Chapter 13 Grayce

“I don’t know the deal with you and Jaxon Tate, but it’s weird.” The following day, Alex sipped her coffee at the dining table as she half-heartedly picked at a blueberry muffin. We were both in our pajamas, but as usual, Alex looked better than I did as if she was doing a magazine cover. You’d think that in the three years living with such beauty might take a toll on my self-esteem, but my self-esteem couldn't drop lower than it already was, so we were good.
“What do you mean?” I said. “There is no deal.”
“You guys seem to be spending a lot of time together,” Alex said. “And it doesn’t seem to be all about football, either.”
“That’s because football blows,” I said. “Besides, it’s not my fault Jaxon refuses to give me my interview when I need it.”
“One minute you couldn’t stand the guy and wanted off the report, and the next minute he’s showing up at the bar, and you’re his wing-woman,” Alex said.
“That’s all on him. He’s stalking me.” I took a bite of Alex’s untouched muffin, chewing thoughtfully. “He’s not as bad as I thought, okay? He’s, well, I don’t know. He’s okay.” I thought back to the moment at the restaurant when he’d commented on the political issue I’d been trying to bring up to Shawn. I couldn’t make up my mind about Jaxon; one second, he was the stereotypical jock who teased me in high school and pretended to have the IQ of a slug, and the next second he was engaging with me in an intellectual conversation about the world when no one else would.
“While I think it’s lovely that you have someone to socialize with who isn’t Shawn or me, I want you to be careful,” Alex said. “You know, get in and get out. Jaxon Tate is a notorious player at our school, and I don’t want him breaking your heart.”
“To break someone’s heart, don’t they have to be together?” I asked. When Alex didn’t answer, I continued, “I appreciate you’re worried, but nothing is happening between Jaxon and me. I am not attracted to him, and he clearly feels the same way. We’re not even friends. I’ve only ever met him a handful of times, Alex.”
“You can’t say you’re not attracted to him,” Alex said. “Everyone with human DNA and two working eyes are attracted to the jerk.”
I thought of Jaxon’s abs, the twitching muscles in his arms, and how his jaw got tense whenever he was thinking hard about something. And that smirk, that adorable, self-assured little smirk that made women drop their panties and beg for his attention.
“So, he’s cute.” I turned away so she wouldn’t catch me drooling into my mug of coffee. Mmmm, a drool-laden mocha. “But lots of people are cute. It doesn’t mean I want to be with him.”
“Yeah, I know, I just … ” Alex hesitated. “I don’t know. Just be careful.”
“Speaking of, I need to get ready to go. I still need to drop by his apartment for another pregame interview.”
“Homecoming is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Alex asked.
“I think so.”
“Are you going?”
“I have to,” I said with a sigh. “Wanna come?”
“Football isn’t my forte,” Alex said. She hesitated for a moment as if trying to decide between the prospect of an untimely death or a slow and excruciating torture fest. “But I guess it’s better than sitting at home alone,” she continued with a long sigh. “I’m in.”
After getting dressed and gathering my things, I walked to campus to see if I could get a quick interview with Jaxon before the game tomorrow. The homecoming game would be enormous; I knew that already. Most of the school would be in support, dressed in the school’s colors, with faces painted and signs holding up egging our team on while shouting profanities at the opposing players simultaneously. College girls would be dressed scantily in short shorts and tank tops despite the chilly weather, and the guys would be swinging around plastic mugs of cheap beer and sizing each other up drunkenly.
While I had only ever attended one or two football games in my life, I was almost excited to watch this one. I didn’t know who we were playing yet, but I was expecting they would get their asses handed to them so long as Jaxon was playing. The prospect of watching the game was more exciting because, if anything, I knew the quarterback and could cheer someone on instead of being left in the dark.
After arriving at Jaxon’s apartment, I knocked lightly, hoping he was awake. I couldn’t leave without a Q&A, or Gavin would have my head, so I knocked louder and prayed he was home. After three minutes of no answer from inside, I tried the handle, just for the hell of it. It was unlocked. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was too weird just to walk in, but then I remembered how annoying he’d been at the bar last night, and I didn’t care anymore. I shrugged to myself and poked my head in. Jaxon’s bedroom door was closed, so I assumed he was still lying in bed, sound asleep and probably snoring.
“Jaxon,” I sang and crossed the living room. I knocked on his bedroom door, hoping he’d hear me and I wouldn’t have to bombard him, which I was more than ready and willing to do. “Jaxon?” There was no answer. I considered turning around and leaving, but I couldn’t. Not yet. I had work to do, and I didn’t intend to leave without getting what I needed.
“Tate,” I hissed and opened his bedroom door.
The first thing I spotted was a naked woman. The girl from the bar had dark hair, and her eyes fluttered open right as I appeared. She shrieked, sounding like a startled animal. Jaxon was asleep next to her, and when she cried out, he bolted upright, eyes landing on me. He, too, was spectacularly naked.
“What is your sister doing here?!” the naked girl screeched. Her tone reached a decibel that I assumed only dogs could hear.
“Jesus, Tate, can you put some friggin’ pants on?” I slapped my hand over my eyes as the dark-haired girl in his bed flushed and yanked the blanket up to her chin.
