Right. No phone.
I look at Jax. “Can I borrow your phone?”
He walks over and hands it to me without question.
I open the browser and search the UCLA hockey team.
The roster loads. Faces. Names. Numbers.
Number 39. Jax Kingsway. Right wing. Whatever that means.
There’s a photo of him in full gear. Dark eyes staring down the camera. He looks handsome in this photo. I can only imagine what Dad would think if he saw this photo. He would definitely think I “opened my legs” to a guy like him. I glance over my shoulder, stealing a peek at Jax. He’s already looking at me with an unreadable expression.
I turn back to his phone and realize I’m holding the one thing he always has on him. Everyone’s phones have some secret passage to them, and I wonder what Jax’s is. I hold it in my palm, ignoring the feeling that he somehow trusts me. How can he trust me if he doesn’t know me?
I keep scrolling and find the coach’s name. His contact info is right here. Great.
This is the first thing Dad’s going to do, and then he’s going to destroy him.
“Researching me, Tigerlily?”
I jump. Jax is right behind the couch. Looking over my shoulder.
I swallow, feeling my pulse kick up. I don’t normally talk to boys. I’ve never been boy crazy. Boys never looked at me likethat. They keep their distance from me, and honestly, I like it that way. I have enough testosterone in my life.
I clear my throat. “Uh––I think this is going to be the first thing my dad’s going to do.” I turn my head to look at him. “And then he’s going to call your coach.”
Jax looks straight into my eyes. I want to run away and hide. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. And then his gaze drops to my lips.
My breath catches.
And for a second, I forget about my dad, about going home, and about everything except the way he’s looking at me.
“Let me see,” he says, asking for his phone back.
I hand it to him and gaze forward at the TV.
After a moment of silence, Jax shows me the phone. It’s the picture of him. “Yeah, he’ll have a heart attack when he sees my face.”
I stare at the screen, knowing that he’s right, but not sure what point he’s trying to make.
He pulls the phone back and says, “I think you should stay here tonight. I can take you home before the sun rises.”
Zinnia clings tighter to me.
I face the TV again, not knowing what I want to do.
All I know is that it would just be easier if I didn’t have to deal with my dad.
Despicable Me is over. Zinnia is asleep on my shoulder. I’m staring at the commercials, wondering what my dad is doing. He must be driving up and down the street. Maybe he went to the police.
Jax walks over and sits next to me. His weight makes the cushion tilt, so my body slightly falls into his direction. I keep watching the TV, even though I feel him staring at me.
“I can take you home––”
“No,” I say quickly. The more I think about going home, the more I’m afraid that my dad’s going to strangle me like he does sometimes.
“Do you want to take Zinnia home?” he asks gently.
