Perfect Redemption

Eleven: In Which He Realizes She Isn't What She Really Seems

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[ J A X ' S P O V ]

The next few hours go by in a blur, at least for me that is.

I don't know how my dad does this. The whole day I've been shipped to places that feel foreign to me, get interviewed by people who don't know me and speak words that feel forced. Most of the questions that get thrown at me are about my father and I try to answer them as nicely as I can, but I can only take so much. I rarely get questions asking about me.

I guess when you have a father who's a celebrity, you're bound to end up as his shadow and nothing else.

I try not to let it get to me. So I give them what they want. I give them scripted answers to their questions. I show them the fake me-the charming, easy-going me who is eager to please. I wear my facade for the entire day and it helps to make the day go faster. Because I don't realize I'm slowly fading with time too.

I really fucking wish I was in Boston right now.

I could go. I could. I can just pack up my bags tonight and leave and nobody here will ever miss me. To hell with trying to find redemption here. All I'm getting is the media's attention and nothing to benefit from it. I can go back to my life in Boston-the quiet life-where no paparazzi is going to chase me down the street for pictures and I am not forced to do shit I do not want to.

My mind is almost set. I will leave his hellhole and I don't have to come back.

But I hesitate.

Something is stopping me.

Or to be more specific, someone.

Blaire.

Yes, she's a bitch to me. Yes, we're not exactly friends. And yes, half the time I want to strangle her for the shit that comes out from her mouth.

But she's the most fun I've had in ages.

I like her. She's feisty, smart-mouthed, and she doesn't take shit from no one-even me. She's a bitch and every word that comes out from her mouth is venom, but I don't give a fuck.

Haven't you heard? Good is boring. Bad is in.

Oh, bad is so fucking in right now.

And let's not forget that she is probably the hottest girl I've ever seen in my entire life. I have never wanted anyone the way I want her. She invades my thoughts all the time and my left hand is getting tired of it. I need her. I want her so bad I'm coming out of my fucking skin.

I peek a glance at her when we're back in the limo, headed back home. She's looking outside the window, curiosity lacing her face. She looks beautiful like this, like a calm before a storm.

My eyes trace the bodyguard's uniform she's wearing and I can't help but snicker.

If Blaire and I ever fuck, I want to do it when she's wearing her bodyguard uniform. Because looking at her in it, I've never been this turned on in my entire life.

Bless my father's soul for making her wear it.

Because the entire morning, I cannot keep my eyes off her. Even when I'm pissed at her, I'm still staring. At her face, at her lips, at her breasts, her legs... every single inch of her I'm most likely to never forget. And everything looks way better now because of that bloody uniform.

If I could just fuck her out of my system...

If she let me... oh, if she did, we would have the time of our lives.