“Learn to knock, Grayce,” Jaxon said, but he was laughing.
“I did knock,” I insisted. “I knocked for like fifteen minutes.” I made it a point to turn away so the girl in his bed could get up and put on some clothes without me staring her down. The right thing to do would have been to leave, but in my moment of disbelief, I couldn’t seem to get my legs to respond to my brain.
“Call me,” she said to Jaxon as she gathered her purse and rushed for the door. She glanced at me as she passed, her face burning red with shame. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to be embarrassed because I was embarrassed enough for all three of us, but I couldn’t seem to speak. As soon as she shut the door behind her, I turned back to face Jaxon, only to find that he was now standing at the foot of the bed with no pants on. In fact, his bottom half wasn’t covered by anything at all.
“Fuck me.” I nearly keeled over. I slapped both hands over my eyes and swung back around to bolt, smacking blindly into the wall. Pain shot through every muscle in my body, and I nearly fell to the floor.
“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” Jaxon said as he reached for some pants. He didn’t seem surprised that I’d almost knocked myself out against his bedroom wall, but given how gracefully I’d conducted our last interview, I can’t imagine he’d been expecting anything more from me.
“You’re a pig,” I snapped and stalked out of the bedroom. I went to the fridge for a beer, not caring that it was only eleven or wasn’t even my house. After seeing Jaxon naked, I figured alcohol was the better route to go instead of scratching out my own eyes as I’d briefly considered doing. Not that there had been anything wrong with Jaxon’s stark-ass naked physique—that was precisely the problem.
After a minute, Jaxon joined me in his kitchen, fully dressed but still smirking. He was pleased with himself, per usual, and not for the first time since I’d known this guy, I wanted to backhand him.
“So, what’s up?” he asked, popping the top off his beer. I could barely look at him without envisioning him naked, and a stupid tingling sensation between my legs didn’t ease when he spoke. I cleared my throat and looked away from him.
“I told you last night that I had to come today and interview you before the big game tomorrow,” I said.
“That’s right,” Jaxon said with a nod. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“Clearly.”
“If you’re failing to remember, you’re the one who hooked me up with her,” Jaxon said. “Keep that in mind while you’re silently judging me.”
“Oh, trust me, I have no intention of judging you, Tate. At least, not silently.” I smiled and tipped my beer at him. “Are you ready for the game?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“It’s homecoming. Kind of a big deal.” I followed Jaxon to the living room and sat on his couch. I hadn’t decided yet about Jaxon Tate, but I was trying harder not to hate him as vehemently as I once had.
“Yeah, homecoming,” Jaxon repeated. He seemed less than thrilled. “I’m sorry you’re stuck reporting on football. I know you’re not a fan.”
I was surprised he acknowledged that fact but pleased he understood how little I cared about the sport. I wanted to tell him he was the only reason any of it was in the least bit interesting, but I feared he’d take it the wrong way. Jaxon and I weren’t friends, and we probably never would be. Once the semester was over, we would return to the strangers we always had been.
“Hey, listen,” Jaxon said. He finished his beer and shrugged, primarily to himself, I think, because he was having a tough time looking at me. “I’m having an after-game party tomorrow night here. You should come.”
“Oh yeah? And, what, stand around with your blonde bimbos while chatting about hair extensions and fake manicures?” I started to laugh but then remembered it was entirely accurate, and there was nothing funny about it.
“Hey,” Jaxon said, offended. “They’re not all blonde.”
“It doesn’t sound like my kind of scene,” I admitted. I resisted the urge to tell him that none of this was my “scene” because I was as weird and unpopular as someone could get, and he would do well not to hang around me longer than needed.
“Maybe it’s time to change your scene,” Jaxon said.
“But I like being socially hindered.”
“I know you do,” Jaxon said tenderly. He patted my hand. “But I think it’s time you experienced real life.”
“Will there be booze?” I asked hopefully.
“Unlimited. But if you get drunk again and puke somewhere in my house, I’ll probably have to put you out in the hallway for the night.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to resist the urge to drink until I can’t see you clearly anymore, huh?” I teased.
Jaxon looked over at me, grinning, the dimple in his left cheek appearing. We stared at each other for a moment, not speaking, just watching, until finally, I looked away.
“I better go,” I said and stood up quickly. I headed for the door, tripping only once over what I could assume were a dirty pair of boxers in the middle of the floor. Luckily for us, I stayed on my feet and made it to the door in one piece.
“I thought you wanted to do an interview,” Jaxon said. He’d already gotten up and stood by the kitchen entrance, looking like a puppy dog I’d just smacked on the nose with a newspaper.
“No need,” I said and stepped out into the hallway. I felt breathless, like my heart was hammering away in my chest just quickly enough I couldn’t breathe right. “I’ll just come to the game and report on it. It’s fine. No problem.”
“Okay,” Jaxon said doubtfully. He leaned against the door frame, folded his arms, and watched me go. I could feel his eyes on my back, curious, wondering what in the hell had just happened. I know that’s what I was wondering. “See you tomorrow?” he called, and I turned around to shrug at him.
“I guess that all depends on if you win or lose,” I said.