Chapter 11 Grayce

“So, you and Shawn Pinkman, huh?” Jaxon plopped down next to me on the bleacher seat, wiping the sweat from his face. It was a warm day for fall in Colorado, and I wasn’t enjoying my time sweating outside during football practice, but I knew I had to be there so I could report on it. The players were taking a quick break, and lo and behold Jaxon figured this was a perfect opportunity to harass me about last night. I should have expected it.
“No,” I said.
“I would have never guessed you’d date a dude like him,” Jaxon continued. Damp hair stuck to his forehead from the strenuous workout, and his face was slightly flushed. I tried not to gawk too long at him because the way his arm muscles flexed under his bare skin made goosebumps rise on my arms. I hated that Jaxon Tate had that effect on me.
“And why do you say that?” I looked down at my textbook, pretending to be more interested in that than the conversation at hand. The truth is, I could barely look him in the eye without heating up in inappropriate places.
“I don’t know. He seems like a douche.”
“Coming from King Douchebag, yeah?” I shut my book to look at him. “He’s not a douche. He’s just different.”
“So, you’re dating him?”
“I never said that.”
“I only assumed.”
“You shouldn’t assume.”
“No, probably not.” Jaxon was grinning, pleased with giving me the runaround, I’m sure. He had a beautiful set of pearly whites, and I found myself wondering how many scorned women had ever tried to knock them out of his head. I hated that seeing Jaxon’s face made my day, because it was impossible to look past the fact that there was no way in hell he’d ever go after a girl like me, and I had to be okay with that.
“It’s none of your business, anyway,” I said. I gathered my things and stood up, slipping sunglasses over my eyes.
“Well, that doesn’t seem fair,” Jaxon said. He was still smiling, but he didn’t bother getting up. “You know lots of things about me, but I know nothing about you.”
“This thing, whatever you want to call it, is strictly professional,” I told him. “I have no desire to hear about anything but football, and it’s painful to even hear about that. There’s nothing about me that you need to know.”
“You had drinks with me last night, Harrison, so I guess I thought we were turning a new leaf. You know after you stormed out on me in that interview, anyway.”
“Correction: you had drinks with Amelia last night, and Shawn and I happened to be there. Also, I did not “storm out.” I only suggested you might be better suited with someone else reporting on you.”
“Someone’s testy today,” Jaxon said, following up his comment with a soft tsk-tsk.
“Blow me,” I retorted, and Jaxon laughed.
“I like you more and more every day, Harrison,” he said.
“I’m leaving now.” I started to walk away, but Jaxon called out to me.
“Don’t you need another interview?” he asked. I lifted the shades from my eyes so I could get a good look at him. Was he messing with me? Damn right, I needed another interview, but I didn’t want to seem desperate to pick up where we’d left off. I wasn’t sure if this one would go any smoother than the last one.
“If you’re too busy, I can come back,” I said.
“We’re just getting done. I need to change, though. Want to just come up to my apartment?”
I almost said no just so I could avoid that awkward situation, but I knew it wasn’t a come-on, and I needed more material to write the next article. It was due in three days.
“Fine,” I said. “But all the clothes stay on.”
“No problem, Grayce,” Jaxon said. He jogged over to ask the coach if he could wrap it up. Once he gathered his things from the bench, we walked together towards his apartment. I didn’t have the energy to put in too much effort for small talk, so I kept quiet and followed him. I hoped I could keep composed long enough this time to get enough material for an interview. Preferably without looking like a bumbling idiot.
Jaxon’s apartment was impressively cliché when we walked in, the home of a single guy’s bachelor pad. A few pieces of dirty clothes dotted the furniture here and there, and an empty pizza box sat taking up room on the counter. I stopped and looked around, wondering if all the other girls he ever brought in here felt as intimidated by it as I did. Doubtful. Those girls were too busy ripping their clothes off to notice anything about the apartment, I was sure.
“Go ahead and have a seat,” Jaxon said. He pulled off his sweat-stained tee-shirt and tossed it aside. I looked back just in time to catch a glimpse of his abs—disgustingly smooth, touchable, and still shimmering with sweat. Somehow this made them even more appealing than usual. My first reaction was to reach out and touch them, to run my fingers up and down his stomach, but I resisted the urge, biting my lip to keep my jaw from falling entirely to the floor, annoyed for even noticing his stupid abs in the first place.
