Page 103 of Cherish

We all look at him like he needs glasses. “Are you kidding? He’s right there.” I point Jaxon’s mini-me out.

“In the jeans and white T-shirt? The hair’s wrong, but I like the leather jacket.” He nods to himself. “Yeah, okay, I can get behind that kid.”

“That’s supposed to be me, you tosser,” Hudson tells him with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re the one in all black, Jaxon,” Macy supplies helpfully.

“The one in all— No way!” He looks completely flummoxed. “That isnotme.”

“Really?” Heather looks him up and down, making a point of lingering on his tight black T-shirt and black jeans. “Who else could it be?”

“I don’t know. Macy? I mean, look at the hair.”

“Exactly,” Flint teases. “Look at the hair.”

“My hair does not look like that,” Macy tells him.

Jaxon seems furious. “Well, neither does mine! Obviously.” He runs a hand through his longish wavy hair as if to prove the point.

But that only makes it messier—and makes it more closely resemble the hair in question on the tween. Which is a woman’s wig with floppy black hair that was obviously much longer before someone—an amateur, by the looks of things—took a scissors to it and tried to create Jaxon’s signature shaggy cut.

“Dude, your hair looks just like that,” Eden tells him. “They’ve even got the whole covering-your-eyes vibe going.”

“I just hope they don’t trip,” Macy worries.

Flint shrugs. “Jaxon manages not to trip.”

“Because my hair doesn’t look like that!” Jaxon snaps, outraged. “Do you know how much I spend on this haircut?”

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Hudson teases.

“I don’t know.” Eden looks between the kid and Jaxon. “They’re either a hair-styling savant or you’re being ripped off. Because, dude. The hair is exactly the same.”

“And so are the pants,” Macy comments helpfully.

Jaxon narrows his eyes at her. “The pants? Seriously? Theirs have sequins on them. I have never worn a sequin in my life.”

“Yeah, but do you know anyone else in the group who wears pants that tight?” Heather asks him.

“They have sequins on them! And they’re flares!” he roars, pointing at the hemline.

“I see absolutely no difference.” Hudson pokes the already pissed-off vampire just because he can. “What do you think, Grace?”

“I mean, they do look tight enough to cut off circulation, which is a signature part of Jaxon’s look. Besides, does anyone here know what flares are?” I ask the group.

Everyone shakes their heads.

“Not a clue,” Hudson adds.

Eden looks confused. “Do you mean the gun thing that shoots off the little light when you’re in trouble?”

“We rest our case,” I tell Jaxon with a small shrug.

“You know what? Fuck all of you,” he growls. “I don’t look like that.”

Tween Jaxon chooses that moment to race up to the tween Flint and pretend to bite his neck. At which point all of us—sans Jaxon—crack up.

“Well,” Hudson says when he finally stops laughing. “It doesn’t get much more obvious than that.”

---