I shake my head, as if I can rid myself of the damning thoughts that way. "Fuck, Hailey, I—" I take another step away from her before she can touch me. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I don't—I don't know what came over me. Fuck—"
"Jax," Hailey says, her tone now sounding more like a warning. Like she can see me freaking out and is trying to scold me into holding myself together.
"No, Hailey, I'm supposed to be helping you," I blurt out, trying to make her understand. "I'm supposed to be your friend right now. I shouldn't be—I mean, we shouldn't—fuck, Hailey, I'm so sorry."
She finally gets close enough to take my hand. I look down at her with pleading eyes, hoping I didn't just damage her or our relationship.
"Jax, it's okay," she says softly. I wait for her to say something else, but she just smiles at me—that warm, trusting smile—and repeats, "It's my fault for even making that comment yesterday, and for insisting on a jiu-jitsu lesson today. It’s okay, I swear."
“No,” I say forcefully. “You have nothing to apologize for.I’mthe one that made this inappropriate, not you. Never you. I’m the one that started this whole lesson. And I never should’ve—fuck, Hailey, I never should’ve said…”
I squeeze my eyes shut as the shame of my words rolls through me.God, what the fuck is wrong with me? She needs a friend right now, notthis.
“Jax, it’s okay,” she says quietly, squeezing my hand in an effort to bring my attention back to her. “I promise.”
My eyes shoot open, the need to make her understand making me feel slightly crazy. I grab her other hand with my free one, desperation making me tighten my grip on her.
“Tell me you forgive me,” I choke out. “Tell me you understand that I’m the only one that should be apologizing here, and that you forgive me. Tell me we’re okay.”
She looks at me with shock in her eyes, clearly caught off-guard by the craze in my tone and in my physical stance.
“I forgive you,” she whispers. “Of course, I forgive you. Of course, we’re okay.”
I search her face for any dishonesty, any lie she might be telling me because she doesn't want to hurt my feelings by telling me I just fucked everything up. But there's none. She’s telling the truth.
Some of the tension eases from my shoulders. I squeeze her hand in a silent thank you.
"Do you still want to grab something to eat?" I ask hopefully. "Or I can take you home if you'd rather do that. Whatever you want."
She smiles at me again, squeezing my hand. "Let's get you fed, Superman,” she says. “Maybe we can grab a drink, too. I’m kind of enjoying this drinking thing without a cloak of disapproval, and it’s even more fun doing it with you.”
The reminder of Steve is like a shower of ice cold water. Not only does it make my teeth clench in fury that he would ever treat Hailey with less respect because of a drink, but it also solidifies my resolve to be a good friend to her. The last thing she needs is more drama or headaches from a man, so I definitely shouldn't be coming on to her—inanycapacity. There are so many reasons why that isn't a good idea, but at the top of the fucking list: Hailey deserves a friend right now.
"Then let's get you that drink, baby girl. Your wish is my command."
14
HAILEY
The rest of the night passes comfortably. We make our way to my favorite local pub and spend the next couple hours eating, drinking, laughing, and enjoying each other's company like we always do when we're together. Anyone that takes a look at us probably thinks we're just two friends catching up on a Saturday afternoon.
But I know Jax well enough to recognize that there's still a tiny hint of tension in the air. Not enough to make it awkward between us, but enough to recognize that something happened.
Something’s changed between us.
I glance at Jax, letting myself admire his good looks for the first time. I’ve always known he grew into a handsome man, but I never really let myself appreciate it before this. Out of the corner of my eye, I look over the dark jeans and black T-shirt that he changed into at the gym, both of which cling tightly to his muscles. His jeans must be stretchy because I can see his quads clearly, and his shirt isdefinitelystretchy because I can see every dip, and every ridge of his defined shoulders and huge chest. I wonder briefly how I could have possibly ignored the stunning specimen that is Jax Turner.
Because right now, it’s all I can focus on.
His bright blue eyes are a given, and the only thing I could never overlook. I’ve held Jax’s gaze through too many silent conversations, watched as his eyes lit up when he smiled, for far too long to not notice how mesmerizing they are. Between that and his dirty blonde hair, he’s looked like a Men’s Health magazine cover model since he was a teenager, ever since the summer in high school he shot up to 6’4 and went from a scrawny kid to a built young man.
His height and massive, muscular stature have always been a running joke between us because it highlights the huge size difference between us, but right now, all I can think about is how easily he could dominate me physically. That moment in the gym only emphasized that. I think back to Jax crowding me against the wall, saying things that I’ve always wanted to hear but nevereverexpected to hear from Jax, and I can imagine everything he described so clearly, every spank, every push to get me in the position he wants, every—
“Can I get you guys anything else?” the bartender interrupts my spiraling thoughts, and I clear my throat with a forced cough.
“We’re good for now, thanks,” Jax answers, oblivious to the filthy thoughts currently occupying my mind.
I toss my napkin onto my empty plate and reach for the Corona in front of me. We've been sitting at the bar for about two hours now, much to the bartender's annoyance. Jax isn't a big drinker outside of his corporate sales job and I'm still a total lightweight, which means we've only managed to order two beers each. It wasn't until Jax ordered enough food to feed an army that the bartender's permanent scowl softened slightly.