“Are you hungry?” Jaxon asked. It took everything I had in me not to make some inappropriate comment like, Yes, I’m hungry. Hungry for you, stud.
“Um,” I said instead. I took a seat on Jaxon’s couch, reaching tentatively for a pair of what I could only assume were a dirty pair of Levis. I picked them up with one finger and flung them away.
“I have cereal,” Jaxon said. He sounded mighty proud of that fact.
“A man of many talents, I see.”
Jaxon pulled his head out from the cupboard to look at me. “Cheerios,” he said with an insanely adorable grin.
“Do you have sugar?” I asked, and he furrowed his brow.
“No.”
“Then, no thanks. I only eat my Cheerios with sugar.” I was kidding, of course, about being interested in having a bowl of cereal, but I think Jaxon figured I was serious because he kept looking through the cupboards as if trying to dig up a bag of sugar for me.
“I have maple syrup,” he offered, withdrawing a sticky bottle of sketchy-looking pancake goo. I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“Do you not grocery shop?”
“Groceries? Only weak men need food.” Jaxon puffed his chest out like a horny peacock. “Who has time for that?” He stuck the bottle of syrup back into the cupboard and came into the living room. Despite the intense workout the team had just endured, he didn’t smell too bad for a sweaty guy. In fact, he smelled freaking … good. Really good. Man good.
Really, Grayce?
I turned away as the thought crossed my mind, praying he hadn’t just caught me inhaling his manly odor. Jaxon sat on the couch next to me, probably because there was nowhere else in the living room to sit. Our thighs and arms were touching, but while this little sensation made my entire body tense up, I don’t think Jaxon even noticed.
“Okay,” I said. “Football.” I pulled the tape recorder and notepad from my backpack. “We’re here to talk about football.”
“Do we have to?” Jaxon asked.
“Yes.” I furrowed my brow at him. “Yes, we do. Because that’s why I’m here.”
“I thought you were here to inhale my manly scent,” Jaxon said with a smirk. I couldn’t turn my head away fast enough before I felt my face erupt into a fiery ball of scarlet. I couldn’t look at him, could only stare at the floor and debate whether I should bolt for the door.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “It’s not you that smells good; it’s the apartment.”
“Of course, it is,” Jaxon agreed. “Dirty laundry and a booze-stained carpet are a favorite with you women.”
I had nothing to say to this, not even if I wanted to. Rather than digging a hole I wouldn’t be able to escape from, I sat back on the couch, tense and humiliated but determined to stick this out. Thankfully, Jaxon didn’t bother to keep up with the jokes. While I was glad for it, I wasn’t sure the silence settling over us was more fitting.
“This is awkward,” I said finally, after a long silence that nearly crushed my soul into a million tiny bits of confusion. “I should probably just go.”
“You don’t have to go,” Jaxon said. “You’re one of the only people I know who is tolerable to be around for longer than ten minutes at a time.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I asked. Jaxon shrugged and rolled his head to the side to look at me.
“If you want it to be.”
“Don’t you have friends you can do this with?”
When Jaxon didn’t answer, I made it a point to look at the time on my phone, hoping that if I gave him enough minutes to work through his abundance of prominent social issues, we’d get somewhere with the interview. Once upon a time, I’d wondered what it would feel like to sit on the couch of a popular jock. It had been a fleeting thought that came and went within three seconds or so, but now that I was there, sitting awkwardly on Jaxon Tate’s couch in silence, it wasn’t exactly what I’d often had in mind. Feeling slightly irritated, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
“Whenever you are confronted with an opponent, conquer him with love,” I muttered. I hadn’t realized I’d said it aloud until I opened my eyes and saw Jaxon look over, eyebrows shooting up.
“Did you just quote Gandhi to me?” he asked.
“Not to you,” I said. “To myself. It helps with my irritation.”
“Am I your opponent?”
“What?”
“The quote, you—”
“I think I’m going to go,” I said finally, cutting him off.
