“I know,” I say. “But I still want to try. We can do long distance, or I can… I don’t know, move there.”
“What? No! You can’t do that,” she says, her voice rising with panic. “You can’t just throw your life away for some girl you slept with once.”
“Look, it’s not like I have college plans keeping me here,” I say, shrugging like it’s nothing. “I’ll get a job there. And hey,” I add, a smug smile touching my lips. “If you’re ready, I’m perfectly fine with being the guy you slept with twice.”
“Don’t joke about this,” she snaps, her eyes shining.
I inch closer and kiss her—slow, sad, like I already know how this ends. When we pull apart, she lays her head on my chest. I wrap my arm around her, and she curls into me like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“I need to do this on my own Jax.”
“Okay,” I pretend it’s ok. “Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna miss you.” I stroke her hair until she falls asleep like that—wrapped in my arms, while I stare up at the stars and pretend I don’t already feel her slipping away.
* * *
When you sleep without a roof, the sun wakes you up. No gentle alarm, just a direct, unforgiving light that turns the inside of your eyelids red. We both stir at the same time. I notice her parted lips, her silky hair, her long lashes… They blink, slow, and her eyes focus on mine. “You’re staring,” she mumbles.
“Sorry. You’re, you know. Hot.”
“Just trying to get in my pants again?”
I cough. “Doesn’t hurt to try.”
“Sure,” she says, nudging me with her shoulder.
And then the question I’ve been avoiding rises up anyway.
“You regret last night?” I ask.
She doesn’t look away. “No. You?”
My chest gets tight. I want to tell her everything—that last night broke something open in me, that everything else feels like shit now, that I can’t stop thinking about being inside her. That I want her to stay, no, need her to, but all I manage is, “No.”
She doesn’t seem convinced.
“If I’m being honest… I want more. A lot more. It’s probably a problem.”
“Give me a few minutes,” she says, stretching. “I’ll be right back.”
She heads for the door and I sit up and reach for the empty water bottle to take a piss, but then I stop. I’m rock hard. “A few minutes” are bouncing around in my skull. Did she mean a few minutes to raid the kitchen, or a few minutes for… this? I have no fucking idea.
I drag a hand down my face and adjust myself with a low groan because at this point it actually hurts. I exhale hard, grab the bottle anyway, and walk it off to the far corner of the roof, giving her space in case she comes back sooner than expected, my brain still running through scenarios like a loser.
I get the bottle in position, but my dick has other ideas.
“Come on,” I growl.
I’m standing there, concentrating, willing my body to just cooperate, but it’s not happening. The stream starts, stops, sprays off to the side at a weird angle. And right before I can get a handle on the situation, a pigeon lands on the ledge next to me, cooing like it knows I’m pathetic. I glance at it. “What are you looking at? You think it’s this easy to piss after seeing pussy like that for the first time?” The pigeon just stares, unimpressed. Without warning, it launches itself forward with a sudden flap of its wings and an aggressive head bob, right into my personal space.
I lose my balance, stumbling a little as I try to aim the fucking thing. I get so pissed I just toss the bottle aside and decide to aimfor the pigeon instead. Just as I let loose, the roof door creaks open and Sisk steps out, her eyes going wide as she takes in the scene: me, half-naked, pissing off a roof at a bird.
“Pitfire,” I curse, trying to shove myself back in my jeans. “He started it,” I tell her.
“Johnny would never,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “He’s a gentleman.”
“You’re telling me you know this pigeon in particular?”
She puts the bag down. “I call them all Johnny.”
