Page 41 of Just Friends
“Well … whatever,” I said. “We obviously don’t get it, I guess.”
“Nope. We don’t,” Katerina said with a giggle. “Anyway, we should get going.” She patted Reavo’s butt. “I need to take my brute home.”
During our goodbyes, Katerina pulled me aside for a quick word in private. “Those boys of ours. Can you believe them?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been friends with Jax for years, and I’mstillamazed at the things he and his buddies say and do.”
“Tell me about it! I can’t believe my sweet Derek is capable of doing something like that to his friend.”
Mimicking their macho bravado, I puffed up my chest and shoulders and said, “You just don’t understand, Katerina. There’s acodein hockey, and it has to be respected.”
She let out a gleeful laugh. “Ugh! You do that voice perfectly. I hate it!”
I laughed. “That’s because I’ve heard it so much.”
“You know, Piper—in times like these, I begin to understand why you stay friends with Jax.”
“See? I’m not so crazy after all.”
We hugged and said our byes one last time and the Reaves family left.
I sat next to Jax on the couch. “Can I get you anything?” I asked, holding the ice bag against his cheekbone once more.
“Nope. I’m good.” He looked at me and smiled. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
“Anytime.” The sight of his bruised face put a flutter in my stomach. “Euch,” I said, looking away.
“Do I really look that bad?”
“It’s pretty bad, Jax.” I sighed. There was no way we could do our interview tonight with him looking like that. “I guess I should cancel the live-stream. Too bad, but oh well.” I reached for my laptop, but he grabbed my arm and stopped me.
“No,” he said. “Don’t do that.”
I looked at him like he was crazy. “What do you mean, no?”
“We can still do it tonight. I don’t mind.”
“Jax,nowoman is going to want to date you when you look like that.”
“Wrong. Chicks dig scars.”
“Scars are sexy, yes,” I said. “But you’ve got stitches and bruises and lumps,nota sexy scar.”
“Ah, hell. The girls still love it.”
I snickered. “No, trust me, we don’t.”
“Yeah, you do. Here, I’ll prove it to you.” He puckered his lips—swollen, stitched up, and bloodied—and smooched at the air. “Gimme a kiss.”
“Gross! Don’t even get near me with that mouth.”
“C’mon, Pipes.” Slowly, he started to come after me, kissing at the air and terrorizing me with those awful lips. “Kiss me.”
“No—never! Oh my God, get away from me!”
I bowled over backwards, curled into a defensive ball, and kept his big body at bay with a flurry of kicks to his stomach.
Undeterred, he advanced closer and closer, puffy lips eternally smooching. “Mwah. Mwah. Mwah.”