“Where to?” he asked as I got off the couch.
“Anywhere but here,” I replied and gathered my things. “Probably to the bar to drown in booze and forget that this whole thing ever happened.”
“I’m sorry.” Jaxon got to his feet to follow me as I headed towards the front door. “Sometimes it’s nice just to have company that doesn’t want anything from me. All I seem to do anymore is try and please people.”
“Yeah, it must be hard being you.” Part of me wanted to acknowledge what he’d said, but the more significant part wondered if it was true. Could a guy like Jaxon be lonely, or was he full of it? “I can’t imagine how difficult that would be, having women throwing themselves at you daily.” I flung my pack over my shoulder and turned to look at him.
“It really is,” Jaxon said. “I don’t know how I get by daily doted on and loved.”
“I’m sure.” I smiled at him, a bit sarcastically maybe, then raised my hand in a salute. “We’ll try this again when you're not creepy.”
Jaxon grinned, then stepped close to me, catching me off guard. The heat of his body felt intense against my own, and I could smell the aftershave on him, a smell so sexy, so Jaxon, that I almost closed my eyes and let myself kiss him. For a moment, there was no one else in the world but the two of us. I took a step towards him and then another. Jaxon’s hand lifted from his side, and he touched my arm. An innocent gesture that sent shocks of desire through my limbs. I swallowed, and Jaxon came closer.
Fuck, I wanted him.
No, I needed him.
“Grayce,” Jaxon breathed, and the sound of his voice somehow broke the spell I was under. I cleared my throat, blinked once, and backed away.
He’d almost had me.
Almost.
“See ya,” I said, taking a step back.
“That’s not going to happen, you know,” Jaxon called as I walked away. “I will forever and always be just a little bit creepy.”
I put my hand in the air to flash him the peace sign but kept on walking. “Goodnight!”
“What if I don’t want to go to bed yet?” he called back.
“You don’t have to stay home, but you can’t go there,” I said. Before Jaxon could respond, I was out the door and on my way to the bar to see Alex.
It was a beautiful Saturday night, and The Boat House was brimming with people. I ordered a club soda the moment I sat down at the bar. Alex eyed me as I drank, wondering why I probably had a permanent frown line etched into my face.
“You look rattled,” she said a few minutes later, taking a moment to catch her breath and greet me.
“I just had the oddest encounter with Jaxon Tate,” I told her. “I tried to get another interview, but he didn’t want to talk. We just sat on his couch in silence. Then he told me he was lonely. Sarcastically, of course, because Jaxon couldn’t be lonely. Right?”
“Wow, did you guys get to half a base or what?” Alex teased. She shrugged. “Maybe he likes your company.”
“Only you enjoy my company,” I reminded her. “And it’s because you’re a bit of a bitch, so I don’t rattle you.”
“Just a bit of one?” Alex asked. “I prefer Queen Bitch, thank you very much.” She took my empty club soda away and made me a fresh one, this time with alcohol, and slid it in my direction. I took a long swallow, the buzz hitting my head almost immediately. After the weird last few days, it felt good.
“Oh, hey, speak of the Devil,” Alex said a moment later. “This will likely be the best thing I see tonight.”
“Fancy seeing you here, Harrison.”
“Jesus,” I said. “I don’t know if you just can’t tell or if you genuinely don’t care, but I’m a little busy here.” I looked over at Jaxon, who had taken up residence on one of the empty stools to the right of mine. Shockingly, he was still alone and not being trailed by a mob of sweaty jocks and half-naked drill team members trying to unbutton his pants and slip their tongues down his throat.
“Free country,” Jaxon said. He took the beer Alex offered him with a grin.
“Shouldn’t you be doing something else right now?” I asked. “Like, I don’t know, jacking off in your shower?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have to do that if I just had somebody to screw now, would I?” Jaxon said, swaying around in his seat to scope out the bar.
“Whatever happened to that Amelia girl?” I don’t know why I asked because I didn’t much care, but it seemed like the proper bar-style conversation to be having. As much as I wanted to bring up some touchy politics or religious subject just to see what Jaxon had in him, I felt it wasn’t the appropriate place to discuss it.
