Chapter Two-Hundred Thirty-Six: Celeste's Gift

Chapter 236

Celeste’s Gift

The afternoon sun had crept across the bedroom floor, turning the sheets into a warm, sun-drenched island. Fabien was sprawled diagonally across the bed, one arm draped over his eyes and his mouth slightly open, dead to the world after his late-night excursion of working late and making love to Celeste.

Celeste, fully refreshed and dressed in a denim skirt, studded belt, black tank top, and a spiked collar, stood over him like a mischievous specter. She had spent the last hour puttering around the house, and now, seeing him so peaceful and defenseless, an idea sparked behind her dark, expressive eyes.

She crept to the foot of the bed, her movements silent, and knelt down.

Fabien’s feet were sticking out from under the duvet, his heels resting against the mattress. Celeste’s grin widened. She knew this was his absolute undoing. With a predatory grace, she reached out and began to lightly rake her fingernails along the sensitive arches of his soles.

Fabien didn’t even have time to register a dream. He let out a sharp, strangled yelp, his entire body jerking upward as if he’d been struck by lightning.

Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHT?!”

He gasped, his eyes flying open and his legs thrashing blindly against the sheets. He tried to scramble backward, but Celeste was relentless, her fingers dancing rhythmically across his soles in a flurry of tickles.

Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHOHOHOHO!”

Celeste: “Wakey-wakey, sleeping beauty!”

She chirped, laughing as he curled into a ball, trying and failing to cover his feet.

Fabien: “CEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHELESTE?! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAAP!!”

He wheezed, his voice thick with sleep and hysterical laughter. He was completely helpless. He tried to swat at her, but she was too fast, dodging his hands and digging her thumbs into his arches with surgical precision.

Fabien: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAA!!”

Celeste: “Are you going to get up and make me breakfast, or am I going to have to keep torturing you until sunset?”

She teased, her eyes sparkling with wicked delight as he kicked his legs uncontrollably, the bed frame rattling with the force of his giggles.

Fabien: “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! OKAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

He choked out, finally managing to roll off the edge of the bed to escape her reach, landing on the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and plaid pajama pants. He knelt there, gasping for air, his hair a total disaster and his face flushed a deep, embarrassed shade of pink. He clasped his hand over his chest.

Fabien: “You know…, I will exact revenge.”

He glared at her, but the grin that was spreading across his face ruined any chance of looking intimidating. Celeste just stood up, smoothed her skirt, and did a dramatic curtsy, her hair swaying with the movement.

Celeste: “I’d love to see you try, handsome.”

She playfully stuck her tongue out.

Fabien rose from the bed and stood over her. He leaned in and kissed her deeply, draping his arms over her.

Fabien: “I love you.”

He whispered.

Celeste: “I love you, too.”

She brushed her lips against his ear, which tickled him slightly.

Fabien: “Hehehehehe…”

~

Jaxon lay in his queen-size bed alone, his red silk sheets draped over his naked body. This was the part about being an Etheressum he hated the most: the hearing. He hated hearing Fabien make his Green Queen laugh, hearing them have sex, and hearing her genuinely happy with him. What does he have that I don’t? He wondered bitterly.

He clasped his hand over his eyes and rubbed them. I gave up so much for her, and she went with HIM, he thought.

He angrily threw the sheets off himself and stood up, baring it all. He went into the bathroom to use the toilet, brush his teeth, and shower.

~

When Jaxon stepped out, he draped his silk red dragon robe over himself and tied the sash. He stepped into his living room and raked his fingers through his hair. His eyes widened when he saw Tristan sitting in his living room, thumbing through his fanzines. He wore a navy blue waistcoat, a white pressed shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a black tie, navy pants, and black sheer socks.

Jaxon: “Tristan! What brings you by?”

He smiled a bit. Tristan closed the fanzine and tossed it on the coffee table. He turned to Jaxon and smiled at him.

Tristan: “Just checking in on you. How have you been doing after that ordeal with Narcisse?”

Jaxon ran his hand over his hair and sat beside Tristan.

Jaxon: “I don’t know. I butt heads with Jordi for dating Lena, and I hear that ASSHOLE TROLL, Fabien, fucking my Green Queen! How do you think I feel?”

He huffed. Tristan gazed intently at him.

Jaxon: “I told Celeste and Fabien I had feelings for Chelsea.”

