“It’s bacon made out of turkey.”
“Then it’s not bacon.” He props his hands on his hips and I start to salivate. Jesus, Mary and Joseph the man fills out a pair of jeans nicely.
“You’ll like it.”
“Just call it a TLT,” he insists and follows me out to the kitchen.
“A what?” I laugh.
“A turkey, lettuce and tomato.”
“Whatever makes you feel better,” I reply and smile when I see Jax sitting in the kitchen sipping water and reading a fitness magazine. “Good morning.”
“It’s afternoon. What time did you get home?” he asks and eyes Mark suspiciously.
“Does she have a curfew?” Mark asks coldly, glaring at Jax.
“No, but she does require respect, and keeping her out all night and then sleeping with her isn’t respecting her, dude.”
“No one,” Mark replies with fire shooting from his eyes as he advances on Jax, pushing his face close to his, “respects Meredith more than I do. You don’t know our history.”
“I know plenty,” Jax replies softly, never breaking eye contact with Mark. “And I know I’m watching you.”
Surprisingly, Mark sticks his hand out to shake Jax’s. “Thank you for protecting her,” he says quietly.
“I love her,” Jax replies honestly.
Mark nods, glances at me and then leans in to whisper something to Jax that I can’t hear.
“Fair enough,” Jax replies with a nod.
“Uh, can we forgo the pissing contest, boys?” I ask dryly. “No need to worry, Jax. We got in early this morning.” I pin him with my best butt out, everything is fine glare and turn to the fridge to find what I need to make lunch. “We’re going to a movie later. Wanna go?”
“I’d love to, lollypop, but I have a date.” He grins and throws his magazine on the countertop, then leans back and crosses his arms.
“I haven’t got my Men’s Fitness in the mail yet,” Mark says and reaches for the magazine, but I put my hand up, halting all conversation.
“Wait. Back up. A date with who?”
“You don’t know him.” Jax shakes his head and starts to walk out of the kitchen, but I grip his T-shirt in my fist from behind, bringing him to a stop.
“Wait. I need details. I can’t just let you go out with some guy off the street.”
“I don’t think he’s homeless, Mer,” Jax replies sarcastically and Mark snickers.
“You know what I mean.”
“Leave it alone. If it turns into anything other than sex, I’ll tell you more.”
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at my friend. We always talk about who we’re dating. “Use condoms.”
“Always.” He winks and saunters out of the kitchen, then turns back abruptly. “Don’t forget, we have rehearsal for Starla’s piece Monday before class.”
“I won’t forget,” I reply and wave him off. “What did you whisper to him?”
“Guy stuff,” Mark replies and leans his hips against the granite countertop, watching me slice a tomato.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“Nope.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes and assemble our sandwiches. “Do you want some watermelon with yours?”
“Sure.”
We eat in silence, watching each other. When he swallows, his neck muscles flex, and I can’t help but want to lick him there.
I’m so gonna lick him there.
“What are you thinking?” he asks as he tilts his head to the side.
“Nothing.”
“You just blushed and blinked fast. You were thinking something.”
I lick my lips and then just smile and shrug. “I was thinking about licking your neck.”
He stops chewing and stares at me for a long minute, then swallows hard, like the food in his mouth is suddenly dry and tosses the rest of our lunch in the garbage.
“We need to get out of here.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m two seconds away from carrying you back to your room and saying fuck the movie. Let’s go.” He holds his hand out for mine, and when our fingers lace, he leads me out of the apartment and down to his Jeep.
“What movie do you want to see?” he asks as he drives into downtown Seattle and finds parking.
“Hmm… something either funny or full of action.”
“No chick flicks?” he asks in surprise.
“No way. Nothing mushy.”
“You’re my kind of girl.”
“I’m so glad to hear that,” I reply with a laugh and follow Mark into the movie theater. He buys our tickets for something called Waterfall.
“I’ve heard good things about this one! It’s the new action movie with Mark Wahlberg, right?”
“Yep,” he confirms. “Luke produced it.”
“He did? Holy shit, that’s cool.”
Mark smiles proudly and waits in line with me for some popcorn. “Do you still mix M&M’s in your popcorn?”
“Of course,” I reply.
We gather our snacks and choose seats toward the back of the theater.
“So Luke’s been producing for a while,” I comment casually and pour my plain M&M’s into the bucket of popcorn. “You used to bring me M&M’s to school every single day.”