Page 117 of Prey Tell
He laughs harder. “Fuck my life,” he wheezes, standing up and walking over to me, giving me a tight hug. He pulls away, glaring at me, the mirth suddenly gone from his expression. “I was serious earlier. I will destroy you if you hurt her. I will cut your beating heart right out of your chest, do you hear me?”
I frown. “Jesus, Jax.”
He laughs again and hugs me. “I’m joking. You know I can’t stand the sight of blood.” Pulling away, he smiles.Genuinelysmiles. “I’m happy for you. Truly. And her. But I’ll tell you the same thing I told her. Neverevertalk to me about your sex life.”
I chuckle. “It’s a deal.”
We’re both quiet for a moment as he looks around the living quarters, digesting everything that was said. Finally, Jackson looks at me with wide eyes.
“You owe me, right?” His voice is slightly slurred.
My mouth twists into a smile. “I suppose so.”
He nods once, and then his expression is resolved. “Right. Thanks to you, I am now too drunk to drive. But I think…” he trails off, placing a finger on his lips. “I think I need to go do something.”
I’m grinning by the time I’m pushing him into his bedroom, begging him to shower and offering to borrow Miles’ driver to drive him to Mark’s house.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
THE AMENDS
Juliet
When I get home, I go on a long run, taking my favorite route along the ocean. The sun is setting, and I relish in the way my body moves me, the way my body supports me, mile after mile. I didn’t bring my headphones, so I listen to the sounds my body makes. The way my body feels. Light puffs of air through my pursed lips. The soft pads of my shoes on the concrete sidewalk. The way my running shorts make a rustling sound with each movement. And then there are the internal sensations—my lungs burning slightly, but not uncomfortably, as I breathe heavily. My heart pulses in my veins. The sting of my calves when I go uphill.
I tune everything else out andlistento my body as I turn around, heading back home. By the time I open my front door, my legs are wobbly from overexertion, and my sports bra is soaking wet. I don’t stop walking as I kick off my shoes, shed my clothes, and walk straight into my shower. I moan when the warm water hits my skin, genuinely smiling for the first time in days. I’m not worried about my dissertation, or Chase, or Jackson, or the woman at the castle.
Everything is going to be fine.
When I’m done shaving my legs, I turn my shower off and wrap a towel around myself, walking into my bedroom, still dripping wet. I stop walking when I see a note sitting on my pillow. Walking over slowly, I pick it up and read it, my heart pounding inside of my chest.
Parker,
I thought this list might help determine your next move, since you love data so much. If you wish to proceed, please go to your favorite coffee shop.
Pros: great sex, he’s already best friends with your brother (yes, still), rich as fuck, knows your favorite color, flower, TV show, food, and smell, willing to grovel (but please don’t mention this to anyone), will attempt to tame the jealousy, will always think you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever fucking met, seven-course breakfasts every morning ;), but seriously, what do I have to do? Tell me, and it’s done.
Cons: mediocre sex, seriously, is that what you want?, mediocre cars, mediocre dresses, having to deal with your brother’s annoying best friend who will accept your rejection but still wants to pay for your future wedding, because he wants you to be happy…
I’m swiping at my cheeks by the time I finish Chase’s note. Laughing, I quickly change into a pair of ripped jeans and an old sweatshirt, sliding my feet into sandals before I throw my hair up into a wet bun. I grab my keys and drive to Perky Roasters, though seeing as it’s nearly half past eight at night, I highly doubt it’s open. Besides, how does Chase know my favorite coffee shop?
After I park, I walk into Perky Roasters, surprised to see it open.
“Hello?” I ask, looking around. A man walks to the register, smiling at me. He’s young, and as my eyes adjust to the lighting, I realize all of the chairs are stacked and the tables wiped down. “Are you still open?” I ask, my voice unsure.
He shrugs. “It depends on if you’re Juliet. If so, I was paid a hefty sum to stay open for you.” He procures a cardboard cup. “Cappuccino with an extra shot?”
I take the coffee from him. It’s still warm. “Um, thanks? Is there a note or anything?” I ask.This is the strangest thing that’s ever happened to me… but also the most romantic.
He gives me a lazy, stoned smile. “Check the side of your cup, lady.” Then he turns and walks into the back, and I’m left wonderingwhois a lady and do I really seemthatold?
I walk back to the privacy of my car, taking a delicious sip of coffee as the same scratched scrawl is written on the side of the cup.
You’ll need your energy for tonight.
And yes, I paid that kid five hundred dollars to stay open until you got there. Repeat after me: I don’t half-ass anything. Not even an apology.
Come to my apartment.