Tristan nodded.

Tristan: “I take it that didn’t go as well as you hoped?”

Jaxon: “Nope!”

He said bitterly.

Jaxon: “Celeste hates me, and Fabien got what he wanted!”

He laughed a hollow laugh.

Tristan: “He did?”

He raised an eyebrow at him.

Jaxon: “He’s having sex with Celeste! Of course, he did!”

He angrily rose and paced around.

Tristan: “Jaxon, there is no way to sugarcoat this, but you have been neglecting Celeste for a while, especially after the events of Seashell Cove. Did you think she would wait forever for something that isn’t there? Why are you hanging onto her?”

He challenged.

Tristan: “You told me you didn’t want to be in a relationship with her.”

Jaxon threw his arms up.

Jaxon: “Not with HIM!”

He pointed in the direction of Fabien’s house.

Tristan: “Jaxon, you had every opportunity to repair things with Celeste before she and Fabien grew closer. You didn’t. You told me the other night you were done with her, and now you want her back? Is this ‘I don’t want you, but I don’t want others to have you’?”

He asked firmly. Jaxon clicked his tongue and looked away.

Jaxon: “I don’t want him to win.”

Tristan drew a long, exasperated breath.

Tristan: “...This isn’t about winning or losing. You neglected your relationship with Celeste, and you neglected her during our trip to Seashell Cove. I was the one who took notice that Celeste was sleeping a lot. You already lost her, and it has nothing to do with Fabien.”

He added for good measure. Jaxon pressed his forehead against the wall and pounded it. He knew Tristan was right. He knew what he told him on Fen’s birthday party. It didn’t hurt less, and hurt more to admit it was his undoing.

Tristan surveyed his movements, and his eyelids dipped.

Tristan: “If you love her, you’d want her to be happy.”

Jaxon pivoted on his heel so quickly he almost toppled over.

Jaxon: “Oh, yeah?! What about Deimos with you?! He never let you go!”

He snapped. Tristan shot him a quizzical glance.

Tristan: “We’re not discussing Deimos; we’re discussing you. Pointing out Deimos’ flaws—that I am well aware of—doesn’t absolve you of what you’re doing right now.”

He said firmly.

Tristan: “Jordi doesn’t want you dating Lena. If you’re holding a torch for someone else, I can understand why he feels this way! If you cannot let Celeste go, don’t hurt Lena. Don’t lead her into thinking there might be something when there is nothing, as you did with Celeste.”

He explained sternly. Jaxon turned to him with fury.

Jaxon: “What about YOU?! YOU led Lena on when you wanted to get back with Deimos!”

He flared hotly. Tristan narrowed his eyes on Jaxon.

Tristan: “I did no such thing, Jaxon. I was doing niceties for a friend. If she or others are reading too much into my actions, that’s not on me.”

He said coolly. Jaxon scoffed.

Jaxon: “She chose me over you. I guess the only one who will always fawn over you is Deimos.”

Tristan gripped the sofa, his fingers digging into the fabric as veins of frost began to spread across the upholstery. He glared hotly at Jaxon and rose.

Tristan: “If I were truly making moves, Jaxon, she would have picked ME!”

He thundered as the living room’s temperature plummeted and frost formed on the walls. Jaxon’s smugness turned to fear as he backed away.

Noah entered the living room.

Noah: “Is everything okay?”

Tristan swiftly turned to Noah. The frost began to dissipate, and the temperature slowly returned to normal. Tristan adjusted his tie and dusted himself off.

Tristan: “Noah! What a pleasant surprise! I didn’t think you would be here.”

He smiled tightly. Noah gazed at him.

Noah: “I work for Jaxon.”

Tristan: “I see. I thought you worked for Percy.”

Noah gazed at him.

Tristan: “...I should go. Nice seeing you, Noah.”

He marched to the doorway, slipped his feet into his black wingtip Oxfords, and tied his shoes. He quickly went out the door. Noah didn’t take his eyes off him.

Jaxon: “His ego is on par with fuckin’ Fabien’s!”

He huffed and marched to his bedroom. Noah turned around and watched him go.

~

Fabien was in his kitchen. He took out a four-pound bag of chicken wings. He wore a Rush band tee and a green plaid shirt over it, jeans, and flip-flops. Celeste danced around the kitchen.

Celeste: “YAY! WINGS!”

She cheered.

