Lydia liked Jaxon’s black boxer briefs. They emphasized his excellent hip-to-shoulder ratio, and sat so nicely just below his hipbones. They were classy, and sexy, and made him look much older than he was. But he was annoying her, so he didn’t get hear about that. “Mhmm, and so are granny panties, and yet someone insists I drop seventy-five dollars on lingerie, only to rip them every time he’s feeling a little randy.” She wasn’t being fair now, because for fuck’s sake, she liked when he ripped her clothes of. Hell, it was generally the result of hours of strategic planning and teasing on her part. But that wasn’t the point.
“It’s fine Jaxon, can we just—” She wanted to go home. The reading minds comment itched against her skin, and she shifted, uncomfortable. Was that a thing? Telepathy? Pyschic… stuff? She shivered, hating the idea that there could be a person out there who knew what was in her mind. That was hers. Her torture, her talent, if it could be called that. It was private.
Her mind was absorbed in thoughts of homicidal witches and dead werewolves and telepaths running around the Quarter stealing thoughts from innocent minds. She tuned back in when he was talking about how great a time it was for scouts. “That’s great, Jax,” she said with a distracted and thin grimace, though she’d been aiming for a smile.
He didn’t like what she was doing it felt like she was arguing for the sake of arguing and they both seemed to do it a lot. He knew she didn’t mind his choice of underwear, preferred it even. And he definitely knew she didn’t mind the lingerie ripping; he was only ever so lascivious when she spent the day with the sole purpose of literally torturing him. “I happen to remember a few of my own favorite shirts going in the trash with no buttons because someone was a little impatient.”
“It’s fine Jaxon, can we just—”
He had no answer to give her, only questions of his own. Could they what exactly? Eat? Stop talking? Stop doing...whatever it is that they were doing? Leave? “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” He didn’t think it possible but, she suddenly looked even more uncomfortable and he was forced to consider that she didn’t want to be there any more than he did. She wasn’t even listening, he realized and a pang of annoyance washed over him. What were they even doing, sitting around making small talk that Lydia clearly didn’t care to listen to? “Yeah it is great,” Jax replied, sarcasm drenching his words. “I think i’ve found a secret love for sitting on the bench and watching my teammates cost us the game. Might do it more often.”
The waiter passed by with a plate of something with shrimp in it - not his, but it was enough to remind him that even when his and Lydia’s food did get there, he wouldn’t be able to escape into his meal because he had no desire to eat what he’d ordered. The night was officially a bust and he was over it. “You know what Lydia? I think i’m done here.”
