Page 28

I fight back a smile, though, because he’s here, in front of me, asking me to go somewhere with him. Not her. Maybe they’re not together anymore?
Maybe I don’t care?
Fuck. I do care. “Uh.” I try to breathe easy. “I should shower.”
Jaxon notices the smile I can’t hide. He’s fully aware he’s got a two-strike count on my willpower, all because he’s standing here looking cute. “He’s got a shower. It’s a steam shower, too,” he adds, trying to close.
“I don’t know what a steam shower is, but it sounds nice.”
He steps closer. He smells like dryer sheets and the wind coming off Lake Washington. I know, wind doesn’t have a scent, but trust me—it totally does. Fresh air, grass, rain… everything outside, and that’s exactly how Jaxon smells. Anyway. He’s close enough I could touch him, and I want to, but I resist.
“Do you remember prom?”
My stomach drops. A memory surfaces: me and him in a hotel shower, steam everywhere, my dress on the floor, his tie in my hands, me begging him never to stop loving me.
My breath catches, because he did stop loving me. “I have some memories of that night.”
“Well, the offer’s there.” He smirks, but there’s desire in his eyes as they drop to my lips, then back up. “I’ll even feed ya dinner.” He gives me a gentle shove, like he’s not taking no for an answer.
“I’m in.” I say it without question and head toward the bus stop.
I know what you’re thinking and no, I’m not asking about her. If I don’t ask, I won’t know, and I can’t be sad, right?
Right.
Jaxonand I take the Route 49 bus from the U-District. We’re college kids. No, we don’t have cars on campus—we take the bus everywhere. Parking’s a nightmare, and with a U-PASS, why bother? Seattle parking prices are criminal anyway.
If you’ve ever been in Seattle at night, you know the city buses are full of homeless people, drugs, and all kinds of crazy shit. Jaxon practically shields me from the sketchy passengers as we make our way down Broadway through Capitol Hill.
The 49 takes us through the U-District, past the sketchy Jack in the Box, through Capitol Hill (don’t stop here at night unless you want to see some shit), and then downtown where Kellan lives near Pioneer Square.
Jaxon tenses when a man in hot pants, flip-flops, a poncho, and a sombrero sits beside us. He reeks of urine, cigarettes, and weed. He’s got an oddly shaped black garbage bag he can’t shove under the seat.
He starts talking to Jaxon about going to see his mother for the first time in years and bringing her a gift.
“Oh,” is all Jaxon says.
After a story about his dad going hunting and never coming back, I start worrying about the contents of that black bag. I’ve seen the Netflix documentaries about serial killers—trust no one.
And then—like I feared—he peels back the top of his garbage bag to reveal a severed deer head.
Yes, you read that right. A severed deer head.
Jaxon stares at the man, like he can’t believe this is really happening. “Wow, that’s nice of you.” His eyes flick to mine and I fight back laughter.
The man nods, covers the head again, and pushes it under his seat. “Yeah, I think she’ll love it.”
I want to ask so many questions, but I don’t. I really don’t want to know if he’s got more dead animals, or worse, some part of his missing dad in that bag.
Deer head guy gets off around Pike/Pine, and Jaxon sighs. “We should have taken an Uber.”
I laugh. “Nah, this is more fun.”
“Mhm.”
That’s not even the weirdest part of our bus ride.
Next up, a guy sits beside me as we pass the First Hill Streetcar stop, and Jaxon immediately wraps his arm around me. This dude reeks of urine and cigarettes, hasn’t showered in who knows how long, and is wearing all black. I’m honestly afraid to look.