Perfect Redemption

Nine: In Which He's The Man Of The Summer

Blaire can't do much as my bodyguard. So I don't know why we should keep her around.

Because you like being near her, dumb fuck, my thought ring in my head, and now that she's your bodyguard, you can use it as an excuse to spend time with her.

Yeah, I snort. I want to spend time with her so I can figure out how to convince her that I'm interested in fucking her.

I make my way down the stairs in my black robe with those cute bunny slippers that I found in the closet one day. I know they're girly as fuck but they're so comfortable that I'm willing to overlook that. Fuck it. If Blaire sees me in this, I'm just going to wing it.

I make my way to the kitchen and brew myself some coffee. It doesn't take long for Blaire to saunter into the kitchen in her satin robe. She looks disoriented. Her eyes have dark circles underneath them, as if she's been tossing and turning the entire night. She hugs herself tighter underneath her chest area and like the man I am, my eyes can't help but land on her rack, accentuated by her arms-

"Quit looking at my tits and make me some damn coffee, Jackson," she snaps, breaking my thoughts. "Also, I can't take you seriously in those bunny slippers. You make me want to barf out my non-existent breakfast."

God dammit. I've been caught.

Well, it's not like I was trying to hide it anyway.

"You're cranky this morning," I shrug instead, turning to the coffee maker. "Where were you off to yesterday? And the day before?"

"I'm not really in the mood to answer that." She sighs, taking her seat, pressing her face on the cool marble counter top, her hands outstretched like she's begging me to give her the coffee right now.

"Which one? The first question or the second one?"

"Both." She rolls her eyes. "And I told you, Jackson, not to ask me about my business-"

"And I also told you not to call me Jackson." I snap back at her, cutting her off. "Guess we hate following the rules, don't we?"

Her eyes are fixated on me for a while, holding my gaze. In the end, she gives up and shrugs. "Fair enough."

"So you're going to stop calling me Jackson?" I ask her.

"Nope." She smiles a little. "I like that it annoys you. So I'm going to keep calling you that."

"Then, I'm going to keep pestering you about your business," I say in finality.

"Sure. But I'm still not going to tell you," she wriggles her eyebrows, clearly taunting me. "I don't trust you enough to tell you."

"Ouch. That brutal honesty," I place my hand on my chest area and wince, as if I had been wounded by her words. She merely bats her eyelashes at me.

"Don't be so melodramatic," she says, trying to show that she's irritated but it backfires. Because I can see a hint of a smile grace her face. That small gesture makes my heart quicken.

What the fuck.

"Speaking of drama..." She grabs her phone from the pocket of her robe and shows the screen to me just when I'm handing her the cup of coffee. "Look at this. You're famous."

"What?" I take her phone and my eyes widen at the slur of articles that she screen-shotted in her phone gallery. "Whoa."

"Already ten articles. And counting," she says, taking a sip of her coffee. "You can't escape from this now."

"And whose fault is that?" I look up to glare at Blaire. She glares right back. I turn my attention back to the phone and nod. "Jax Deneris Spotted in La. Jax Deneris, son of Baxton Deneris, Here To Stay? Deneris's Hotshot Son Makes An Appearance. Jax Deneris: What A Total Babe!"