“We’ll be fine.” She moves to go back inside. “You stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
“I can take her home,” Jaxson pipes in, and Maggie looks shocked by his suggestion, her eyes wide.
“No, go, Romeo. How do we know you’re not a serial killer?”
I almost choke at her words. Figures that I’d feel comfortable with him if he was one. I’m apparently not a good judge of character.
“I’m Jaxson Price.” He says this like it means something. As if his name excludes him from being crazy. But I know better. It doesn’t matter how good you look on paper; you never know who a person is behind closed doors.
“And that means you’re not insane? Plenty of pretty boys are serial killers,” I say before I can stop myself.
The only problem with my verbal diarrhea is that Jaxson caught the one word I didn’t mean to say. His lips tip up into a gigantic smile. I want to wipe it right off his face.
“Soooo,” he drags out, and the urge to roll my eyes at him runs through me because I know what he is about to say. “You think I’m pretty?”
I turn to look at Maggie. “I’ll be fine. Regardless of the fact he’s an ass”—I point over to him— “he won’t hurt me.” I might not know him well, but I trust him.
Which should probably sound off blaring alarms, but it doesn’t.
Guess I’ll never learn. Maybe he’ll prove me wrong or, in this case, right.
“Fine,” she huffs. “But you can’t leave her alone.” Maggie turns to me, her face awash with sorrow. “Also, when she’s like this . . . she likes chocolate.” I lift a brow. “You do. Don’t think I don’t see you eating Kit Kats in your bed.” A small laugh escapes my mouth.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” she asks again.
“I’ll be fine,” I promise.
“We’ll stay right here or, better yet, in the kitchen. I’ll watch over her. She’ll be well taken care of,” Jaxson says.
Maggie looks at me, and I nod. “Go.”
“You sure?” She must see the answer in my eyes because she hurries back in to work.
Jaxson is then reaching his hand out, but I don’t take it. “Come on, let’s go inside so your friend doesn’t have a heart attack.”
“I’d like to stay here for a bit if that’s okay?”
“Whatever makes you happy.”
“I’m happy outside.” I tilt my head up and look toward the sky. From my peripheral, I can see him sitting beside me.
“The stars are pretty sick tonight.”
“They are. I didn’t realize how much I missed them until now,” I say. My voice is low amongst the backdrop of the quiet night. The evening sky is now black and silent. You would never think a party is going on behind us.
“Yeah, I feel you. No stars in the city.”
“Nope.”
“So that’s where you live?” And I realize I walked right into that. A desire to talk weaves its way through me. It feels as if no one can hurt me here cloaked by the night sky, and I can say things in the dark of the night. At least that’s what I tell myself as I open my mouth. A little information won’t hurt.
“I live with Maggie.”
“And do you have a name?” he asks.
I think about what to say. Should I give him the name Willow . . . or another name altogether? It’s not like he can find me with it. It’s not like it’s real anyway.
Both options are fake.
“Willow,” I respond before I can second-guess myself.
“And is there a last name, Willow?” He sits forward, his curiosity oozing out of him as he stares at me.
The thing is, it doesn’t matter how curious he is, I can’t offer him more than my first name.
“Nope, just Willow. Or at least that’s all you’re getting.”
“Ah. You’re like a celebrity.” He smiles as he nods in approval, as if he thinks my reason is part of some act to entertain him.
If only that were the case, my life would be much easier.
“Something like that,” I retort playfully, playing up the game he thinks I’m playing.
“You’re a tough crowd.”
“Sorry.”
“No worries. I like it.” Even in this light, I can see his dimple peeking through, and I realize by going along with this game, he thinks I’m flirting.
“I’m not trying to play hard to get,” I clarify.
“I know, that’s why I like it.”
I look back at the sky to distance myself from this conversation, and this time, I close my eyes and let out a deep breath because now that the moment is over, all my troubles drift back into my mind.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
I can feel the shaking of his body as he must nod to himself. Then I feel him stand, and my lids jut open.
“Where are you going?”
“Inside to grab some supplies.” He smirks.