Page 22 of Happy Hour

Everyone, including me, wanted a piece of Jameson. Everyone wanted to talk to him about the race and the win. Everyone wanted to get a picture with him...wants, wants, wants.

I’ll tell you about wants...Mywantwas working overdrive as I observed him working the room, shaking hands with everyone and mingling.

I had a feeling he didn’t know who most of these people were but he pretended. I on the other hand, had no idea who anyone was until Alley and Jameson took me around and introduced me.

“This is Melissa Childers.” Jameson said motioning with a tight nod to the short brown haired woman standing before me. “She’s a public relations rep for Simplex.”

“Hey dude,” Tommy threw an arm around Jameson. “Justin and Tyler just flew to Terra Haute for tomorrow’s race. They said to tell you congratulations and this girl hello,” Tommy tugged on my hair.

“Thanks.” Jameson replied with a wide smile.

Melissa, who remained beside me, shook my hand and chatted as Jameson moved through the crowd to greet fans and a few other drivers that made an appearance.

Seated securely in the corner, wanting to control myself for once tonight, I kept an eye on Jameson from a distance. That alluring mysteriousness circling him captivated me as it always did.

He stood in the shadows of the bar; wanting a distance he wouldn’t receive any time soon. Watching the crowd, he took on a striking curiosity that just barely overpowered that restlessness in his eyes.

His shoulders gave a dismissive shrug to an unheard question from the man seated next to him in a dark suit. The man walked away after that leaving Jameson to himself for a moment until the next person requested his attention. It seemed to be an endless cycle and I knew then why he stayed in the shadows.

Beneath the many layers of Jameson was that vulnerability about him that you didn’t see too often in racers as I’ve said. Or was it that defining edge I spoke of?

Personally, I think most racers possessed this but you didn’t know them well enough to be aware of it.

Jameson seemed indifferent to the fans surrounding him, yet he didn’t make an attempt to leave. A nervous energy swept from him in waves charging and pulsating throughout the bar. I could feel the change in him. He was still the same but I was afraid of what he had to be on the outside to protect him and this dream.

Even with the pliant indifference he had tonight, I could still see that restlessness and the loneliness this lifestyle had created over the last few years.

His eyes were distant, unseeing for a moment as he searched the crowd appearing to be looking for someone, me maybe.

Looking at him now you wouldn’t know this was a man who’d just one a race. He appeared annoyed, or maybe it was that restlessness I couldn’t get past.

Tommy walked by ruffling his hair. The mask of stoicism gave way to the gesture as he cracked a smile.

Jameson stole a sideways furtive glance my direction. A familiar heat spread over me, he was still that boy I grew to love. He was still Jameson.

I smiled, seeing the authenticity I’ve always known.

Another fan approached him for an autograph, his body shifted towards them to offer them a little piece of himself.

Dragging his hand through his hair, a careful smile formed but I could see he was uneasy with the close proximity of the room.

A reporter with Fox Sports, made it known she had an attraction for Jameson by basically hovering over him.

That only made me want to push him against the bar he was leaning against and fuck the boy senseless right in front of her.

You sound like a jealous high school girl with insecure emotional issues.I told myself. Well I wasn’t in high school and didn’t really have any insecure emotional issues but jealous...party for one please.

“I’ve seen that look before, Sway.” Alley whispered in my ear taking a seat next to me at the large dark wooden table.

So much for my private stalking.

I didn’t look up quickly finding interest in tracing the cracks in the wood with my fingertips.

Turning, I glared past her, my eyes focused on Jameson. “Who is that hanging on him?”

“Ashley Conner, she’s a reporter with Fox Sports.” Alley looked over the drink menu, never looking up. “She does thiseveryweekend.”

Throwing my arms against the table, I groaned letting my head fall against my forearms. “He’s slept with her—hasn’t he?”

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