I wonder if he’s afraid of the same thing, because instead of answering, he turns around and enters what I assume is his bedroom. At least until he realizes I’m still staring at the Klimt—and every other fabulous thing in the room—to be following him.
He kind of rolls his eyes, but then he comes back and gently herds me toward his bedroom, all without laying a finger on me.
“Come on. There’s something I want you to see.”
I follow him without question. With Flint earlier, I had moments of concern, of worry that it wasn’t safe to be alone with him. Everything inside me warns that Jaxon is a million times more dangerous than Flint, and still I have not an ounce of trepidation when it comes to being alone in his bedroom with him. When it comes to being anywhere, or doing anything, with him.
I don’t know if that makes me foolish or a good judge of character. Not that it really matters, because it is what it is.
Jaxon stops near the edge of his bed and picks up the heavy red blanket folded across the edge of it. Then he reaches into his top dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of faux fur–lined gloves and tosses them to me. “Put those on and come on.”
“Come on where?” I ask, baffled. But I do as he asks and slide my hands into the gloves.
He opens the window, and frigid air rushes in.
“You can’t be serious. No way am I going out there. I’ll freeze.”
He looks over his shoulder at me and winks. He winks.
“What was that?” I demand. “Since when do you wink?”
He doesn’t answer beyond a quick twist of his lips. And then climbs out the window and drops three feet onto the parapet just below the tower.
I should ignore him, should simply turn around and walk out of this room, away from any boy who thinks I’m dumb enough to hang out on an Alaskan roof in November with nothing more than a blazer to keep me warm. That’s what I should do.
Of course, just because I should do it doesn’t mean I will.
Because, apparently, when I’m with this boy, I lose all common sense. And part of losing that common sense means doing exactly what I shouldn’t—in this case, following Jaxon straight out the window and onto the parapet.
33
Madonna’s
Not the Only One
with a Lucky Star
The second I drop down beside him—or should I say the second he helps me down, being super careful of my still tender ankle—Jaxon wraps the blanket around me, head and all, so that only my eyes stick out. And I have to say, I’m not sure what the blanket is made of, but the moment it’s wrapped around me, I stop shivering. I’m not exactly warm, but I’m definitely not going to be dying of hypothermia anytime soon, either.
“What about you?” I ask when I realize he’s wearing only his hoodie. It’s a heavy hoodie, the same one he was wearing when I saw him outside yesterday with Lia, but still, nowhere near enough protection for the weather. “We can share the blanket.”
I break off when he laughs. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Of course I’m going to worry about you. The weather is frigid.”
He shrugs. “I’m used to it.”
“That’s it. I have to ask.”
Everything about him turns wary. “Ask what?”
“Are you an alien?”
Both his brows go up this time, all the way to his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“Are. You. An. Alien? I can’t believe it’s that shocking of a question. I mean, look at you.” I wave an arm up and down under the blanket, my way of encompassing everything that is Jaxon in one fell swoop.
“I can’t look at myself.” For the first time, he sounds amused.
“You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t.” He leans down so there’s only a couple of inches separating our faces. “You’re going to have to explain it to me.”
“Like you don’t already know you’re pretty much the hottest person alive.”
He rears back like I’ve struck him, and I don’t think he even realizes that he touches his scar as he says, “Yeah, right.”
Which…come on. “You have to know that scar makes you sexy as hell, right?”
“No.” It’s a short answer. Simple. Succinct, even. And yet it reveals so much more than he’d ever want anyone to see.
“Well, it does. Sexy. As. Hell,” I repeat. “Plus, there’s the way everyone pretty much kisses your ass all the time.”