They heard a knock at the door. Celeste ran to get it and brightened when she saw Tristan. Fabien smiled seeing him.

Fabien: “Hey, Tristan, come on in.”

Tristan: “Is this a bad time?”

Fabien shook his head.

Fabien: “Nah, I’m making my babe and me some wings. Do you want some?”

Tristan: “I don’t want to intrude.”

He said and sat at the kitchen table.

Fabien: “Nah, man, I eat a lot, she eats a lot, and we know you do. Come on and join us for dinner.”

He smiled. Tristan smiled a bit.

Tristan: “All right.”

He prepared a spice blend in a small bowl, starting with half a tablespoon each of kosher salt, onion powder, smoked paprika, and ancho chile pepper. Next, he stirred in three-quarters of a tablespoon of brown sugar. To this, he added three-quarters of a teaspoon each of cumin, paprika, and chili powder, followed by half a teaspoon each of dried mustard, cayenne pepper, and garlic powder. To finish the mixture, he tossed in a quarter teaspoon each of oregano, ground thyme, and black pepper. He mixed it together, then dumped it into the bag of chicken wings and shook it up.

He got a can of beer from the fridge and some sweet onions, along with buttermilk, flour, seafood seasoning, and the spices he had out.

Fabien: “Want beer-battered onion rings, too?”

Tristan: “Yes!”

He smiled.

Celeste: “I love his onion rings so much!”

She purred.

~

The trio gathered on the backyard patio, settling around a table shaded by an umbrella. Fabien had prepared a basket overflowing with wings and onion rings, accompanied by an array of homemade dipping sauces: southern barbecue, Cajun mustard, Cajun sauce, creamy chipotle, and sour cream. While Fabien enjoyed a bottle of beer, Celeste and Tristan opted for Southern sweet tea. As Tristan sampled the onion rings, he let out an appreciative hum, the rich flavors dancing across his palate.

Fabien: “Is it good?”

Tristan: “My goodness, Fabien, this is leagues better than Lazaros’ food.”

He said breathlessly. Fabien beamed.

Celeste: “Yeah, it really is.”

She drawled.

Fabien: “So, Tristan…”

He began as he placed the neck to his lips and sipped his beer.

Fabien: “What brings you by?”

Tristan smiled.

Tristan: “Since you’re a part of the team, I feel you, and I need to get along better… and more so now that you and Celeste are in a relationship.”

Celeste grinned. Fabien draped his arm over her and kissed her.

Fabien: “I love her.”

He chirped. Tristan raised his eyebrows.

Tristan: “It took Jaxon some pressure to tell her that.”

Celeste’s smile faded.

Celeste: “He never loved me. That’s why.”

She looked away. Tristan twisted his mouth.

Tristan: “He complained to me that your lovemaking is angering him.”

Fabien paused.

Fabien: “...Why would it piss him off? I thought he was snaking in on Jordi’s little sister. Besides, he fucking spent MONTHS moping about Chelsea and objectifying Celeste, and now he wants her?!”

He said angrily and laughed bitterly.

Celeste: “Good for him. I don’t want him.”

She said flatly and munched on her wings. Fabien rubbed her back.

Tristan: “I told him to let Lena go if he has feelings lingering for Celeste.”

He sipped his iced tea.

Celeste: “He doesn’t have feelings for me; he just wants the prize he can’t get. I was always a prize.”

She said with hurt. Fabien knit his eyebrows.

Fabien: “Losers don’t get prizes, and you’re not a prize!”

Celeste smiled and rubbed against his face, like a cat saying you’re hers.

Tristan smiled at their display of affection.

Tristan: “For a bit, Lena crushed on me… and Jaxon had the audacity to say she chose him over me.”

He crushed his napkin with his fist. Fabien scrutinized him.

Fabien: “Yeah, because, no offense, you didn’t put up much of a fight. If you did, she would have definitely picked you.”

He drawled.

Tristan: “Thank you, Fabien! This is what I said, and he wouldn’t have it.”

He huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Fabien shrugged.

Fabien: “You always had that pull toward Deimos, so you weren’t giving it your all, because you still want him.”

Tristan looked away.

Fabien: “She gave up and found a loser like Jiro, who is never happy with anything.”

He laughed.

Tristan: “Jordi doesn’t want her seeing him.”

Fabien laughed again.

