Page 24

24

MADISON

I should've known Jaxon wouldn't go the traditional route for our first date.

As he pulls into the parking lot of my favorite taco shack—the one with the peeling paint and the neon sign that flickers between TACOS and COS—I can't help but grin.

"Wow," I tease, glancing over at him. "You really went all out for me, huh?"

Jaxon's eyes catch mine, that familiar hazel gaze warm with something new.

The setting sun casts golden light across his face as he smirks.

"Only the best for you, Mads."

I roll my eyes, but my stomach flutters all the same.

We hop out and head toward the ordering window, the familiar scent of grilled meat and fresh tortillas filling the air.

Jaxon doesn't even look at the menu before rattling off our order.

"Two carne asada tacos, two al pastor, extra salsa, and two strawberry milkshakes."

I blink up at him, surprised. "You remembered my order?"

He shoots me a look, like I just asked if the sky was blue. "Of course I did." His voice is casual, but there's an intensity in his eyes that makes my breath catch.

When our order is ready, I reach for the bag, but he beats me to it, thanking the cashier before sliding a second brown bag onto the tray.

I frown. "What's that?"

His smirk grows as he lifts the bag slightly. "Three churros."

I narrow my eyes. "You only ordered one."

He shrugs, completely unbothered. "I got two for you."

I stare at him, something tight constricting in my chest. It's such a small thing—a few extra churros—but the thoughtfulness behind it hits me harder than it should.

"So, let me get this straight—you're taking me to a taco shack for our very fancy first date, and ordering extra churros for me?"

He winks as he grabs the tray and heads back toward the truck. "You're catching on."

I shake my head, following him, but there's no stopping the stupid smile tugging at my lips.

I don't realize where we're going until Jaxon pulls back off the freeway, taking a familiar exit.

The beach.

The realization sends a rush of warmth through me. The beach has always been my place, our place , right from the start.

He backs into a spot, leaving the tailgate facing the ocean, then hops out before grabbing the bags of food. I watch him through the windshield, struck by how natural this all feels, despite the newness of it.

I slide out of the passenger seat and watch as Jaxon climbs into the bed of the truck, where he's arranged a pile of blankets and pillows into a cozy nest.

Then, he holds a hand out to me, smirking. "My lady."

I snort, shaking my head. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, you're still here." His eyes soften, the teasing note in his voice giving way to something more vulnerable .

I roll my eyes, but I take his hand anyway, letting him help me up. His grip is strong, steady, his skin warm against mine.

We settle against the pile of blankets, unwrapping our tacos and eating in comfortable silence as the waves crash in the distance. The food is perfect, just like I remember, and the milkshake is thick enough to make me work for it through the straw.

Jaxon watches me struggle, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Having some trouble there?"

I glare at him, still mid-sip. "Shut up."

He chuckles, shaking his head and reaching for the bag of churros. He hands me one without a word, like he already knows I need something sweet with my sweet, and I accept it without hesitation.

We eat, we talk, we exist in a way that feels natural—like this isn't new at all. He tells me about practice, about how TK tripped over his own feet and blamed it on Carter's cleats. I tell him about my latest disaster in the kitchen with Lyla.

The sun starts to dip lower, turning the sky a deeper shade of gold, and I exhale softly, staring out at the waves.

"It's so beautiful," I murmur, my voice quieter than before.

Jaxon doesn't answer right away, but when he does, it’s soft, full of hesitation. "Yeah. Definitely the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

When I glance over at him, he's looking at me, not the sunset, and the intensity in his eyes steals my breath.

Because I know he's not talking about the view in front of us.

Jaxon's looking at me like I'm the only thing in his world right now, like I'm more than just his best friend—more than just the girl he's known forever. The fading sunlight bathes his face in gold, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the slight curl at the corner of his mouth, the flecks of amber in his eyes I've always pretended not to notice.

I swallow, tearing my gaze away, forcing my focus back on the ocean. "So…" I clear my throat, trying to sound casual. "Does this count? "

Jaxon shifts beside me. "What?"

I gesture toward the beach, the truck, the empty wrappers and half-melted milkshakes between us. "This. Our date." I lift a brow, daring him to tease me. "Or does eating tacos and watching the sunset not meet your requirements?"

His smirk deepens, and before I can react, he leans in, close enough that I feel the warmth of him, close enough that my pulse skips.

"You tell me, Mads," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that low, husky tone that seems to vibrate through my entire body. "Does it feel like a date?"

My throat goes dry.

Because yeah. Yeah, it does.

It feels like something more than just us hanging out, more than just the easy, effortless comfort we've always had. There's an electricity humming between us that's always been there, but now, it's impossible to ignore, charged with years of almosts and what-ifs.

The second I let my eyes drop to his lips—those lips I've secretly wondered about for longer than I'd ever admit—he moves.

His hand finds my cheek, fingertips brushing my jaw, tilting my face just enough. His touch is gentle but sure, like he's afraid I might break or run away, but it’s confident enough to make it clear what he wants, what he's always wanted.

His breath is warm against my skin, mingling with mine as he hovers there for just a heartbeat, giving me one last chance to pull away. The scent of him—salt air, something spicy, and that indefinable essence that's just Jaxon—surrounds me, makes my head spin.

And when he leans in that last inch?—

I don't stop him.

I don't want to.

His lips press against mine, and everything else fades away—the beach, the sunset, the years of hesitation. It's slow and deliberate at first, like he's staking a claim. He's been waiting for this, holding himself back, giving me time—too much time .

