Finding Dandelion(4)By: Lex Martin
She ignores my comment and shakes the ball. “Is there one perfect girl out there for Jax Avery who will help him get past his man-whoring ways?” She narrows her eyes as she reads the message that floats to the top. “It is decidedly so.”
Nick barks out a laugh. “How much did you drink? Dad is going to kick my ass if you go home tomorrow with a hangover.” He goes back to his hand and murmurs, “’Cause you’d have to be drunk if you think that’s in the cards for Jax.”
Sammy hiccups and then groans like it hurt. She turns to me. “Doesn’t it feel empty? Don’t you want something with meaning?”
This girl needs to stop watching so many chick flicks.
I take another drink. “It has meaning. It means I get laid with no strings. That’s a beautiful thing.”
She makes a face like I just took a crap on her dinner. I don’t have the energy to explain why relationships are such a bad idea, but if she were to take a two-minute look at my parents, she’d be on my side.
I reach over for a slice of pizza and ignore the hollowness in my chest. “What time is our team meeting tomorrow?”
Nick squints at me. “It’s at three, but you should get there early. I hear Coach Patterson is a hardass.”
“I can handle it.” I continue scrolling through my phone, contemplating how to spend the next twenty-four hours before soccer completely consumes my life. I’m thinking Katie tonight and maybe Lanie tomorrow afternoon.
As I’m about to look up Katie’s number, my screen lights up. Natasha. Even better. We’re friends with benefits. Minus the friends part.
“What are you doing tonight?”
Smiling, I write back. “Making you scream my name as I fuck you senseless.”
Not a minute goes by before she responds. “Perfect. I’ll be by in twenty.”
Sammy sighs at me from across the table like she knows what I’m planning. “Some day, a girl is going to kick you on your ass, Jax. I hope I’m here to see it.”
Why is a teenager lecturing me about my sex life? “In your dreams, kid. I don’t get attached.”
I learned that lesson a long time ago. Girls are like beer. Here to bookend the important things.
I press the button on my phone, and the screen lights up. Only forty-five minutes until practice. Shit. Nick’s warning that I should arrive early grates on me. Why is practice in the middle of the afternoon? My workouts are so much better first thing in the morning.
I’ve been in a pissy mood since last night. Natasha and I didn’t get into our usual groove. Yeah, we both got off, but it felt like work.
Natasha is almost six feet of Russian model, and she usually knows what I like. We’ve been hooking up for the last year. Our arrangement works. We meet up, have a drink or two, share a few laughs, fuck and go our separate ways. She’s not clingy, and she’s rich too, so I know she’s not after my trust fund. Why I’m not fucking euphoric right now is beyond me.
My dark mood gets darker as the slurping sound increases. I look down and try not to glare.
“Doll? We gotta wrap this up.” I’m not good with names. Doll is just easier. A one-size-fits-all nickname.
Tara or Tammy or Tamara looks up with a mouth full of me and tries to smile.
God, I’m an asshole.
I pull my dick out of her mouth, carefully avoiding the gleaming row of teeth, and tuck it back into my jeans.
“Sorry, Jax.” Her eyes dart around. I place my hands on her shoulders and help her stand. Not every girl is good at giving head, but it’s something that should be taught in school along with making pancakes. Two very important skills.
“No worries. I didn’t realize it was so late. Maybe we could hang out some other time.” Or not.
Her eyes brighten. It takes everything in me to smile and hug her before I grab my keys off the coffee table.
When I reach the door, I see it in her eyes. She wants a kiss. Yeah, not happening. And not for the reason you think. This has nothing to do with her deepthroating my junk and everything to do with how she drooled all over my BMW M-5 Hurricane. I could almost see the dollar signs popping out of her eyes. I don’t need that shit. I may be pre-law, but I’ve majored in avoiding gold-diggers.