“Because you wouldn’t believe me when I said Jackson’s a hot guy,” he says simply, guiding me back into the corner near the bookshelf we were occupying earlier.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t need to hear about how all my friends are desperately lusting after him,” I pout.
Deacon sighs in exasperation. “Skyler, come on. That’s not what they were doing.”
That’s sure as hell what it felt like. When Will so casually mentioned how attractive he thinks Jax is I wanted to grab him and tackle him to the ground, pummeling his gorgeous face until it was barely recognizable. I’m not a violent person; I left all that shit back in high school when I finally realized Jackson kept taking the blame—and the punishment—for all the fights I was getting into. But damn; in that moment, my gut reaction was just visceral. I hated the way everyone was talking about Jax. Objectifying him like he’s some random guy, or a famous person rather than one of their best friends.
I shake my head, still scowling. “Whatever. I didn’t like it. And you knew I wouldn’t—you shouldn’t have done it.”
He sighs, offering a contrite nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But have you considered that you didn’t like it because you actually have feelings for him?”
I let out an exasperated huff. Not this again. “No—because unlike those creeps,I’mnot attracted to Jackson.”
Deacon considers me carefully. “But how do you really know?”
I scoff. “Please, I think I would have figured it out by now. Do you know how many times we’ve spooned in bed? Or how many times we’ve jerked off together? There’s never even been a blip of attraction,” I argue. “He’s just…Jackson. I mean, come on—if I wasn’t even remotely interested seeing him actually have sex I think we have the answer.”
Deacon’s eyes widen. “Youwatchhim have sex?”
“Of course not. There are boundaries, you know.”
Deacon rolls his eyes.
“But it’s not my fault if I want to go cuddle in his room and don’t realize he has a girl in there until the door’s already wide open. And there was one time I had to interrupt because of a life-threatening emergency,” I explain. “Those were the only times. But he doesn’t hook up that often, and it’s really rare for him to bring someone back to the apartment. Same with me, actually. Neither of us really like having strangers invade our space.”
“What the hell was the life-threatening emergency?” Deacon asks, his expression a mix of exasperation and concern.
I grimace at the memory. “Oh, god. That was a long night. There was a food truck near school that was always a bit touch and go,” I begin. “That day I decided to take the gamble and get a burrito, because the food’s great, even if you sometimes have to pay for it later. If I knew Jax was going to have a hook-up over, I wouldn’t have taken the chance, obviously, but I did… and luck wasn’t on my side. I held out as long as I could, but ultimately I just had to give in and let it rip.”
Deacon screws up his face in obvious disgust. “Okay, first of all—not life-threatening, or an emergency. And second—how does this relate to seeing Jax have sex?”
“Oh, because they were doing it in the bathroom.”
Deacon just stares at me, wide-eyed, for a moment before shaking his head. “Jesus Christ. How the fuck haven’t they made a reality show about you?”
I grin at him. “Because reality shows are fake and I’m a hundred per cent natural, baby.”
He rolls his eyes. “What the fuck did the girl do? Please, for the love of god, tell me they didn’t just keep going while you sat there spewing out of your ass?”
“Ew. No, Jackson would never do that to me. The girl ran out screaming like she’d just seen the devil or something, and then Jax fed me Gatorade while I sat there spewing out of my ass.”
Deacon grimaces. “Jesus, he’s a fucking saint. Not going to lie, I don’t think I’d even do that for Tanner.”
“Yeah, obviously. You’re all in love with Tanner, and you think he’s like, the sexiest guy ever. Watching him shit his guts out would totally ruin that beautiful illusion. I mean, that’s all you’d be able to think about the next time you rimmed him.”
Deacon groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Seriously, Sky? You really had to go there?” He moves his hand and hits me with a firm look. “Let’s get something straight, though: I don’t love Tanner because he’s super-hot, or because we have great sex. I love him forhim.Maybe I’m wrong, maybe you’re notinlove with Jax, but you said yourself he’s the love of your life, and that’s how I feel about Tanner. Now, apart from the fact that I very much doubt Tanner would evenwantme around in a situation like that one, there are a ton of other things I could do to help him if he were sick that don’t involve hovering and spoon-feeding him a power drink, which he’d be more than capable of drinking on his own if he wanted. And, for the record, I don’t need to worry about the illusion being ruined, because it’s not an illusion.”
I’m caught between feeling chastened and annoyed. I didn’t mean to insinuate that Deacon’s relationship is merely superficial, but let’s call a spade a spare—the only reason Deacon was interested in Tanner in the first place was because the guy’s sexy as hell. And the only reason either of them stayed in it long enough to fall in love is because the sex was apparently “epic.”
I’m not suggesting that because Jackson and I have a far longer and deeper history, and way fewer boundaries between us, that it somehow makes our bond better or stronger or whatever. But it’s real. It’s organic. It didn’t evolve out of epic sexual chemistry. We didn’t let our dicks lead us.
I don’t doubt Deacon, and all my other friends as well, are in happy, stable, committed relationships full of genuine love, and that they’ll all live happily ever after. And I’m thrilled for them. But it’s not the same. Not better. Not worse.Different.
I sigh. “Sorry, that wasn’t cool. I know it’s not an illusion. But can you please do me a favor?”
Deacon nods. “Yeah, what?”
“Don’t try to compare your relationship of less than five months to me and Jax.” I hold up a hand to halt Deacon’s protest. “I’m not saying you guys aren’t the real thing, or doubting your commitment, or suggesting you won’t make it in the long run—I was the one pushing you to get back together, remember?” I remind him pointedly. “All I’m saying is it’s not comparable. The data doesn’t match. You’re only going to give yourself a headache and frustrate the hell out of me.”
