Jax’s car used to be Jared’s. I’d s

Jax’s car used to be Jared’s. I’d seen it plenty over the years, and although it was older than Liam’s Camaro, it was definitely a hell of a lot tougher. Or maybe it just felt more solid. I don’t know. I remember being in Liam’s car, waiting at a stoplight and feeling as if the car’s engine was going to die or something. Just the way it puttered felt as though it was about to give out at any moment.
But, sitting in Jax’s black Mustang GT, I felt as if I were sitting in a turbo jet as solid as a bullet the way it glided effortlessly through the torrential downpour. Inside, the spotless black interior was dark and narrow, like being in a cave. Outside, the wind blew sheets of rain across the windshield. I had to squint to see, because the windshield wipers could barely keep up with the downpour.
But the car provided a haven from the rain pounding on the rooftop outside, and the spray under the tires was a distant echo.
Even though I was safe and warm, I couldn’t shake the nerves making the hair on my arms stand up. I clenched my skirt in my fists and looked at nothing out the window.
He was too close. And—I rubbed my fists down my warm thighs—he wasn’t close enough.
“Here.” Jax spoke up, startling me. He reached behind in the backseat and tossed me a towel. “It’s clean.”
Of course it was. Jax might get his hands dirty from time to time, but his clothes and his car—at least from what I’d seen on the outside—were always impeccably clean. Hell, even his house looked pristine when I’d been in there.
“Thanks,” I said as I caught it at my chest.
Something to do. Anything …
I reached down and brushed off the droplets of rain that had drenched my legs, and then slipped out of my flip-flops to pat my feet dry.
I hadn’t gotten completely soaked, and Jax had driven the car as close to the school as he could, but I still caught an onslaught of fat drops. My clothes were blotched with nickel-size circles, and some of my hair was sticking to my neck and shoulders.
Brushing up my thighs, I straightened my back against the seat and wiped the water off my bare arms.
But I was still shit out of luck.
He was watching me, and I could damn well feel it.
Turning around, I placed the towel in the backseat again and stilled when the grumbling of my stomach—evidence that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast—burst forth in the otherwise quiet car.
Shit. I twisted back around and fastened my seat belt, hoping he hadn’t heard it.
No such luck.
“Are you hungry?” Jax looked over at me. “I have some snacks if you want.”
“No, I’m fine,” I mumbled, not making eye contact.
But then my belly whirred again, and I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my stomach, melting into the seat.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he chuckled, and I opened my eyes to see him reaching behind the seat again and digging a container out of his duffel bag. “Eat,” he ordered, dumping a plastic Tupperware container in my lap.
I pursed my lips. Why did he have to sound so condescending all the time?
“I’m fine,” I said flatly, turning my glare out the window. “I’ll be home soon anyway.”
“So I can give you a ride home, but you won’t eat my food?”
My eyes widened, and I looked over at him. “You made me let you give me a ride home,” I pointed out, and then added quietly, “Which I appreciate. Of course.”
I shook my head, unable to keep the small smile from my lips.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll eat.”
And it took me no damn time to peel the lid off the container and smile at the watermelon chunks inside. Picking one out with my thumb and index finger, I joked. “Fruit?” I asked. “I’d never pictured you chopping watermelon, Jax.”
“But you pictured me,” he deadpanned, his cocky lips twisting up as he pulled the shifter down, powering ahead as if he knew everything.
I rolled my eyes, not even entertaining the idea of walking into that one any further. Sliding a piece of watermelon between my teeth, I bit the red cube in half, loving the grainy texture against my tongue. Sweet juice filled my mouth, and my stomach growled again, in appreciation.
Sucking the nectar to the back of my tongue, I swallowed and placed a hand over my mouth. “This is really good.” I nearly laughed, because I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. “Thanks.”
But glancing over at Jax, I lost my smile immediately. His straight face was focused out on the road, and he looked almost angry. The car had slowed, and an air of awkwardness had settled in his narrowed eyes.
“Am I eating your lunch?” I asked, all of a sudden feeling angry that he had bullied me into eating. “I told you I was fine—”
He cut me off. “Eat. Please.”