Fabien: “Yeah, I get that, but she will soon see that Jiro is never fucking happy. He’s always looking to fill that void.”

He said bitterly.

Tristan: “Noah is still working for him.”

He dipped an onion ring in some Cajun sauce and ate it.

Fabien: “...Wasn’t he working for Percy? Didn’t Jiro toss Percy aside like he was nothing when Lena was all starry-eyed for that red dragon loser?”

Tristan nodded.

Tristan: “Precisely.”

Fabien snorted. Celeste gaped at him.

Fabien: “That motherfucker doesn’t get anything, unless you spell it out for him.”

He scoffed.

Tristan: “...My thoughts exactly.”

Fabien: “Noah is spying for Percy. No shit, Sherlock. Does he need him to find his brain? This is assuming he has one. I’m feeling benevolent today, so I am assuming the best.”

He said dryly. Celeste grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

~

After Tristan left and Fabien cleaned up, he logged on to Bungle and beamed when he saw “MasterChefLaz” online. He clicked on his name and typed something to him.

SeigneurMonstre: Hey, Laz! Tristan swung by my house to have dinner with my babe and me!

MasterChefLaz: Hey Fabian! Ohh….? Hmmm…. Why did he go to your hose to have dinner with you and Seleste?

Fabien burst out laughing and typed.

SeigneurMonstre: He was having dinner with his friends! He told me my onion rings and wings are better than yours. :(

MasterChefLaz: Oh….? Hmmm… Oh…. Why did he say that? Im the masture chef for the love freeking fries for crying aloud! How cood he beetray me?

Fabien screamed with laughter. Between Lazaros’ horrible spelling and the fact that he could tell he was having a tantrum was hilarious to him.

~

Tristan was on Deimos’ backyard patio. The two were sitting together, and Tristan leaned on Deimos’ shoulder. Deimos had his arm snaked around his man, enjoying the peace and quiet.

Deimos: “Wanna grab a bite to eat?”

He said as he idly traced the back of Tristan’s neck. Tristan laughed softly.

Tristan: “I already ate at Fabien and Celeste’s.”

Deimos: “Oh, did you? He is an excellent little cook.”

The door swung open. Lazaros stepped out wearing a devil costume, angry as a hornet.

Deimos: “The fuck do you want?”

He spat.

Lazaros: “TRISTAN!! Fabien told me you said his food was better than mine! WHY DID YOU SAY THAT?!”

He caterwauled. Tristan heaved an exasperated sigh. Deimos felt his fury soar. He rose to Lazaros.

Deimos: “Don’t you EVER speak that way to him! So what if he finds Fabien’s cooking better?! You only make the same shit over and over again!”

He thundered. Lazaros’ bottom lip trembled.

Lazaros: “I AM THE MASTER CHEF, DEIMOS! THERE IS NO WAY A DANNY DONGER’S WAITER IS BETTER THAN THE MASTER!”

He sank to the ground and sobbed. Tristan gaped at him and rolled his eyes.

Lazaros: “Goddamn you, Tristan!”

He pounded the ground. Good, maybe he will get off my case about recalling his books, Tristan thought.

Deimos felt his fury rise every passing second he saw his brother in that stupid costume, crying about something idiotic.

Deimos: “Yeah, well, sometimes during amateur hour, there were better singers and guitarists than Jaxon. May as well fucking deal with it, or maybe you’re not a master chef! A master chef wouldn’t pull his cookbook over Ashley!”

He huffed. Lazaros angrily rose.

Lazaros: “Ashley domestic abused me!”

He countered. Deimos rolled his eyes and glared at Lazaros.

Deimos: “...Is that a fucking Halloween costume you’re wearing?”

Lazaros looked down and back up at Deimos.

Lazaros: “...No…”

Deimos clenched his fist into a tight ball.

Lazaros: “I don’t have other clothes, Deimos! You keep guarding the washer and dryer, and I can’t use my own!”

He huffed.

Deimos swung his fist at Lazaros, knocking him over. Lazaros cried when he hit the floor. Deimos lunged at him, socking him repeatedly. Tristan sighed as Deimos punched Lazaros, and he wailed with each blow that landed on him.

~

Gus was in the living room, chopping up some weed with scissors into a bowl as Fabien was picking up his dirty laundry.

Fabien: “You know, Gus, you’re free to pick up your clothes whenever you want.”

