"How can I be surprised?" I asked angrily.
"It's not like you know better, or can do anything different right? Like actually love me or something."
"Or something." He responded uncaringly.
"That's it Jax!" I smacked him. Hard.
So hard in fact, my nail caught him just right enough to cut his face. He ran his long almost Skelton like finger across the scrape looked at the blood and sucked it off his finger. "Nice, Relan. You do know how I love a bloody chase." He responded ever so slightly amused. Dang, I need to trim those I thought. Such a weird thought to have in a heated moment almost like I've gone through this one, two, or even three times. Countless is the amount. He screws up, acts like he doesn't care, we split, I act reckless, he gets drunk and calls me, and the next morning we are lying in bed unclothed like nothing happened.
Yet, it always happens. It's a sort of love rollercoaster I suppose, and not the type I want to be on. Why do I do this to myself what is so freaking special about Jax? I'm staring at him for what seems like ages as he's looking at his finger nails like they're the most interesting thing he's seen since the discovery of a cure for cancer, not that he cares about the betterment of humanity. Literally, he's a demon. So I'm pretty sure he doesn't care about anything at all. Not truly anyways.
Jax is a whole another breed. God, I love and hate him all in one breath.
Let me paint a picture. Jax is 6"4, golden eyes, you know the kind that shift in lighting or mood…almost unnatural, dirty blond curly hair, and looks almost porcelain in skin color. He looks like he has seen a gym, but not so much so you believe he lives in one, that V cut could cut through any doubts like a sharp knife, and don't get me started on his tattoos…I'm a sucker for tattoos. He's so captivating.
" Get out" I say pointedly. "What?!" He asks. Is that shock I see on his face? "I said get out Jax." I say again with more conviction. Without a word he gets up grabs his leather jacket and leaves looking back only for a moment with the wounded animal hidden in his eyes, before closing the door tail tucked behind him. "You'll regret this" he says in hushed tones through the door, but his voice carries as if he is standing right next to me. Chills run from the back of my neck and work their way down. I can't stand when he does that.
God, I can't think straight when he's sitting there; angry or not his scent is intoxicating, his looks even more so, and his bad boy carefree personality is what was hook, line, and sinker his way into my life.
I always had a weakness for the bad boys, even in school. Jax was one of many I had a whirlwind of a relationship, or lack there of with. However, he was the most permanent and powerful one. Also, the first actual demon.
Images of our three long years flash before my eyes. Endless conversations, of who we were, who we are, and wanted to be. Smells of rain and freshly cut grass as he kissed me for the first time outside in the cold air after leaving a party together. Leaves falling almost in a halo around him as we lay on hill in our favorite thinking spot, and don't forget the sex. Hot, passionate, rip each others clothes, seeing sparks, and always wanting more type of sex.
"I need to stop this, and now" I say out loud catching myself traveling to that place I go when I don't want to let go. I unravel the strand of dark raven hair from my index finger, stand up in haste grab my keys, lock the door, and get into my beat up 63 Mercedes with no real destination in mind. I just want to drive and get my mind off of all that is Jax.
Cheating, lying, uncaring, not to mention sleeping with my now ex best friend of 16 years Jax.
You know the one born and raised in hell Jax?
The one I should have never ended up with…yeah that Jax.
I bang the steering wheel in frustration. I'm going to give it a few weeks. No answering his calls, no forgiving him, no listening to him beg, and then I will…no I must move on. I promised myself.
Sure I'm a mere human that knows to much, but he knows I'll never tell…doesn't he?
He must know.
Who would believe me anyways. Sure every ex talks their share of crap and makes their share of accusations, but to believe me about him legitimately being a demon; that would be absurd. Or would it? Ugh, who knows anymore I need to get home before I wreck or worse, drive long enough till convince myself I still want him. I pass signs for donut shops and late night coffee stops that all seem to blur and swirl together. Man, I'm so tired all of a sudden.
I make my way back home.
Is it really 2am?? I can never seem to keep track of time anymore.
I can't believe I drove for 3 hours.
I'm exhausted, with dark circles under my glacier blue eyes. A thin line where my full lips usually sit form as I stare back at the exasperated , exhausted, angry, and deeply sad stranger staring back at me from the reflection in the mirror. Can this really be it? I think. "Is this my life now?" I shake my head knowing asking it out loud won't change anything.
I shower the day away letting the hot water burn my skin to a fleshy pink. Feeling it seep into every pore of my sunbathed skin. Hoping the water will make sense of it all for me so I don't have to. It won't work, but one can dream. Feeling slight relief I turn off the water, dry off wrapping a towel around my hair, abandoning all skin care regimens, put on my favorite silk lacy pajamas, and jump on my bed to burrito myself in a mound of blankets. I inevitably decide to curl up with my favorite book, which was a comfort place away from reality, and doze soundly to the poem "Tiger, Tiger!".
Jax far from the thoughts in my mind, or at least that's what I thought.