Page 37 of What Happens In Vegas: Jessa & Jaxon
“Mmm-hmm.” Jasmine’s expression is painfully smug. “That’s why you always complain about his girlfriends. Nobody gets that worked up about other women unless there are feelings involved.”
I roll my eyes. “Dislike is a feeling too, you know.”
“So what did you guys even do for a nine days?” Meesha presses, clearly not ready to drop the subject.
My mind races through the highlights. Jaxon cooking breakfast shirtless, board games by candlelight, his body moving above mine, inside me. I drain my champagne in one gulp.
“Nothing exciting. He helped with my interview prep for the vice principal position and we played board games.” I’m not exactly lying, just omitting the parts where we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
Jasmine narrows her eyes. “You’re being weird.”
“What? No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” Meesha joins in. “You’re doing that thing where you twist your bracelet when you’re holding something back.”
I glance down and find my fingers indeed fidgeting with my silver jewelry. I force my hands to still. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Something happened,” Jasmine declares, studying my face with uncomfortable intensity. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”
The directness of her question catches me off guard. “What? That’s—I wouldn’t—”
“Oh my God, you did!” Meesha practically shrieks. “Jessa Smith, after all your comments about how you can’t stand him! I knew it was sexual tension!”
“It wasn’t like that,” I protest weakly, then realize my mistake.
“So you admit it!” Jasmine looks triumphant, exchanging a high-five with Meesha. “Finally! We’ve been watching you two circle each other for years.”
“No, you haven’t,” I counter, “because there’s been nothing to watch. It was just... a storm thing. Confined spaces, unusual circumstances.”
“And now?” Meesha asks, her excitement dimming slightly at my tone.
I think of how he left without saying goodbye and how he hasn’t reached out despite making it seem like he wanted more. “Now nothing. He called me a liar and left.”
“What happened?” Jasmine’s voice softens, her teasing replaced with genuine concern.
I shrug, aiming for casual despite the unexpected tightness in my throat. “He wanted a relationship, and I told him I was only interested in sex. When I woke up, he was gone.”
“Are you kidding me?” Meesha’s voice rises an octave. “The man finally tells you he wants you, and you shut him down?”
“Jessa, we love you, but you’re being an idiot.”
“Excuse me?” I glare at Jasmine, but she doesn’t care.
“You’ve been half in love with that man since the sixth grade.”
I scoff. “That’s ridicu—”
“Oh, really?” Meesha narrows her eyes. “So you didn’t convince one of his girlfriends to take her old boyfriend back?”
“Estella was still in love with her ex,” I argue. “I was being a matchmaker.”
Meesha snorts. “Girl. You made us eat gas station ice cream in the parking lot on Easter because Jaxon showed up with another woman and you suddenly wanted to start a new tradition.”
My stomach drops. “That had nothing to do with Jaxon.”
Jasmine crosses her arms. “Uh-huh. And it was also a coincidence when you disappeared to that cabin for Christmas right when he started dating that marketing executive?”
I can’t ignore the evidence piling up against me. The way my heart races when he walks into a room, how I practice comebacks in my head before seeing him, the emptiness I felt watching him with that marketing executive.
