I looked over at her suggestive eyes. “What?”
She held my gaze, and I watched as her eyes turned from playful to serious.
“He’s falling in love with you.” I could hear the emotion in her voice. “If he hasn’t already.”
I sat there, stunned by her words.
Falling in love?
I clenched my fists, my heartbeat drumming in my chest. No. He wouldn’t have pushed me away if that were true. He wouldn’t have stayed away. That was what had hurt more than anything these past few days. Jax didn’t care the way I did.
His words came back to me. “I just never thought the real thing would live up to the fantasy.”
I dropped my eyes, my head suddenly too damn heavy to hold up. Jesus.
Tate nearly whispered, “It’s impossible not to love them, isn’t it?” and my resolve cracked. I had to look away, taking deep breaths.
She was talking about the Trent brothers. Her Jared … and my Jaxon.
“I love you,” she said sweetly, probably seeing that I was in pain.
I nodded. “I know.” I looked over at her. “And I don’t know why. How come you’re so good to me?”
She narrowed her eyes, confused.
“Three years ago, I pretended to date your high school bully who is now your boyfriend so I could get even with Liam. For cheating. The first time.” I admitted the whole sordid mess. “Why didn’t you kick my ass?”
She offered a small smile. “Because you took Liam back,” she said. “I knew you were going to need a friend.” Tears sprang into my eyes, and I wanted to hug her.
As she got up, I followed her with my eyes, realizing how much I loved her and how much I wanted to deserve her.
“Tate?” I choked out. “I’m—”
“Oh, good God,” she said, cutting me off, staring wide-eyed out the window.
“What?”
She shook her head, a surprised grin on her face as she looked out the window. “You better come see this.”
I picked up the laptop, leaving it open as I carried it to stand beside her. Looking through the sheer curtains, I sucked in a breath, my arms shaking so bad that the laptop tumbled out of my grasp.
“Shit!” It shot out of my hands. I tried to clutch it as it bobbled against my weak arms and finally collapsed to the floor.
Tate covered her snort with her hand, and I breathed a mile a minute as I dived down to pick it up again.
“Damn it,” I yelled.
The battery pack had come out, and the screen had gone blank. I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. “Damn him,” I growled, trying to fit the battery back in and glancing up out of the window repeatedly.
Jax stood next to his car, parked at the curb just behind Madoc’s GTO, and I kept scaling my eyes up and down his body, trying to take everything in.
Nothing had really changed and yet so much was different about him. Damn …
I licked my lips.
He wore straight-leg black pants. Not skinny but definitely slim, and my eyes widened when he turned around to talk to Madoc and Fallon. I knew what he looked like naked, even though I hadn’t had time to explore, but I hadn’t realized how much his baggy pants had covered up his form. Nice ass. He still wore clothes that fit his style—dark and low on flash—but they fit him better now. Almost too good. You could see how big he really was through his white V-neck T-shirt that draped just loosely enough to be comfortable but tight enough to show off his muscular shoulders, tight chest, and toned back. Hell, I could even see his shoulder blades.
And his hair. I let out a breath, my shoulders slumping a little. His hair was gone. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
He looked more beautiful. Definitely. I hadn’t realized how much the hair took focus from everything else, and now that it was gone, you could see the whole picture. The mouth, the nose, the eyes, everything all together.
And his body, too, looked bigger without it.
But I had also loved his long hair. It was a sign of his defiance.
The hair was now cropped short and styled on the top. He made my mouth water, and I gritted my teeth, knowing just how much other women would be looking at him now, too. As if they hadn’t looked at him enough before.
Jesus.
Watching him, Madoc, and Fallon talk on the front lawn as Jax crossed his arms, pushing out his chest, I brought myself back to reality, and I suddenly didn’t care that the hair was gone. And I didn’t care about his new clothes, either.
So what?
Even if his appearance had changed, it was still Jax. The same one who had kicked me to the curb five days ago.
“Go on.” Tate nudged me. “Get cleaned up.”
Huh?
“What?” I asked, standing tall. “No. Screw him. After the way he acted, it’s going to take more than new clothes and a haircut.”
Tate let out a condescending chuckle and turned to face me. “Juliet, I’m speaking from personal experience, so pay attention.”
She grabbed my shoulders, and I sucked in a breath as she turned my body to face her, running her hands up and down my arms in a maternal manner. “When he comes in here, honey, he’s going to fix his eyes on you and look at you all intense. He’ll look mad,” she pointed out, talking down to me, “but what he’s really contemplating is whether or not to rip off all your clothes, slam you into a wall, and fuck the daylights out of you … from behind.”
My jaw dropped, and I clutched my laptop tighter.
“Then,” she continued, “he’ll corner you somewhere where you least expect it. He’ll lean in close”—Tate stepped up to me so our bodies were touching—“touch his lips to yours without actually kissing you, and you’ll feel how tortured he is simply by the heat on his skin.” She took my face in her hands, getting nose-to-nose, and her voice dropped. “Then, in barely a whisper that will have your thighs quivering, he’ll say, ‘Baby,’ and you will melt without him even having to apologize.”
I gulped, my mouth completely parched.
“Now, Juliet?” Tate hardened her voice. “That aqua and gold miniskirt I bought you in Tokyo? Go get it on. You look like shit.”
“Ugh,” I whispered.
She snatched the laptop out of my hand, slammed it shut, and tossed it on the couch. “He’s coming.”
After that I didn’t hesitate. I darted past her, racing up the stairs two at a time, and crashed through her bedroom door, slamming it shut. Hitting the power on the iPod dock, I dashed into the bath-room as Joan Jett & the Blackhearts started with “I Hate Myself for Loving You.” Music made me work faster.
Whipping off my tank top, I pulled my hair out of my ponytail and hastily applied eyeliner and mascara. Dabbing a little red on my lips—not lip gloss, because Jax hated it—I ran the straightener through my hair, smoothing it over with the brush, and then scurried for Tate’s walk-in closet.
Joan’s guitars kept my blood boiling, and my muscles were pumped. I sang along, suddenly very fucking hungry for pizza.
“ ‘I hate myself for loving you,’ ” I sang, bobbing my head.
I grabbed my long-sleeved, loose black silk top. High collar in the front, but draped low in the back, showing off ample skin.
If I was going to tell him to screw off, at least I wanted to look hot doing it.
I dropped my shorts, and then I unclipped the skirt from the hanger.
The drums vibrated in my chest as I stepped into the miniskirt and slid it up my legs. “ ‘Can’t break free from the things that you do.’ ”
But just then a shadow fell over me.
I gasped, looked up, and jerked the zipper up, staring wide-eyed at Jax.
Shit.
He had both hands pressed against the doorframe, leaning in slightly, and cocking his head at me like a challenge.