“I like you, Cassy,” Jax said quietly. “I really do. You’re funny. You’re smart. You know what you want.”
“Except when I need a new tat.” I stifled a giggle.
“Well, for that, you have me.” He smirked.
“True. Sometimes I get tired of making all the major decisions.”
“I know you’re probably not in a good place right now, but I really want this to work.”
My throat was tight with sudden panic. I wanted it to work too. I’d never had a boyfriend before Frank. Men came and went. Kind of like tampons. Or seasons. Now that I’d gotten a taste of a real relationship, I wanted someone to cuddle with, someone as uncomplicated as Jax. Someone with a job, someone who liked rock music, and someone who wouldn’t scream, drunk-drool, and embarrass me in front of hundreds of people.
Was that too much to ask?
“Why don’t we pretend we just met,” I said, reaching for my glass to finish my drink.
“We can do that,” Jax agreed. “Whatever pace you want this to move at.”
“You’re very…” I stopped to look for the right word, but my brain was a spinning inferno. “…nice.”
His features remained calm, but his eyes changed. There was a shift in the air. I felt it with every numb cell in my body. I didn’t know what it was. Apprehension. Malevolence. My drunk mind couldn't process his signals correctly.
We talked some more and ordered dessert. Our conversation revolved around Jax’s work on the TV show and my larger than life documentary project that was failing miserably. We left late. I was inelegantly drunk and my mouth refused to stay shut. The streets were filled with people. Nightlife was at its peak. We drove along the busy stretch of Sunset Boulevard, top down and radio up.
“Thank you for tonight,” I said when the car came to a stop at a red light.
“Thank you for coming.” Jax turned his head to look at me. His face was a pleasant blur. I felt his palm slide over mine. He laced our fingers together ever so carefully. My body drew tight with awareness, but there were no sparks and electricity like with Frank, and I wondered if the fuck like a rock star expression implied that regular people didn’t click with each other the way rich, famous, and shamelessly hot did. Although I had to admit, Jax was insanely handsome. He’d caught my attention the moment I met him, but then again, we’d met before Frank came along.
A commercial replaced a Five Finger Death Punch song on the radio.
“Have you ever been to a car show?” Jax asked, his voice meshing with the hum of the traffic.
“A long time ago.”
“Would you like to go with me sometime next month?”
“It depends on when. If it’s after the screening, I’d love to,” I yelled over the noise that swirled in the intersection.
The first beats of the next song poured at us from the speakers. It took me a few moments to recognize the melody. My spine stiffened when Dante’s guitar pierced the air. I wanted to pull my hand out of Jax’s grip, but my body was so numb from all the drinks I’d had earlier at the restaurant that I just sat there like a statue, holding my breath, until the light turned green and the car moved.
The song was from the new album. Hearing Dante and Frank together felt strange. They didn’t even speak anymore, yet millions of people were probably eating, kissing, or making love to their music right now. It was a moody ballad. A little dark and dramatic, but with a touch of tender light. The notes filtered through me, healing and hurting. Eventually, the music and memories became too much.
“Do you like Slipknot?” I asked Jax after I lowered the volume. My voice and my hands shook.
We were on the freeway. The wind swept my hair against my cheeks and stung my bare shoulders.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” He nodded and flashed me a grin.
I docked my phone and opened my heavy metal playlist. A wall of angry sounds hit us a moment later.
“You’re my kind of girl, Cassy.” Jax laughed.
I smiled and let the song carry me into dark bliss. The ragged rhythm of my shattered heart matched the drums, and the hum of my pulse followed the bass thrum. When all else failed, music always came to my rescue. Music was my one true love, my driving force, my best friend, my pillow to cry on, my punching bag. Unlike people, music was always there when I needed it most.
My recognition returned by the time the convertible rolled through my neighborhood. The dog walkers and the runners were hidden in their condos, and the street was empty and quiet.
Jax pulled up to the curb. I noted him putting the gear in Neutral, which could only mean one thing, he didn’t plan on letting me leave too soon. A disturbing knot twisted my stomach. I disconnected my phone and the music stopped. The silence between us thickened with each passing second.
“I had a great time,” Jax said, shifting toward me. His eyes roamed my face.
“Me too.” It was a partial lie. This date had given me whiplash. I’d gone from the lowest low of self-doubt to the highest high of drunk overconfidence at least a dozen times since he’d picked me up from this very spot four hours ago.
Then it happened. He leaned forward and his face neared mine. I knew what was coming, but my body failed to respond to the pleas of my brain. I couldn’t explain the reason behind my stupor. Was it alcohol? Was it jealousy?
There were no fireworks when our lips collided. He had a nice mouth. Soft, warm, and positively unmemorable. It was like any other man that had kissed me before Frank.
“I’m sorry,” I squealed, pulling back. My heart banged against my ribs so hard, I could barely breathe. “I can’t do this, Jax. I really do enjoy your company, but I don’t like you the way you like me.” My voice leaked torment.
He stared at me with lost eyes, resolve and disappointment crossing his face. His breath, hot and minty from the gum, fanned against my cheeks.
I snapped out of my half-drunken stupor and hurried to unfasten my seatbelt. “I’m sorry I led you on.” My trembling whisper filled the cold stillness surrounding us. “You’re a very nice guy. I just don’t think I’m ready.”
All the blood in my veins rushed to my head. My entire face, including the tips of my ears, burned with embarrassment.
Jax slid back into his seat and rested both hands on the steering wheel. “I guess it’s true what they say.” His throat bobbed as he spoke. “Nice guys finish last.”
I wasn’t sure he wanted to hear encouraging words from me.
“I’m sorry.” I pushed the door open and climbed out of the car. “Thank you for dinner.” Our gazes locked one last time.
“Good night, Cassy,” he said with a sad smile.
“Good night.”
I stumbled through the empty courtyard, fighting the sudden tears. Ashton was still awake, watching TV, and for a second, I envied the simplicity of his life. His biggest problem was getting into a community college. He hadn’t had his soul crushed by the idol from his adolescent dreams. He didn’t have a huge nonprofit project that was failing to meet all possible deadlines. He didn’t have people trolling his social media or strangers emailing him even stranger photos.
“Was the date that bad?” he bellowed from the couch as I trudged past him into my room.