Project Apollo: Book Two ✔️

Chapter Seven

Apollo Diaz

"Make sure you're rolling your dough, everyone! Balls! We want to see balls!"

I tried to conceal the snort of laughter, but it slipped through. But I ceased when Jason started to chuckle beside me. We'd been silently making cookies for the past forty-five minutes, and we had expertly managed to avoid all conversation.

Somehow, we silently agreed on which portions we'd be doing. We operated this cookie table like a well-organized surgery. And it made me angry. Maybe that was unfair. Jason hadn't done anything to piss me off other than exist in my space this evening.

Something about him seemed lighter. More airy. I couldn't explain it. But I didn't care to figure out what changed. Maybe his little cat nap with my best friend, in my spot, gave him a new lease on life. He was in my bed. For some reason, it bothered me. Not because it was Axton he was next to. It was my bed. My place. My haven. And he intruded.

I tossed the cookie on the tray after rolling it, and Jason didn't complain when he had to fix the position. This was what I was talking about. Normally, I'd get a glare. There would be fight there. Where did it fucking go? Why did he all of a sudden want to stop sending me snarls and glares?

I decided to try and push his buttons to figure out if it was just a lapse in judgment. The next one, I purposely tossed to miss the tray. It fell onto the floor. I didn't even look at it. Acknowledge it. I reached into the bowl and pulled out more. "I'm not picking that up."

Jason was looking at me. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. There was no longer malice sitting there. It was as if he was waiting for me—to make sure I was serious. When I continued to roll dough, he sighed quietly and knelt to pick up the discarded ball of cookie from the floor. He tossed it in the trash, and like a good boy, he washed his hands.

When he was back, he went to work fixing the dough I was carelessly tossing on the tray. "Do you want to hand them to me, I don't mind placing them on—"

"No."

He relented, continuing to fix my childish artwork until the tray was full. He didn't mind placing them? Didn't mind? And what was with the entirely new tone of voice? The soft way he spoke. Like he was a timid creature and not the guy who angrily blew up on me constantly. To the point that I couldn't put up with him. No one has ever tested my patience like he has. Never. No one ever bothered me the way Jason did. No one got to me. I didn't give a shit. Why was he so privy to my lack of control?

Jason took the tray over to be put in the oven. I glanced at Axton, who was putting a piece of dough on Emery's nose—both of them laughing. Then to Alaric and my mom—consumed in conversation with smiles. All the while I was stuck with the guy who had an overnight attitude adjustment. A personality adjustment. Something adjusted. And that set off red flags everywhere.

I watched as he slipped out of the room, so I decided it was my chance to figure out what the hell this little snake was up to. My trust issues were ringing loudly. Something was off. Something changed. Something...drastic. What was he up to? Well, I was going to find out one way or another.

When he turned the corner, my voice was what stopped him. "Waving your white flag, Jason?" I asked. "Deciding you couldn't win?"

He froze mid-step before he stood completely still like a stick figure drawn on paper. "Maybe in a sense."

Footsteps of another person sounded behind me before I was hit with a familiar presence. Axton. But I didn't care. Maybe he wanted to know what Jason was up to. "In a sense? No one gets an attitude adjustment overnight."