He hiccups. “I’ve been called much worse, but hearing all that bullshit about being a bad boy still gets me. I’m not a bad boy. I’m just mad at the world and don’t give a shit.”
This is interesting. I had no idea Jax would feel this way.Why do I even care?
“The wholeI don’t give a shitattitude kinda makes you a bad boy in others’ eyes.”
He looks like he’s thinking over my words. “I know, I know. But is it too much to ask that people would treat me differently? I don’t need my hopes, dreams, and ideas to get crushed time after time.”
“I’m sure it isn’t that bad.”
He huffs. “The only thing that has stayed since my childhood is this fucking resentment towards everything and everyone, especially most of the women in my life. How pathetic is that?”
Oh wow. I feel sorry for Jackson Bennett.
No, Soph, No. You can’t feel sorry for a guy like him. It’s impossible. It would be best if you remembered how he made you feel, ghosting you after such a wonderful evening together.
I don’t realize I’ve zoned out till he snaps his fingers in my face. “Earth to Soph? I’m complaining about my mother, and you didn’t even blink an eye when I called her the biggest waste of space. That woman is nothing but pain, hurt, and trouble.”
Funny how I just thought that Jax was the biggest thorn in my side, and now he uses similar words to describe his mother. “Well, I bet you aren’t that different from her. Thetroubledapple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
When I see his expression, I instantly know it was the wrongthing to say. I apologize, but his face turns to stone, and he gets up too quickly and sways slightly.
He holds his hand up as I move around the bar to help him. “Never mind, you’re just like them. You act like a sweetheart, but the truth is uglier than that.”
“Well, excuse me for trying to make a joke. We’re closing soon anyway—no need for you to stay and keep ruining the mood.”
“Don’t tell me what to do; you aren’t the boss of me.” He hiccups again. “I’ll call Ollie boy and check if he’s still up and ready to get me. Actually, I might go for a piss while waiting.”
Jax turns around and starts walking to the restroom, his steps dragging. The light hits his tattoos, and I can’t stop staring. He turns around and catches me ogling him. He smirks deviously. “You know, if you would’ve been a tad nicer, you could’ve made a great rebound. But now, we’ll never know how well we match in bed. What a shame for you.”
I release a humorless laugh. “You’re the one missing out, Jackass.”
He shows me the middle finger before disappearing behind the corner. Right then, I know it’s time to show Jax that I’m more than a rebound and someone to screw over. Nothing screamsfuck you, Jackson Bennett,more than taking a ride with his bike. It should serve as a lesson to him on how to treat women.
It isn’t like I don’t know what I am doing. A part of the reason why I’m even considering this is to hear that familiar hum of an engine that I miss from my childhood. It has been too long since I got to experience it firsthand. Nothing will bring back my days driving along the Atlantic coast with my da, but hopefully, tonight will remind me of those moments.
Less than an hour later, when the beeping sounds in the ambulance surround me, I re-evaluate my fucked-up plan of taking the bike. It’s safe to say that I was the one who made a mistake. But to know how massive the error in my judgment is, time will only tell that.
I have a feeling that I’m not walking away without any consequences. I hope I’ll survive whatever comes my way—I hope I’ll survive Jax’s wrath once he gets to me.
6
JAX
Currently playing: You’ve Got Another Thing Coming by Judas Priest
Bits and pieces of my bike are scattered across the road, and that mad-as-a-hatter woman got hurt. I’m glad she isn’t dead, but I’m still pissed. Watching the ambulance take her in, I call Eli to inform him and Rose about tonight’s events.
“Are you drunk enough to go home yet?” It calms my racing mind to hear his voice in this situation I’ve found myself in.
“The answer is fuck yeah. But that’s not why I’m calling you,” I slur my words. “Rose’s bartender friend took my Isla for a joy ride and then totally crashed her. She’s gone.”
“Wait, what happened?” Eli asks, his voice rising.
I huff—sometimes my genius friend can be as stupid as me. “My bike, Isla, is destroyed. Gone. Kaput.”
“I’m not talking about the damn bike, Jax. What did you mean by Rose’s friend?”
“Well, the last time I checked, your darling Rosie was friends with the hot as fuck, yet idiotic woman who works at Hot’n’Cold,” I mutter and light up a cigarette.
