Page 52 of Lies You Told
I walk back to the bedroom and see Jax’s stuff everywhere. I really should have made some room for him in my space. Abandoning the shower, I get changed into yoga pants and my worn Harvard hoodie. I tie my hair on top of my head and work on moving some of my stuff around. It takes me a surprisingly short amount of time to move stuff, and I have three empty drawers. I start putting Jax’s stuff in them.
I’m in the middle of dancing to my playlist when I look up and see it’s Jax watching me.
“I was hoping to find you naked. What’s all this?” He asks, looking around the room and finding his stuff no longer piled up everywhere.
“I’ve made some space for you,” I say, slightly embarrassed. “I should have done this the first night you stayed. I’m a bad host.”
“Not at all.” He says, fighting back a smile, which tells me he agrees. “You can have these three drawers. The only place I let you have your stuff was in the bathroom.”
He comes over to me and wraps his arms around me. I am still in his arms and close my eyes as I breathe him in. He smells really good.
“Food’s ready,” he whispers, kissing me on my forehead.
“Great, I’m starving. I’ve hardly eaten all day.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know I’m going to regret it.
He holds my face in his hands, scowling at me a little. “You need to look after yourself, Chlo.”
“I know. Work just got crazy busy, then the guys all went...”
“Chlo, you need to stop hiding away from everyone.”
“But I don’t like anyone.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, and I smile.
“You know what I mean.”
“Is it really that bad?” he asks, and now he looks concerned.
I feel stupid now, putting that worried look on his face. I should never have told him how much I hate the firm I’m at.
“It’s not as bad as college,” I say as I walk out of the room.
Do I feel bad walking away? A little, but he asked the question. He should never have asked if he didn’t want to hear the answer.
Jax is sitting in bed next to me, reading through something on his iPad. He’s been distant since earlier. I know I’m a bitch, and I keep throwing it back in his face. I don’t know why I do it. I guess I’m not as over it as I thought. I really have forgiven him.
“I’m not mad at you,” I say, keeping my eyes on the book in front of me. I don’t know why I’m bothering. I’ve read the same page five times.
I feel him stiffen next to me.
“I really have forgiven you. Franchesca and I have never gone this long without talking. She’s who I can’t forgive.”
He puts the iPad down, and I feel him watching me, but I keep my eyes on my book.
“We’ve not spoken since we saw you in the restaurant a few weeks ago.”
He moves the stuff off his lap and puts them on the side of the bed. “Come here,” he motions to his lap.
I turn to look at him for the first time. He gives me a weak smile. I put my bookmark in my book and then move to face him. I watch as his chest rises and falls as he’s relaxed. He rubs his hands up and down my thighs, trying to relax me now, and it’s working.
“You forgave me. Why can’t you forgive her?”
“Because she’s hurt me more than you ever did.” I shock myself with the words coming out of my mouth. My chest starts to feel tighter, and my fingers tremble a little.
He pulls my tank top over my head. “Keep talking, get it all off your chest, and I’ll give you what you need to feel.”
My eyes fill with tears. He gets me. He really fucking gets me.
