“It’s a good thing there isn’t any water for Harper to throw at your ugly mug.” Jax speaks up for the first time.
I can’t help the way my entire body tenses from the sound of his voice. I ignore the rest of the conversation and sink back into myself again. I replay every moment I’ve ever had with Jax. The first time I saw him when I was seven, I knew that I would never be the same. I see every secret smile, every caress, every time he would sneak into my bedroom window when we were teenagers, and all the times he would fly back from NYU to visit me for the weekend.
The only thing that I’m aware of is when Harper switches my empty champagne flute for a full one. I’m so thankful for her right now. It isn’t until my brother taps my shoulder that I turn away from the window.
“I take it from the tension between you two that you’re still fighting,” he murmurs.
He doesn’t ask. He states it, as if there isn’t any other option. Not able to lie to my brother, I shrug in answer.
“The talk didn’t go well then?”
“It went . . .” I struggle for words, but can’t find any. I decide to go with the truth. “It went as well as it could have I guess.”
“Ah I see,” Logan whispers.
I glance around to make sure nobody is paying any attention to us. Wrong move. My eyes seek out Jax’s. He’s nodding at something Connor said, but his gaze lands on mine. I’m ashamed to admit it takes a few seconds to shake myself out of a trance and glance away.
“You both are going to ruin a lifelong friendship from being afraid.”
“You think you know everything but you don’t, Logan. It’s not that easy. Things with Jax are complicated. Nothing is as simple as you think it is.”
I pause to collect myself. I need to stay calm and remember that we are not alone in the limo. Everyone else in here does not need to be part of this conversation. Heck, I don’t even want to be part of this conversation.
I continue, “Afraid? Afraid of what? Come on, you seem to have all the answers so tell me. What exactly am I afraid of?”
“You’re afraid of life. You’re afraid of living because they didn’t. You’re scared of anything and everything that you can do that they can’t.”
I focus on life outside the window again. I remain silent. I see the city without actually seeing anything.
“You’re wrong,” I murmur so quietly I don’t think he hears me.
“Prove it then.”
My annoying brother taps my shoulder again. Tap . . . tap . . . tap . . . Over and over. Turning my head away from the window I glare at my irritating older brother. My anger rises. He’s wrong. I’ve done everything I can to keep Jax in my life. Before I can help myself, words leave my mouth.
“I get that you care since it puts you in an awkward situation, but you should be having this conversation with him, not me! I already tried. He doesn’t want to be my friend. He’s only in my life because of you! So sorry, but you’re not always right, Logan!”
I’m met with utter silence. It takes a second too long to realize that I raised my voice. Crap! I tell myself not to look at him but it seems like I can’t control myself tonight. Jax’s mouth hangs open a little, from shock I’m sure, and his green eyes won’t meet mine. Logan says something, but I ignore him. As I watch Jax, it hits me that if I had any hopes of repairing our friendship, that is long gone. He can’t even face me. I wish that I could disappear into the leather seats. We stop moving. Perfect timing, at least I can flee and get lost in the crowd. I follow my brother out of the limo.
After about an hour of mingling with Logan, I’m finally able to make a break for it. Well, for the table since I can’t leave, at least not yet. Seizing a flute of champagne from the passing waiter, I pretend I don’t see Harper waving me over. I need to sit down. I need a breather from everyone. I haven’t seen Jax since we first arrived. Not that I’ve been searching for him or anything. He’s probably with some slut in a closet. I don’t care.
Weaving around people, I finally locate our table. I exhale when I see that nobody is sitting down yet. Useless conversations are the last thing I want to do. I have had enough of the fake bullshit people say to each other at these events to last a lifetime. I remind myself not to run as I move towards our table.
Pulling out my chair, I eye the exit. I want to get out of here. I need air. I force myself to stay seated instead of leaving. My hands shake slightly. I want to say it’s from the lack of food and the champagne, but that would be a lie. My trembling hands and need to escape is because of Jax. Always him.
I can’t stop rehashing last night in my head. It’s been almost twenty-four hours, but it feels like only seconds have passed since he told me I’m Logan’s little sister. Of course the man that I’ve been in love with forever wouldn’t think of me as anything else except for his best friend’s little sister. I thought he saw me, really saw me.
Little sister . . . little sister . . . His words are on a wheel that won’t stop tormenting me. Just thinking about all those times that I let him in, when I closed out everyone else, makes me bite my lip to keep from screaming in anger.
“Are you okay?” Connor asks me.
I look to my right as he and Harper sit down. I’m not even surprised that I didn’t notice them come over here. I’ve been lost in my head. I’ve been replaying every encounter I’ve had with Jax and attempting to view it from his perspective.
“Peachy.”
“Sounds like it,” Harper says.
“Oh shut up. Shouldn’t you be out dancing? This one,” I say, pointing to Connor, “is a fantastic dancer. His parents made him take dance classes when he was younger.”
Connor makes a show of getting up and offering Harper his hand. “Please do me the honor of this dance, Ms. Harrison. Besides, I think Addie is going to be like this for the rest of the night.”
“And please tell me, Connor, what am I being like?”
“Let’s just say that you’re not in the best of moods right now,” Harper chimes in.
“That’s a nice way of saying something else . . . I think the word you’re looking for is bitchy,” he says as he nabs Harper’s hand and steers her away.
I run my finger over the table. Tracing invisible designs. Only Connor can call me a bitch and get away with it. That’s because I know he never really means it. Connor treats me like the little sister that he’s never had, but has always wanted.
Lights are once again strung to the ceiling. I stare at the twinkling ceiling for a long time. When I finally glance away, I try to find my brother. He’s talking to someone by the stage in the middle of the room. I think she’s the event planner. A waiter comes by and replaces my empty champagne flute. I move it away and sip the water in front of me instead.
My eyes land on Connor and Harper. I watch him swing her around the dance floor for two songs. She’s clearly had lessons, too. They draw eyes to themselves with their effortless moves on the floor. When the third song begins, I trace patterns on the table again. With each second that goes by, I continue to think about last night.
Nothing, not even a ballroom full of people, can take my mind off last night. I wish that he told me how he felt in the beginning instead of waiting until now. He’s led me on for too many years, playing games. I hate that I have to remind myself to be upset with him. I have every right to be, but at the same time I don’t think I do. Yes, he’s led me on, but I shouldn’t fault him for not having feelings for me.
I need closure. I don’t want to reflect on last night and always wonder what if. What if I said something different? What if I told him it’s okay? What if I actually stopped loving him? Maybe then we could be friends. I already live my life full of “what ifs’’ with the accident; I don’t want to do that for us, too.