Perfect Redemption

Two: In Which She Calls Him A Piece of Shit

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[ B L A I R E ' S P O V ]

"What?" The man in front of me says out of utter disbelief. From the horrified expression on his face, it's obvious that he wasn't expecting to be sharing a mansion with a girl that almost tried to kill him with a katana sword for the whole summer.

And let me tell you—I'm not pleased about this situation too. In fact, I didn't even know that Baxton's son had arrived in LA. I was told that he lived in Boston with his mother. Now that he was here... my gut told me that it wasn't going to end well.

Jackson—or so his father calls him—turns to glare at me. I shrug, crossing my arms over my chest, but I can't help but feel triumph, knowing that his life is going to be miserable now that he knows I'm living here too. In the past fifteen minutes of our encounter, he not only comes off as a jerk but an asshole as well. I can tell by the way he looked at me like he wanted to fuck me six ways to Sunday.

Hah. No fucking way, fuck boy. You ain't getting any of this while you're here.

But as much as I hate his guts for checking me out earlier, I can't help but notice that he's unbelievably handsome. His platinum blonde hair tucks behind his ears, curling outwards. His eyes, the most serene shade of kohl, hold a complex weave of emotions. Even though I know most of those emotions consist of anger, hatred and loathing, those eyes hold the promise of a really good story.

And a little part of me wants to know that story.

Of course, let's not forget his other features. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, full lips... that hold the promise of a good time. Power laps off his ripped body like waves. He had hinted to me that he's a fighter so that would probably explain why his shoulders are broad and his arms are taunt and muscular. I'm pretty convinced that his body is so huge that he might just rip the plain black T-shirt his wearing into shreds with the slightest of movement. It's either that or he may intentionally wear shirts that are five sizes too small for him just for the sake of looking good.

Whichever way, he has succeeded to turn my lady parts into jelly.

I don't like this. I don't like this one bit. My lust for him is dangerous. I shouldn't be even looking at him. Jax is Baxton's son—getting involved with him is not an option.

"Does he sound like he's speaking god damned Chinese to you?" I can't help but snap at Jax, "because you sound as if you don't know what the hell he's saying."

He huffs, holding the phone away briefly so he can focus on me. "Did I ask you to talk, girl?"

"I don't need your permission to talk," I roll my eyes. "I do whatever the hell I want."

He seethes in response."You are so..."

I cock my head sideways, my teeth grinding against each other. "So what? I fucking dare you to say it."

He thrust the sword upwards and I almost forgot that he still has my weapon. He points it straight towards my chest and I take a cautious step back.

"Watch it, girl." He snarls at me. "You're testing my patience."

"I'm didn't do anything!" I say, exasperated.

"You exist! That's doing something!" Jax counters back.

"Fuck you!" I flip him off with my middle finger.

"I see that you guys are getting along. Great," Baxton's voice echoes through the living room. For a second there, it has completely slipped my mind that Baxton is hearing our entire conversation through Jackson's phone.