“One and done,” Jaxon said with a shrug. “Time to move onward.”
“You’re disgusting,” I said.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jaxon said. “Hey, wanna be my wing-woman?”
At first, I thought he was kidding because the mere thought of me being someone’s wing-woman was both comical and just a little bit tragic, especially if it were for someone like Jaxon. I knew there was zero chance of Jaxon ever going after me, but I wasn’t excited about the prospect of helping him get laid, either. If anything, I’d scare off any potential female for him with my eccentricity alone.
“Yeah, right,” I said. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever—”
“Are you scared?” Jaxon asked. I stopped mid-sentence, swinging my head around to look at him. He was giving me that preppy half-smile that made my knees weak, but my hand itched to reach out and slap him all the while.
“I’m not scared,” I said, a bit too forcefully. “What is there to be scared of?”
“Nothing,” Jaxon said. “But that didn’t stop you from tripping over yourself during that last interview.”
“I didn’t trip over … I … You don’t know what you’re . . . you’re stupid, okay?”
“You only live once,” Jaxon said. I reached for my drink and held it up to toast him, taking on the challenge. Jaxon clinked his glass of beer with my shot of vodka and grinned. I turned in my seat so that we were both facing the main bar room, regretting my decision but knowing it was too late to turn back now.
“This might be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made,” I said. “But if I fail, you fail, too, and that has to be worth it.”
“You must not know me very well, Grayce,” Jaxon said, smirking. “Because I don’t fail. Write that down on your little notepad.”
“You are just . . .” I trailed off, unable to conjure up an appropriate word that described my feelings for Jaxon. Everything I had in mind to call him was too filthy for even my mouth.
“I am a lot of things,” Jaxon said, “charming is number one.”
Alex and I exchanged a look over my shoulder. She was smirking. I scanned the crowd of people and spotted a busty brunette sitting by herself in one of the booths. She was sexy in a conventional way; perfectly curled hair, too much makeup, and manicured fingernails that looked like they hadn’t ever seen a hard day’s work. She was perfect for him.
“Watch and learn, Jaxon,” I said. I snagged the beer from his hand, took the last swallow, and handed it back to him. I didn’t know if it was because the alcohol was taking effect or because merely cowering down to Jaxon’s idiotic challenge wasn’t going to fly with me. Still, I walked towards the girl’s table as if I was headed for the bathroom, pretending to trip over her bag on the floor.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry,” the girl said, reaching down to move her bag. “I shouldn’t have put that there.”
“No problem,” I said, brushing it off. “Cute bag, by the way.”
“Oh, you like it?” she asked and made it a point to admire the felt badge sewn into the fabric.
“I like it,” I said. “Sorority, right?”
“Yes!” she said. She looked a bit too surprised that I recognized the symbol and went down a few points in my book just for her peppy assumptions alone. It wasn’t like I could blame her or anything; I sure as hell wasn’t sorority material, but she didn’t have to act that shocked. “Kappa Delta.”
“I don’t know much about it personally,” I said with a shrug and a smile. “It’s my brother. He’s the fraternity guy. He loves being a part of something so noble.” It was difficult not to gag on my words, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. “May I?” I reached for the bag, pretending to be interested in admiring the badge on her Prada purse. I turned to look at Jaxon, waving a bit to catch his attention, although I knew he was already watching us intently. “Hey, bro,” I called. “She’s a Kappa. Come check this out.”
Much to his credit, Jaxon took my story and ran with it, successfully hiding any confusion he may have felt. He approached the table and took the bag from me, eyes landing on the emblem sewn into her purse.
“You must be the brother,” the girl said, and I sincerely hoped that her tongue wouldn’t fall right out of her mouth as she held her hand to him. “It’s so cool to meet someone involved with it as I am.”
“That’s me,” Jaxon agreed. “I’m all about the Delta . . . Pie. Kappa. Yeah, it was life-changing.”
“Right?”
“Excuse me, I’d better run to the bathroom,” I said, slipping away. Neither of them noticed that I was going, and right before I closed the bathroom door behind me, I heard Jaxon ask if he could buy her a drink.
Score one for Grayce.