. I willingly gave him my virginity in high school before—
“Marty.”
His voice took me by surprise and ripped me from my thoughts. My eyes connected with his before he slowly peeled the robe off his body, and I had to clench my muscles to keep from visibly trembling in the chair.
God, this room is cold, I thought. Surely, his pride and joy filling that banana hammock will be shriveling to the size of a raisin in about two seconds.
But he slowly sauntered towards me before he began to circle his hips, and when my gaze helplessly dropped to where his yellow fabric drew me, I realized the room was not actually cold at all.
I was just that nervous.
Music had begun to sound from above us, and when I whipped my head up to try and find the speaker, Jax swooped in and took the opportunity to run his cheek lightly against mine.
His washboard abs pulsated a warmth I hadn’t felt since my senior year. His breath was hot on my neck and I could feel the tiny hairs on my arms stand on end. His skin was so close to mine, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why I had given myself to him in high school.
Why I had fallen in love with the mysterious Jax Weatherspoon.
“How’s your evening going?” I heard Jax ask.
But all I could do was swallow hard and try to avoid his gaze.
Everywhere my eyes went, there he was. When I darted my eyes to the left, he rolled his body into my view. When I tilted my gaze upwards, he straddled my lap and bent his strong, tanned torso completely over me before he smiled that impish little grin of his.
God, he was infuriating.
“So, who’s getting married?” he tried again.
I was determined to keep my mouth shut. High school was ages ago, and buckets with lids had lids for a reason. But he could see that I wasn’t about to budge, so in true Jax form, he decided to kick it up a notch.
And that’s when I felt his hand curl around mine.
I whipped my head down, trying to pull my grasp from his. If this place was anything like most clubs, no touching was allowed, but soon I heard the music above us shift before his thumb started tracing light circles on the top of my hand.
He always did that, back in high school.
He’d swirl his thumb on top of my hand if I was getting worked up over something, like a grade or something stupid my parents wanted me to do.
I felt him tug on my arm before I watched him take a step back. My arm was outstretched but my body wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t fall prey to this…this game he was playing. I was here for my best friend’s bachelorette party, not to rehash the past with my long-lost high school flame.
But my legs finally betrayed my screaming mind and I found myself standing up before he led me away from the chair.
He turned back around and pulled me into his body, and it wasn’t until he slipped his free hand around my waist that I realized what he was doing. He planted his hand against my lower back and pressed me into his bare skin, and even though my mind continued to scream at my soul, my body relented to something buried deep within me.
Something that hadn’t been released since high school.
“Are you gonna say anything?” he asked.
“No,” I breathed.
“But you just did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“And yet, there it is again.”
I could hear the smile in his voice, like he had somehow won a game I didn’t realize was being played. I could feel his hips lightly gyrating into mine, as if his dancing hadn’t quite made it out of his system yet, and I found myself slowly trying to part my body from his.
But every time I moved back, he scooted forward, and a part of me was elated that he did.
“You look good, Em,” he said lowly.
My hands were trembling against him and my legs were faltering in their strength, and I knew I had to think of a reason in order to get back to the girls, because surely, this club was about to close itself down.
I mean, it felt like I’d been in there for hours!
I heard him chuckle before he started shaking his head and it caused me to whip my gaze up to him.
“What?” I asked.
“Still stubborn as ever, I see,” he grinned.
“I was never the stubborn one,” I murmured.
“And you suppose I was.”
“Wasn’t that your persona or something? Some hot-shot bad-boy with no emotions and a big dick?”
I spat that last statement a bit more than I should have, and it caused Jax to fall silent.
I felt bad. I knew it wasn’t his fault we broke up. I knew it wasn’t his fault I fell in love with the wrong guy. It wasn’t his job to change, it was just my job to choose better than I had.
I found my strength and pulled away from his grasp, and my eyes grazed over his chiseled arms and pecs that glistened in the dimly-lit room before I drew in a long breath through my nose.
“You look good, too, Jax,” I breathed. “Much different from high school.”
“Jesus, I hope so,” he chuckled.
I may have been a music producer, but my favorite thing to do with artists was to analyze them. I liked spending days with them, just talking, figuring out their secrets and digging into their places of vulnerability so I could find the perfect song that would communicate feelings they could already relate to. Until artists learned how to tailor their emotions to songs, I had to find songs that already fit them.
And that always took time because people weren’t always willing to let you in.
I don’t know that Jax had ever let me in.
“How’s, um… h-how’s your mom?” I stammered. I finally had the courage to bring my gaze to his, and I felt as if I’d caught the tail end of a flare behind his eyes. It was premature, like maybe he was shocked at the question I asked.
So, I decided to merely stand and wait for his answer.
“She’s getting along,” he replied. “And, uh… how are your parents?”
The edge in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, and I couldn’t blame him. High school was a tough time for him: his dad got sick and his mom had to work two jobs to pick up the slack. When he could, he’d do yard work and some other things around the neighborhood for money to help, but watching his dad waste away was difficult for all of us.
Jax had always been rough around the edges, but he didn’t get it from his father. Mr. Weatherspoon had been warm and welcoming, and I could remember the first time he ever smiled at me like it was yesterday.
I walked home with Jax one day after school because I didn’t want to go home. My parents and I had gotten into a fight about me dating “a guy like Jax,” and he told me just to come on over. His father had a full-faced smile that stretched from ear-to-ear when we walked up to the porch, and he welcomed me with open arms before he ushered us in.
I remember crying with Jax when he told me his dad been diagnosed with cancer.
I spent a lot of time at Jax’s house when his dad took a turn for the worse and my parents didn’t like that. They tried to ground me so I couldn’t leave the house, but all I did was walk home with Jax and shut off my cell phone. Some days, I would stay over there and help take care of his dad.
But my parents found out where he lived, because one day, they came knocking.
They told me how much of a disappointment I had become and how Jax was leading me down the wrong path. They were convinced I was smoking with him and that I was staying over because we were having sex, and Jax was trying to defend me while his mother tried to calm them down.
And all I could do was scream at them, telling them that his dad was sick and I wanted to help.
My father yanked me out of the house by the arm that day and Jax tried to jump to my aid, but my mom whipped around and said something to him that, to this day, I’ve never forgiven her for.
“My daughter is destined for better.”
Like we were somehow above his family.
“They’re…uh…good, I guess,” I breathed. I didn’t realize tears had sprung to my eyes until I blinked and felt one fall to my cheek; I quickly brushed it off my skin before I smoothed my hands over my shirt.
“Thanks for the dance,” I choked out.
“How long are you in town?” Jax murmured.
“Just, uh…until the wedding’s over next week.”
I felt my blood run cold as I slowly panned my eyes back up to his gaze. I watched him reach for his robe and pull out another one of his cards, only this time he flipped it over. It had something scrawled on the back, a few numbers with his name underneath.
“Well, maybe we could go out to eat sometime and catch up,” he said.
I watched his tall, broad form retreat back to the door he came barreling through a few minutes ago, but before he stepped into the darkness of whatever that door held, he paused, turned his head and glanced back at me.
“You really do look great, Em.”
I had to sit and catch my breath for a minute before I headed out to find the girls.