Which is why I don’t backtrack and why I don’t apologize or try to prevaricate. Instead, I take a deep breath in an effort to beat back the annoyance and the anxiety that are building inside me—and then tell Jaxon as much of the truth as I understand myself. “It means he knows every single thing I’m thinking. Not just what I’m doing, but if I’m hungry or what pair of underwear I’m thinking about wearing or that I really don’t understand aeronautical physics at all.
“So yeah, he knew that I was nervous about shifting again—who wouldn’t be, considering I don’t even remember doing it the first time? Or, for that matter, how I shifted back to my human form. I was worried about not being able to turn into a gargoyle. I was worried about not being able to shift back again. I was worried about it all. Every single part of it, even though I was doing laundry late at night because I was trying not to think about it so I could actually sleep.”
I’m all worked up now, so I start to pace—which, it turns out, feels oddly different from when I do it in my human form but also oddly the same. It’s something to think about, but at a different time, when Jaxon isn’t looking at me like his head might explode at any second.
“So yes, Jaxon,” I continue, “Hudson helped me out. Not because I had anything against you, but just because he was there.”
Jaxon holds my gaze, and I watch a muscle in his jaw tick, but he doesn’t say anything.
I can’t help the sadness creeping in to fill the void where my anger had been. This isn’t Jaxon’s fault any more than it’s mine. I sigh. “Fucking Hudson.”
“Ouch. Don’t hold back, Grace. Tell me how you really feel,” Hudson says from where he’s suddenly sprawled out on the Astroturf right behind Jaxon, a copy of Sartre’s No Exit open in his hands.
60
Paranormal Telenovelas
Are a Lifestyle
Choice
“Are you kidding me?” I turn and yell at Hudson, sadness disappearing under the reservoir of annoyance he so easily taps into. “You decide to show up now?”
“I’ve been here awhile, but it was starting to get uncomfortable listening to the two of you fight.” He yawns and stretches a little, which just pisses me off more—exactly as I know he intends. “And by uncomfortable, I mean really fucking boring.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that. Since, you know, I live to serve your every whim.”
“I do know,” he agrees. “And I have to say I appreciate it, which was why I’m letting you know that this whole back-and-forth thing with Jaxon really isn’t working for me. But no worries. I know you’ll fix it for next time.”
I am well aware that he’s just messing with me, know that he’s trying to get me upset, and still I fall into the trap because how can I not? “You’re awful, you know that? Like really, really, ‘slugs crawling on your skin’ awful.”
He yawns again. “Old news, Grace. Try to keep up.”
“Is this actually happening right now?” Jaxon’s voice slices through the air between us. “I’m talking to you and you’re talking to him?”
“I don’t have a choice—” I start to say.
“Don’t,” he says, gaze like black ice. “Don’t lie to me and say you aren’t doing it willingly. You turned to face him. I’m sorry he’s so much more interesting than I am—”
“He’s not, Jaxon. Of course he’s not.”
“Now, now, Grace, my brother asked you not to lie,” Hudson admonishes me. “But cut him some slack, will you? It’s not his fault he’s so damn boring.”
I glare at Hudson. “Stop it! He is not boring!”
“Could have fooled me.” Yet another yawn. “And here I thought you were supposed to be practicing the whole gargoyle thing this morning? Though, I have to admit, I like what you’ve done with the horns.”
“The horns?” Instinctively, I lift a hand to my left horn and feel it. “Oh my God, it’s bigger. How can it be bigger?”
“Now there’s a question I’m sure Jaxon’s never heard,” Hudson says dryly.
“I’m still here, you know,” Jaxon grinds out. “I’m right fucking here.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Jaxon. I’m so sorry. But he’s the most annoying person on the planet, and he refuses to shut up.”
“Careful, Grace. Keep that up and you’re going to hurt my feelings,” Hudson mocks.
“I couldn’t get that lucky!” I snap before turning back to Jaxon, who’s got a half-angry, half-amazed look on his face.
“Is this what he does all day?” he finally asks. “Just badgers you until you look like you’re about to explode?”
“He does it until I do explode, but yes. This is what he does. Over and over and over again.”
“Wow, snookums. You make me sound so powerful.” Hudson bats his eyes at me, but there’s a gleam of remorse in them, like maybe he thinks he’s gone too far. I don’t trust it, but then, I don’t trust anything about him. He’s probably just sad Jaxon and I are no longer at each other’s throats.
“Again, ouch.”
“Again, bite me.”
He’s not smiling, but I can see two fangs gleaming. “You keep offering that, and someone’s going to take you up on it.”
“Yeah, well, someone already has,” I retort.
“Don’t remind me.”
The usual amusement is gone from his tone. Everything is gone, and all that’s left is blankness—blank voice, blank face. I’d say blank body language except he lies back down on the field, kicks one ankle over the other knee, and holds No Exit up in front of his face as he starts to read.
It’s blatant—the “I don’t have a care in the world” and “fuck you very much” body language rolled into one—and I don’t have a clue what to say about it. Or how to feel about it.
Before I can figure it out, Jaxon says, “I’m sorry,” and he walks over and wraps his arms around my waist from behind.
I stiffen instinctively, then force myself to relax, even as I shift back to my human form. Because there’s no use being angry with him for being angry about this situation. Does it suck for me? Yes. Would I be pissed as hell if he had some girl in his head taking all his attention away from me, who knew everything about him before I did and worked really hard to make me feel completely out of the loop? Hell yes, I would.