He said dryly.

Gus: “Okay!”

He smiled dumbly as he pulled out a packet of “Tacky-Yo” cigarette-rolling papers, placing a thin sheet on the table. He then cut off a thin, long slice of cardboard from a bus ticket, rolling it up between his fingers into a cylinder. He then carefully placed it at the end of the paper to make a filter.

Fabien: “Or wash your dirty dishes without piling them in your room.”

He added, looking down at Gus as he sprinkled his weed onto the paper, rolled it between his fingers, licked the sticky side, and folded it into a cylinder. He then poured more mixture into the opening at the top of the joint until it was full of weed and tobacco. He then twisted the end to seal it all in and pulled out a lighter to light the tip.

Fabien went into his and Celeste’s bedroom to see her kneeling in the furthest corner by the glass case where he held his horseback riding trophies. He smiled, rested the basket by the door, and went in beside her.

Fabien: “What are you working on, babe?”

He knelt beside her.

Celeste turned to him and grinned like the Cheshire Cat. She held up a thick, woven collar, its fibers twisted into a rustic braid. Set deeply into this rugged braid were three polished, oval stones of a deep, mossy green, each one glowing with inner, pale circular highlights that seemed to shimmer with a life of their own. Fabien’s eyes lit up as he traced his index finger over the stones.

Fabien: “Oh, this is pretty. Who is it for?”

He asked.

Without saying a word, she leaned over to tie the collar around his neck. Fabien paused and felt the heat rise to his face as he reddened. His hand rose to run his fingers over the collar. He rose to his feet to look at himself in the mirror above his dresser, and a wide smile tugged at his lips. Celeste stood beside him, draped her arms over his shoulders, and smiled. Fabien turned to her.

Fabien: “Celeste, I love this… This is beautiful.”

He said breathlessly, pulling her into a tight embrace and patting her back.

Fabien: “I love this… I love you… Thank you…”

He whispered into her ear. Celeste beamed and threaded her fingers through his snowy hair.

Celeste: “I love you, too, Fab.”

She kissed his neck and trailed her nails over it, causing him to shiver and laugh.

Fabien: “Hehehehahahaha!”

He traced his thumb over her lips.

Fabien: “No one has ever given me anything before, you know?”

Celeste: “Well, now I did!”

She beamed. Fabien smiled and nodded.

Fabien: “I know, babe.”

~

Fabien sat outside smoking one of the joints Gus had rolled. He was wearing a pair of green-and-purple-tinted shades.

Jaxon glared at him. He wore a red snakeskin button-down shirt, tight leather pants, and black Chelsea boots.

Jaxon: “I guess MY Green Queen isn’t making you happy if you still have to smoke that shit!”

He huffed. Fabien laughed.

Fabien: “Well, joke’s on you, Jiro-kun.”

He snorted.

Fabien: “She makes me very happy, and I am not sitting around moping about another woman.”

Jaxon glowered at him, and he tightened his fist into a tight ball.

Jaxon: “That woman died because of ME!”

Fabien rolled his eyes and inhaled a long drag.

Fabien: “So you blame yourself for her death but not for Celeste leaving you?”

He challenged. Jaxon bared his teeth.

Jaxon: “Because she left because of YOU!”

Fabien remained unfazed.

Fabien: “Of course, she did; it had nothing to do with you neglecting her.”

He waved his hand.

Jaxon noticed something reflecting off Fabien. He walked toward him to get a better look and saw he wore a choker.

Jaxon: “And what’s that? Something your idiot stoner buddy made for you?”

He scoffed. Fabien glanced down and rubbed the necklace. He scowled at Jaxon.

Fabien: “No, Jiro. Gus didn’t make this for me. Celeste made it for me!”

He snapped. Jaxon’s smug expression faded, and hurt flickered on his face.

Jaxon: “...She made that for you?”

Fabien: “Yes, she did. Why are you upset, Jiro? Does Jordi’s sister not make you happy?”

He countered.

Jaxon turned around.

Jaxon: “Good for her.”

He said flatly.

Jaxon: “And fuck you, Fabien.”

He huffed and stormed into the house, slamming the door. Fabien smirked.

