Page 44 of Fine, Dork

We both lied there, on the floor, in the dark, hearts racing. Jaxon linked his pinky through mine and whispered again, “I love you.”

I reached over and gently ran my fingers down his arm and felt the two-inch scar on his left bicep. I knew it came from the time he fought with his brother almost ten years ago. Tyson shoved him into a door, and the metal door-knob latch sliced Jaxon’s arm open. The wound required stitches, and I still remembered rushing over to visit J as soon as he returned from the hospital.

I spent the afternoon curled up next to him on his bed, watching shows on his laptop. Halfway through the second episode of Dr. Who, I peeled back the bandage on his arm to see his stitches and was surprised at how much it hurt me to see him in pain. I felt an ache in my dumb fifteen-year-old heart but had no idea what it meant.

What if I hadn’t been so stupid? What if I’d realized I loved J way back then? Would our lives look different? Would we already have our perfect little world together, or would dumb mistakes have shattered our love before we reached our happily ever after? In the end, it didn’t matter. I had him now, and I wasn’t going to screw it up. J was my forever love.

As we lay there together, I remembered that Jaxon refused to tell me why he fought with his brother that day ten years ago. Every time I asked, he’d glare at me and say, “It’s stupid, and it doesn’t matter. We’re not talking about it.” We fought a lot in middle school and high school. Now, it was so damn obvious why. We loved each other but didn’t know how to say it.

“Hey, J?” My voice sounded too loud for our sweet, calm quiet.

“Hmm?” His voice stayed low and soft, floating perfectly into the moment.

I tried to lower my voice, too. “You never told me what you and Tyson were fighting about when you got this scar.” I ran my fingers over the raised flesh on his bicep again.

J lifted his arm to examine the scar and then laughed. “Uh, it was about you, actually. Tyson asked if I was still hanging around with you and then told me you were already fucking half the guys in his grade. I told him to shut the hell up. He called you a slut, so I shoved him.” Jaxon kissed the top of my head and then sat up.

I sat up, too, and frowned. “That fight was about me?”

“Well, I mean, all the years of pent up resentment toward him exploded out of me. So it wasn’t only about you. It was a long time coming.”

I nodded but still felt a pang in my chest. Jaxon’s only visible scar was because of me. How many invisible ones had I caused? How many problems had I created for him over the years?

“All right, K, I have eighteen more hours in Ireland. I want to eat all your favorite foods here, see some of your favorite places, and fuck you ten more times.”

I laughed as Jaxon pulled me to a standing position. “What about sleep?” I asked, trying to ignore my worry that I made J’s life harder.

Jaxon grinned and kissed me. “No time.”

24

Jaxon

Kinley and I walked hand-in-hand along a gray cobblestone path. The sky was the same color as the walkway, but it made the green landscape pop. Once K pointed out the beauty to me, I couldn’t stop admiring it.

I crashed her work trip unannounced, and she still had pictures to take, so I tagged along while Kinley worked. I liked seeing her in her element, though. Her usually smiling face turned so serious and thoughtful, and her confidence soared. It was sexy as hell. It made me want to fuck her again. No, I needed to fuck her.

“Did you visit Ireland when your family took that European trip back in middle school?” she asked.

“No, we did like Portugal, Spain, France, and Italy.” Our family vacations could hardly be called vacations. They usually centered around one of Tyson’s academic achievements. The Europe trip didn’t, but it was the worst of them all.

Kinley pulled her hand from mine and lifted her camera to her eye. “God, I love ruins. Fucking gorgeous,” she muttered and snapped a few photos of Dough Castle. “Did you know the chieftain of this castle was murdered by his nephews in the 1400s? Can you imagine having a family fucked up enough to commit murder?”

“Can I imagine having a fucked up family?” I raised a single eyebrow at my girlfriend and laughed.

Kinley grinned and turned her camera to the coast. “Your family isn’t that messed up, J. I don’t think Sasha and Bradly are plotting any murders, are they?”

“Nah. Maybe Tyson, though.”

“I could see that happening back when he was in high school. The dude had some pent up aggression. But he’s engaged now and getting laid regularly, isn’t he? That has to be helping his overall mood.”

“It might be helping. Tyson’s less aggressive these days and more of a smug asshole.” I wrapped my arms around Kinley from behind while she took some more pictures. Her hair billowed in the wind, the soft brown strands tickling my face. I kissed the back of her neck. “Getting laid regularly definitely helps my overall mood, though.” I kissed her jaw. “How many more pictures do you need to take before we can head back?” I had to be at the airport in four hours, and I wanted to have sex one more time. Otherwise, I would have gladly watched Kinley take photos all day.

She laughed. “Am I boring you, J? Do you think you’re going to head back to the airport early? Maybe this trip wasn’t even worth the two-thousand dollar plane ticket!”

“Stop.” I rolled my eyes and squeezed her hips. “You know what I want.”

She lowered her voice. “My body?”

---