Page 40 of Study Games

That gave me pause for half a second and I laughed, breaking out of the song stuck on repeat in my head. I had my study done by the time the sun began to set. Placing my pencil carefully on my desk, I stared at my hands, realizing they wouldn't cramp tonight.

For the first time in so long I had nothing to fill my spare hours with. Spare. Hours. What a concept. I was free. I could sleep. I could go out, even had fifteen dollars in my purse that I could use to eat something that wasn’t noodles.

For the first time in months I had no idea what to do with myself. I flipped my phone over, eager to talk to Celia and Jax, all too ready to send another message off.

Busy? I’m not, thanks to you…

No, it didn’t sound right. I erased the words and replaced it with a heart emoji.

Thank you for this morning.

I mulled over that for a little while and then sent the message anyway, and then I spiraled in free fall.

Nothing came back.

So I spiraled some more, tapping my finger on my phone. Getting changed was a no brainer–back into the same silky short set I wore with Jax the night before. Just last night? To quote Celia…wow.

I blew my cheeks up, and flicked through my books after I changed, bored. A new feeling, and one I hated. Being busy meant being productive. This one....

Leaning back on my bed, I pulled up the real version of Xoan Kennedy's Lullaby and flicked through the pictures Celia had taken of the painting and Jax kissing me earlier.

The reel finished with the one of us staring at each other, me with my head tipped back, him looking down at me with hooded eyes in a way that still stole my breath.

Sinking back on my bed I remembered, sliding my hand between my legs beneath the silky shorts Jax painted me wearing.

My breath came shorter with each touch, less illicit and more yearning, needing him. I flipped my phone over with my free hand, sliding my fingers through slicked flesh but he still hasn't replied to my earlier messages.

Groaning, I dropped my head back onto my pillow and ripped an orgasm from my needy flesh like I imagined he would, leaving myself hot and sweating and completely unsatisfied.

I needed Jax. I wanted him.

I wished he’d stayed last night so I could wake up next to him this morning and tell him I’d fallen for the bad boy just like I shouldn’t have.

Instead, I lay there panting, alone, and ached.

14

JAX

Vincent’s house was a small suburban affair pretty much the opposite of anything about his sister. The white painted cottage with its neat blue shutters and mown grass lacked everything. Like reality. Life.

Bees.

I hadn't seen Waverly since she walked away from me in the courtyard after I painted her and kissed her in front of everyone, but she was never far from the edges of my mind. Crush’s giant friend, his goalie on the Rippton Hails ice hockey team, Cooper Urchin I recognized now the shitty moonshine had worn off, scanned me with a shit-eating grin.

He’d been there when the baby doc had finished sticthing me up, pumped me full of drugs I didn’t agree to that knocked me into a haze I fucking hated when O needed all hands on deck for my girl and then lied through his fucking teeth and proclaimed me to be fine.

The tang of old blood was still etched beneath my tongue, but that could've been from the twins’ beating. Who the fuck knew.

I flipped my phone over in my pocket and burrowed into my borrowed hoodie that fell over me like an oversized piece a kid stole from his dad’s closet. Only my dad never owned a hoodie, and I never once tried to borrow his clothes or be like him.

Plucking at the too-long sleeves reminded me of Waverly stuck in my leather jacket. Fuck, I missed that damn jacket, itchiness and all. I laid off once Crush planted an elbow into my ribs. Mind, I was too so to care otherwise. Maybe he had the same memories as me.

Cooper leaned back against Crush’s sports coupe as I played with my phone and ran over my strategy in my head. Not that I had much of one. Walk up to the door, introduce myself and try not to sucker punch the fucker of a shitty brother in the face.

Hell, he was ex-military in the least. The dude was going to have at least a head of height and a hundred and fifty pounds of muscle on me. Two hundred bucks said he’d beat me to a pulp faster than the twins, and that was before the Allstars contingent of this shit-show joyride placed their own bets.

He probably had special ops training, too.

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