~

Jaxon gazed at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his collar one last time. I don’t need Celeste, he thought. That fucking troll and Ichiro can fight over her, he thought with tears burning behind his eyes. He took a deep breath. No, I can’t do this, he mused. He wanted to look flawless and like he hadn’t spent most of the day angry about Tristan, Jordi, Fabien, and Celeste. He wanted to look like the man Lena deserved.

He grabbed his keys off the dresser, the keychain jangling against the wood. Tonight was the night. A trip to the drive-in felt like the perfect way to finally bridge the gap between him and Lena, and maybe close the chapter on him and Celeste.

Jaxon bounded out into the evening air. He pulled the lever, and the top folded down with a satisfying mechanical groan, exposing the interior to the humid Thursday night breeze.

He slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar scent of vinyl and the faint hint of his own cologne filling the car. He gave the engine a quick turn; it roared to life with a throaty growl. He flipped the headlights on, checked the car’s clock—6:45 PM—and shifted into gear.

The drive to Lena’s house was a blur of golden-hour light and anticipation. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, a Torturgazm track thumping through the speakers, trying to mentally rehearse what he’d say when she opened the door. Just keep it cool, Jaxon, he told himself. Don't overthink it.

As he pulled up to the curb in front of her place, he killed the engine, leaving only the distant sound of crickets and his own rapid heartbeat. He sat for a second, glancing at his reflection in the rearview mirror, checking his smile. He looked ready. He took a deep breath, smoothed down his shirt, and stepped out of the car to head up to her porch.

~

Inside Lena’s bedroom, the faint, sweet floral perfume pervaded the area. Lena sat at her vanity, the light reflecting off the mirror making her eyes look even brighter than usual. She kept glancing at the clock on her nightstand; it was ten minutes to seven. Any minute now, she’d hear the rumble of his car pulling up to the curb.

She leaned in close to the mirror to apply a final swipe of pink lipstick, her hand trembling just a fraction. She smoothed the front of her light pink floral dress, fretting over whether it was too casual or just right. It had long puffy sleeves with a plunging neckline, and the skirt fell to her knees. She wanted to look perfect for tonight—not just like the girl next door, but like the girl Jaxon couldn't stop looking at.

A small, heart-shaped hair clip held back one side of her hair, and she adjusted it for the tenth time, making sure it was sitting just right. She felt a flutter of nervous excitement deep in her stomach. It was just a trip to the drive-in, she reminded herself. Just a movie under the stars. But the way Jaxon looked at her lately made it feel like something much bigger, something that might finally change everything between them.

She stood up, doing a quick spin in front of her full-length mirror. She felt a surge of confidence—the dress swished perfectly, and the gold heart necklace around her neck caught the light. Just as she turned to grab her small matching purse, a low, familiar growl echoed from the street.

Lena took a deep, steadying breath, forced a bright smile, slid her feet into her butterfly heels, and turned toward her bedroom door, ready to face the evening—and whatever might happen with Jaxon—head-on. She pushed open the front door.

There, idling at the curb, was Jaxon’s Celica. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of the car, and she saw Jaxon standing at her door.

He was leaning casually against the column, his long hair catching a stray breeze.

For a heartbeat, neither of them said a word. Jaxon’s eyes traced the hem of her floral dress, then moved up to her face, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his features. It wasn't his usual cocky grin; it was softer, a little unguarded, and it made Lena’s breath catch in her throat.

Jaxon: “Hey…”

He said, his voice a little lower than usual as he stepped forward to get closer.

Jaxon: “You look amazing and lovely... Seriously…”

Lena felt a blush creep up her neck. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clutching her purse tightly.

Lena: “Thanks, Jaxon. You look amazing, too!”

He let out a short, bashful laugh, rubbing the back of his neck before walking to his car and gesturing toward the passenger door.

Jaxon: “I thought we could beat the rush at the drive-in.”

Lena: “That would be lovely…”

He moved quickly, opening the passenger door for her. As she settled into the passenger's seat, Jaxon rounded the front of the car. He slipped into the driver’s seat, the car smelling faintly of his cologne. Before he turned the ignition, he glanced over at her, his hand lingering for just a second on the gear shift.

Jaxon: “Ready to go?”

He asked, his eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. He knew Jordi wasn’t pleased with this, and that Tristan had likely manipulated the entire situation. Lena smiled, feeling the thrill of the night ahead.

Lena: “Ready!”

She chirped.

With a roar of the engine, he pulled away from the curb, leaving her house behind as they headed toward the drive-in.