And I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, looking unsettled.
Unsure about his change in mood, I couldn’t figure out what to do. So I finally just continued munching, feeling the void in my stomach filling as Jax drove us through waterlogged streets.
Crossfade’s “The Deep End” filled the space around us, and I was lost, barely trying to hide how I watched him.
He did the whole guy thing as he drove—body pressed into the seat back, arm steel-rod straight on the steering wheel at twelve o’clock, and chin down. But whenever he shifted up or down, my gaze flashed to his hand, reveling in the cords of his forearm and how they flexed when he changed speeds. And I loved how the car gained momentum and the engine roared and vibrated, making my thighs shake.
I wanted to be able to drive like that.
I’d never asked Liam to teach me, even though he probably would have. Aside from all the damn cheating, my boyfriend—er, ex-boyfriend—was actually a nice guy and easy to get along with.
But I never thought I could learn. Which was stupid. I held my own in school. It wasn’t as though I was incapable of learning something new.
I kept eating, glancing down every time he shifted to watch him. Trying to memorize how he timed pressing in the clutch with shifting the gears and chewing as I studied his legs and arms all working to keep the car going.
My mother had taken me to the symphony in Chicago when I was little, and I remember watching the conductor while everyone else watched the musicians. The power of leading, of knowing when to push and pull, fascinated me. I was envious of having control like that. Of guiding so many instruments in a unified effort to create something so beautiful. It was like a magnificent puzzle, and you just had to find the right way—or maybe just your way—to fit them all together.
I chewed softly, watching Jax, my eyes moving up and down, following his movements, and I knew damn well that given the choice of the conductor or Jaxon Trent, I’d watch Jaxon Trent.
His long fingers clutching the shift, the muscular calves flexing every time they punched the clutch, the blue eyes that I swore turned black and intense as they stared out the window.
I could watch him work his car forever.
“You need to stop watching me like that.” I heard his voice, and I jerked my attention up to his face.
Shit!
He was still staring out the windshield, lips slightly open and looking cautious.
“What?” I asked, trying to act as though I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I wasn’t just drooling over his driving. But it was useless. My cheeks had warmed, and I’m sure it showed.
“You’re going to get us in a fucking accident,” he scolded.
I scowled. “Me? What did I do?”
He shook his head, letting out a small laugh. “Do me a favor, would you?” His voice was soft and smooth, threatening in how quickly he turned sensual.
He shot his eyes to me, and I closed my mouth, gulping the bit of watermelon I’d been chewing. Why the hell was he looking at me like that?
He jerked his chin at me. “The watermelon juice spilling over your lip?” he indicated. “Lick it up or I will.”
I dropped the piece in my hand and stared at him, stunned and hoping he was kidding. The dare in his eyes, the menace in his soft voice, the danger traveling from his side of the car over to mine—it was no joke. I blinked and turned my gaze back out the front windshield.
Fuck my life.
Darting out my tongue, I snatched up any remnants of juice from my lips and sealed the container back up.
My phone began chirping from my bag, and I reached down to retrieve it, thankful for the distraction. But looking at the screen, I winced.
My mother again. She’d called twice and had now sent another text.
Tate’s house. Ten minutes.
I shook my head and stuffed the phone back into my bag, swallowing the bad taste in my mouth. What the hell did she want?
First she didn’t even bother to make sure I made it home okay, and only a few days later she was calling and texting. Maybe she just couldn’t stand the fact that I hadn’t called her, but all I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to see her. Not today and maybe not for a while.
“Who was that?” Jax questioned.
I sighed, still looking out the window. Why lie? “My mom. She’s waiting at Tate’s house.”
“Why?”
I shrugged, feeling the sadness descend on me. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t talk to him. I couldn’t. Who knew what would happen if I tried opening my mouth right now? And how easily the thought of her face, her voice, her presence had sucked dry the blissful little bubble I’d just been in?
“How am I supposed to know?” I griped. “You ask too many questions.”
I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to hear her voice. I didn’t want her hands on me.
