Clearly, I was wrong.
Jase widens his eyes and smiles cheekily. “Hello. Is this the real Samantha? Because I like her more than the fairy floss bullshit you spin in front of Dornan.”
I smile back, but my smile is sour. “Look,” I breathe, leaning over the table, “I like your father, don’t get me wrong. He’s given me a place to stay and money to sort myself out. But–”
“What?” Jase teases, swinging dangerously far back on the chair before slamming the front two legs back onto the ground so that his face is closer to mine. “You don’t like being cooped up inside while Pop goes off with his merry band?”
I drop the smile. “Something like that.”
Jase sniffs and nods, scanning the room. “I get it. This isn’t what you signed up for.”
“Exactly,” I say. “I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong. I’m just a little … overwhelmed right now.”
Jase narrows his eyes, seemingly in deep thought. “Be careful around here,” he says. “Things – people – have a way of getting hurt if they don’t do what they’re told.”
Please Pop, please don’t, they’re hurting her, please stop, STOP STOP STOP.
I just nod, chewing on my lip. “Thanks for the tip.”
“So, you hate storms?” Jase says, cocking his head to the side.
He is still trying to figure me out, I think. He still suspects I’m more than just a fuck buddy of his father’s.
“I hate humidity,” I shrug. “That’s all.”
“Huh.” He is silent for a moment, then stands abruptly. “You wanna come up to the roof for a while?”
Isn’t that where the fucking storm is?
“I mean, unless you’re scared.” It’s an open challenge that he extends to me with an outstretched palm and a cocky grin. Asshole.
I smile, putting my hand in his and standing up. “Only if you straighten my hair afterwards,” I say playfully.
“Ahhh… deal? I guess? How the hell do you straighten your hair anyway?”
“With a flatiron,” I smile. “Game?”
“I guess,” he says, not looking too convinced. As he leads me back to the hallway, he reaches his free arm around the doorway and snipes a bottle of Jack from the kitchen.
“For the light show,” he winks, waving the bottle.
I just smile a lie as my stomach flips and my heart sinks all in one.
Eleven
The clubhouse has few windows and a lot of soundproofing, a dream for a girl who is terrified of thunder and lightning.
The minute we get to the top of the stairwell and Jase opens the fire escape, I am cringing at the bright flashes of light and the menacing thunder that rips through every fiber of my being.
Once the door is open, the noise of the wind and thunder becomes deafening, and I cower at the prospect of going out into it.
“Come on,” Jase yells above the din, pulling my hand. “Trust me!”
Trust him? Of course I trust him. He risked his goddamn life to try and save mine all those years ago.
But does Sammi trust him? Should she?
“Fuck it,” I breathe, unplanting my stubborn feet and following him outside into the howling wind and neon flashes. It’s got to be better that being stuck downstairs with my mother.
I squint my eyes, cringing against the sudden assault of stinging, sharp raindrops that are almost solid enough to be considered hail. They bite at my skin like tiny bullets, baying for my blood.
“Why the hell do you want to be out here?” I yell at Jase. He tugs my hand and we keep running. The visibility is terrible and I can barely see what’s in front of me, apart from thick sheets of icy rain.
Lightning strikes uncomfortably close and I scream, practically jumping on Jase. He laughs, pointing at something in front of us. At first, I don’t realize what it is – it’s a room without walls, and it’s not wet inside.
It’s not magic, it’s a room made entirely of glass. A greenhouse.
How odd, I think, and squeal again when another bolt of lightning strikes less than a hundred feet away. I am practically glued to Jase like a spider monkey stuck to his back.
I breathe a sigh of relief as he opens a door in the glass and pulls me inside, closing it behind us. The storm still rages around us, but at least I feel a little more protected. The room is pretty big, at least twenty feet across and with a stunning view of the Venice Beach coastline.
“What is this place?” I ask. “A marijuana farm?”
Jase smiles. “Used to be. Until the cops started doing aerial surveillance. Now it’s my hangout when I get sick of being down there with my idiot brothers.”
“Do you bring all your father’s whores up here?” I ask him, wringing the extra moisture out of my long brown hair.
Jase chuckles. “Did you just call yourself a whore?”
I smile wickedly. “Let’s keep ourselves firmly planted in reality, shall we? I’m sleeping with your father so he’ll let me stay here in his club. What else would you call me?”
Jase raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know. A girl who had to make some hard decisions to protect herself?”
I shrug, shivering. “That’s a much nicer way of saying it,” I concede.
“Here.” Jase shrugs out of his long-sleeved leather jacket and puts it around my shoulders. I can’t help but notice that the jacket is plain, devoid of any patches or club insignia. That must piss Dornan right off.
“Thanks,” I say, a thrill coursing through me as his fingertips brush my shoulder.
I am amazed. Even after six years, even with him oblivious to who I actually am, there is a chemistry between us that cracks and fizzes like the storm that rages all around us.
“Take a seat,” Jase says, pulling out a couple of upended milk crates. He sits on one and produces a half-empty bag of pretzels to go with the bottle of Jack at his feet. He munches on a pretzel before offering me the bag.
I take it, eating a pretzel and watching as he unscrews the whiskey and takes a long, deep drink. I imagine how it must burn his throat, his tongue, his lips.
His lips.
“Do you always start drinking at ten in the morning?” I ask him.
He grins cheekily and looks at me from underneath his thick black eyelashes. He has his mother’s dimpled smile, and for that I am eternally grateful.
“Only when I’m babysitting whores,” he jokes, offering me the bottle. I take a swig and the liquid burns all the way down to my stomach.
“You don’t even know me,” I say, popping another pretzel in my mouth. “I don’t even think you like me. Why bother bringing me up here?”
Jase takes the bottle back and takes a swig, gulping the burning liquid down. He studies me for a moment, giving me an uneasy feeling in my belly.
Because he looks at me like he does know me.
“You remind me of a girl I used to know,” he says quietly, looking away.
“Oh, really?” I ask casually, a river of pent-up tears burning a hole in my fucking heart. “Where is she now?”
He looks at the ground for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “She died.”
I swallow back the enormous lump in my throat. I can’t cry. If I cry, this is all over. And it can’t be over, not yet.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my carefully laid plans threatening to shatter to pieces like the flimsy glass building we are sheltered within.
“It’s fine,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “It was a long time ago.”
We sit there in silence for awhile, munching on pretzels and sharing the Jack. After awhile I start to feel relaxed.