Part 38 (1/2)
Finally, Tegan turns her big brown eyes to mine. ”Maybe.”
”Maybe,” I repeat. Tegan says something else, but I don't hear. We've spoken about trying to make a go of things; solidify what we have before my world changes permanently. Now this. ”Right.”
I grab a towel from the shelf above the bath and stand.
Tegan looks up, mouth parting. ”What's wrong?”
I yank the towel around my waist and step out of the bath. ”What the h.e.l.l do you think is wrong?”
”I haven't made a final decision, Jax, I -”
”But you're thinking about going, aren't you? What about us?”
”That's why I haven't made the final decision!”
Water drips to the floor, down my legs as the jealous disappointment runs through my body. ”Why now?”
”Not now. Soon. In a few weeks.”
”I don't f.u.c.king believe this!” I storm out of the bathroom and run my fingers through my damp fringe.
”Jax!”
By the time she appears, covered in a towel and bubbles sliding down her legs, I'm half dressed, t-s.h.i.+rt in hand. Tegan approaches and touches my face. ”Don't be like this.”
”I can't believe you'd decide something as big without talking to me.”
”I haven't decided anything! I am talking to you!”
”Sounds like the decision is made.” I pull my t-s.h.i.+rt on. ”Thanks a lot.”
Tegan sinks onto the bed, where the sheets remain scrunched from our afternoon wrapped in each other. ”Wow.”
”I told you I wanted us! Don't you want this?”
”Of course I do but I have an opportunity here!”
”You never said you were interested in a career in PR! Not once!”
”I spend my life on social media, blogging, writing, this is just an extension of that.”
”A week ago, you said this was temporary! You can't go!”
I stiffen as her eyes flash with a look I recognise, the memory of a similar argument pus.h.i.+ng in, but this is different. This would be permanent.
”I can't go?” she says, voice ice-cold.
”I don't want you to! This would be over.”
”Oh, really? Thanks!”
”No, you said yourself you don't do long-distance relations.h.i.+ps.” I sit in the chair opposite and shove my feet into my combat boots. ”By leaving, you're telling us this is over.”
”I am not! Maybe with you, I'm willing to try!”
Standing again, I grab my phone. ”Willing to try? Wow, thanks.”
”Where are you going?”
”Out!”
”Jax! Don't be stupid. Let's talk about this.”
”Later. I have to go. Rehearsing this afternoon.”
”Don't expect me to come running after you!” she retorts. ”You're behaving like a spoilt kid!” I grunt in response, she's probably right, but I don't care. ”Oh, right. So I expect you're going to get drunk now? Your solution to everything!”
”So what if I am?”
Leaving a shocked Tegan half-naked on my bed, I walk away. Here I am, expecting a chance at a future from me and Tegan coming back together, and she doesn't give a c.r.a.p.
40.
TEGAN.
I cannot believe Jax is behaving like a spoilt toddler. Normal people have rational conversations; they discuss problems, instead of walking away to sulk. Or in Jax's case, drink. Is he really so lost in his own importance that the minute something in his life doesn't go the way he wants he pulls a stunt like this? Talk about extreme. Jesus.
I text him a couple of hours after his dummy spit in the hope he'll lay off getting wasted until after he plays tonight. He doesn't respond straightaway; and when he does, it's via a terse text. p.i.s.sed off, I pack my gear and head from the hotel back to Bryn's. Life with this man is one huge rollercoaster ride. We fall from the new heights we're exploring, where n.o.body can touch us, back into uncontrolled emotions of a harsher kind.
An apologetic Jax calls me at work the next day and, in his usual style, he arrives five minutes later carrying lunch. His arrival causes a hormonal meltdown in the office. Since I've worked here, actor and musician clients come in and out of the building, but none has the effect of Jax Lewis.
The tall guy with his confident persona, oozing a s.e.xuality that pulls the girls - and at least one guy - into his wake, approaches me. I'm used to seeing Jax in his natural environment, but here he's an exotic creature on display. Judging by the expression on Claire's face, he'll be eaten alive if he stands still too long.
I'm with Julian, running through yesterday's website traffic figures. He's the design guru, and does an amazing job of putting my ideas into reality. Give the man a rough concept and he has a one of a kind design ready in hours. When Jax approaches me, he ignores Julian.
Jax's fringe falls into his eyes, hiding his thoughts from me, as he pa.s.ses a small plastic bag. ”Brought you a sandwich.” His voice is stiff, as cold as when he left yesterday.
”Thanks.” I attempt to capture a smile from him but none comes, and he barely glances at me.
”Anywhere we can talk?” he asks.
”Conference room is free,” suggests Julian.
Jax fixes Julian with a disinterested look and runs his tongue along his teeth. ”Thanks.”
”Jax, this is Julian.”