His lips are softer than I expected, but the pressure is firm, certain. This isn't a question—it's a declaration. One hand cradles my face like I'm something precious, while the other slides to my waist, his fingers splaying across my lower back, drawing me closer with a gentle insistence that makes my heart thunder in my chest.

I sigh into the kiss, my fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring myself to him as something inside me finally gives way. All the excuses I've made over the years crumble under the weight of this moment, of his touch.

The kiss deepens naturally, his head tilting to fit more perfectly against mine, his hand at my waist drawing me even closer until I'm practically in his lap, the heat of his body pressing against mine. He tastes like cinnamon sugar from the churros and something uniquely him, and I think wildly that I could become addicted to this, to him.

When we finally pull apart, both of us are breathless, my heart pounding so hard, I can feel it in my fingertips, my hands still clutching at his hoodie like I'm afraid to let go. If I release him, I fear this might all disappear.

Jaxon smirks, his thumb brushing over my cheek, tracing a path of fire across my skin. His eyes are darker now, pupils dilated, and the naked want in them nearly steals my breath all over again.

"Yeah, Mads," he says, his voice low, rough with an emotion I'm finally brave enough to name. "This definitely counts."

The truck rumbles softly as Jaxon pulls onto the highway, the glow of passing street lights flickering through the windows. The salty breeze from the beach still lingers in the air, mixing with the faint scent of him—clean soap, worn cotton, a hint of citrus and amber.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel okay. Better than okay. I feel content—happy and safe.

No tension. No overthinking. Just the steady hum of the truck, the comfortable warmth of his presence beside me, and the quiet realization that I like this.

I want this. I want us.

The soft strum of a familiar song fills the cab, and I smile before I can stop myself.

"Really?" I tease, tilting my head toward him. "Rascal Flatts?"

Jaxon smirks, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easily on my thigh. "What? You love them."

I roll my eyes, but I don't argue. He's right—I do love them. The fact that he remembered, that he knew without asking, makes me smile even more…

He taps his fingers against the wheel, nodding toward me. "Go on, Mads. You know you wanna sing it."

I scoff. "Absolutely not."

"Come on, don't leave me hanging." He nudges my knee lightly with his own. "I know you know every damn word."

I press my lips together, trying to fight the grin tugging at them. But then the chorus hits, and I sigh dramatically before giving in.

My voice is soft at first, barely above the music, but Jaxon smirks, turning the volume down just enough to make me sing louder.

"There she is," he teases, and before I know it, he's singing with me, our voices blending into the easy warmth of the night.

The drive back feels short. Far too soon, Jaxon is turning into my apartment complex, pulling into a parking spot near my building.

I unclip my seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. "You don't have to walk me up, Jax. I can?—"

"Nah." His voice is casual, like it's not even up for debate. "I'll walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight and all that."

My breath catches for half a second, and he just smirks, sending me a wink.

That fucking smirk.

Then, before I can argue, he's already out of the truck, moving to open my door .

I slide out, and he doesn't hesitate—his hand finding mine, lacing our fingers together like it's something we've done regularly.

His grip is steady, his thumb brushing against my knuckles, sending small shivers up my spine.

Neither of us speaks, and maybe that should feel awkward, but it doesn't. It feels natural, like the space between us has always been meant to disappear.

When we finally stop at my door, I turn toward him, pulse racing.

Jaxon looks down at me, his hazel eyes dark under the dim light, his free hand lifting slowly, brushing his fingertips along my jaw. The touch is light, hesitant, like he's waiting for me to pull away.

I don't. I can't.

His hand slips to the back of my neck, his fingers threading into my hair, and then—slowly, intentionally—he leans in, his breath warm against my lips.

And I meet him halfway.

The kiss is slow at first, soft and certain, like we're both memorizing the feel of each other. Jaxon deepens the kiss, his fingers tightening in my hair, his body pressing just slightly closer, and I feel the breath leave my lungs.

By the time we finally pull apart, I'm dizzy, my lips tingling.

The look in his eyes—dark, intense—nearly undoes me.

Jaxon smirks, his thumb brushing once more over my cheek.

"Night, Mads."

I swallow, my heart still racing, and somehow, I manage a soft, "Night, Jax."

He lingers for half a second longer, like he doesn't want to leave, before stepping back, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket as he heads down the walkway toward his truck.

I stand there for a second, still trying to breathe, still trying to process that I just kissed my best friend. Everything between us has changed irrevocably.

"OH MY GOD. "

Lyla launches at me the second I close the door, grabbing my arms and shaking me dramatically.

"You kissed him, didn't you?" she gasps, her eyes wild with excitement.

I barely have time to react before she screams into a pillow, then snaps back up like she just won the lottery.

"Oh my God, was it good? Tell me everything."

I groan, pressing my fingers to my temples, but I can't stop the smile from spreading across my lips. "Lyla?—"

"YOU TOTALLY DID."

I sigh, finally relenting as I drop onto the couch. "Yeah. I did."

Lyla lets out an excited squeal, flopping onto the cushions beside me, her hands clasped in front of her like she's about to pray. "And? Details. Now."

I roll my eyes, but I can't stop the warmth in my chest as I replay it, the way he touched me, the way he looked at me before he kissed me.

"It was...perfect."

Lyla smacks my arm, grinning. "Finally!"

She pauses, tilting her head. "Sooo...you guys are still just friends, huh?"

I open my mouth?—

And then, I immediately close it, deciding there's no point in lying.

Lyla grins, her voice full of teasing satisfaction.

"Yeah. Just friends, my ass."