“What?” I snap, snatching for the jeans, my cheeks burning with shame.
He leans one shoulder against the brick wall, the picture of casual cruelty. “You’re beautiful.”
“Fuck you,” I bite out, yanking the denim up my legs.
“Keep pulling those jeans on like that and we’ll see if the monster wants a second round before the night’s over.”
He lights a cigarette.
“I still hate you by the way,” I say, the words hollow.
“The feeling is mutual, Rabbit. That’s why this works so well.”
He studies me for another second then he pushes off the wall, takes another long drag of his cigarette, and tilts his head toward the metal ladder bolted to the brick wall above us.
“Come on.”
“What? Where?” I ask, my voice raspy.
He jerks his chin upward, blowing a plume of smoke toward the stars. “The roof.”
I hesitate before grabbing the ladder and climbing. Jax follows behind me, I don’t need to look to know he’s watching my ass the whole way up.
When I haul myself onto the roof, it’s like the whole city just flips me off. The buildings around us dip just enough to give you a front-row seat to the shit show—endless rows of glowing windows and traffic. It’s the kind of view that makes you feel either like a god or a total nobody.I’m leaning towards nobody.
Jax strolls past me and drops onto the ledge, one leg swinging over the edge like he’s daring the pavement below. He taps his cigarette against the brick, then offers me the pack without a glance.
We sit there smoking in silence, until, he cuts a look at me. “So,” he says, flicking ash into the void. “What’s really pissing you off? Because we both know it’s not me.”
“It’s always you Jax. But I also need a job.”
He nods slowly like this is a very serious revelation.
“Well,” he says. “The bar’s not exactly thriving, but if you want?—”
“I would rather clean prison toilets.”
He turns his head, a slow, impressed smile spreading across his face. “Wow.”
“What?” I ask, taking a long drag.
“That’s the level we’re at, huh?” he says. “I’ve officially sunk below the shit of Tar City.”
“Pretty much.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Good to know. Means I can only go up from here.”
“I think it’s a permanent position,” I tell him.
“Fuck buddies aside,” he says.
“Fucking fuck buddies aside,” I correct, deadpan.
He grins.
“You know, you could try harder,” I tell him.
“Try harder?”