I pursed my lips together, avoiding Jax’s eyes that I could feel on the back of my head.
We rounded the corner onto Fall Away Lane, the weight of the rain barely affecting the speed at which Jax traveled.
I closed my eyes. Please keep going. Please. I clutched the door handle, the hollow ache in my stomach growing as he traveled closer and closer.
Three seconds.
Two.
And then one.
But he didn’t stop.
He didn’t stop! My eyes went wide, and I spun my head around to see his self-satisfied eyebrow arched.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

JAX's mobil dulu Jared's. Saya telah melihat banyak selama bertahun-tahun, dan meskipun lebih tua dari dariMuhamad Camaro, itu pasti neraka yang jauh lebih ketat. Atau mungkin itu hanya terasa lebih solid. Saya tidak tahu. Aku ingat berada di mobil dariMuhamad, menunggu di stoplight dan merasa seolah-olah mesin mobil akan mati atau sesuatu. Hanya cara itu puttered merasa seolah-olah itu berikan setiap saat.Tapi, duduk di GT Mustang hitam Jax's, aku merasa seolah-olah aku sedang duduk di sebuah turbo jet sebagai padat sebagai sebuah peluru jalan itu mudah meluncur melalui hujan lebat. Di dalam, hitam interior bersih adalah gelap dan sempit, seperti berada di sebuah gua. Di luar, angin bertiup lembar hujan di kaca depan. Aku harus juling untuk melihat, karena wiper kaca depan hampir tidak bisa bersaing dengan hujan.Tapi mobil disediakan surga dari hujan berdebar di atap di luar, dan semprotan di bawah ban adalah gema yang jauh.Meskipun saya masih aman dan hangat, saya tidak bisa goyang saraf membuat rambut di lengan saya berdiri. Saya terkepal rok saya dalam tinju saya dan melihat apa-apa keluar jendela.Dia adalah terlalu dekat. Dan — aku menggosok tinju saya turun paha saya hangat-ia tidak cukup dekat."Di sini." JAX berbicara, mengejutkan saya. Dia dicapai di belakang kursi belakang dan melemparkan saya handuk. "Ini bersih."Tentu saja itu. JAX mungkin mendapatkan tangan kotor dari waktu ke waktu, tetapi pakaiannya dan mobil-setidaknya dari apa yang kulihat di luar — yang selalu Cibubur. Neraka, bahkan rumahnya tampak indah ketika aku berada di sana.“Thanks,” I said as I caught it at my chest.Something to do. Anything …I reached down and brushed off the droplets of rain that had drenched my legs, and then slipped out of my flip-flops to pat my feet dry.I hadn’t gotten completely soaked, and Jax had driven the car as close to the school as he could, but I still caught an onslaught of fat drops. My clothes were blotched with nickel-size circles, and some of my hair was sticking to my neck and shoulders.Brushing up my thighs, I straightened my back against the seat and wiped the water off my bare arms.But I was still shit out of luck.He was watching me, and I could damn well feel it.Turning around, I placed the towel in the backseat again and stilled when the grumbling of my stomach—evidence that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast—burst forth in the otherwise quiet car.Shit. I twisted back around and fastened my seat belt, hoping he hadn’t heard it.No such luck.“Are you hungry?” Jax looked over at me. “I have some snacks if you want.”“No, I’m fine,” I mumbled, not making eye contact.But then my belly whirred again, and I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my stomach, melting into the seat.“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he chuckled, and I opened my eyes to see him reaching behind the seat again and digging a container out of his duffel bag. “Eat,” he ordered, dumping a plastic Tupperware container in my lap.I pursed my lips. Why did he have to sound so condescending all the time?“I’m fine,” I said flatly, turning my glare out the window. “I’ll be home soon anyway.”“So I can give you a ride home, but you won’t eat my food?”My eyes widened, and I looked over at him. “You made me let you give me a ride home,” I pointed out, and then added quietly, “Which I appreciate. Of course.”I shook my head, unable to keep the small smile from my lips.“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll eat.”And it took me no damn time to peel the lid off the container and smile at the watermelon chunks inside. Picking one out with my thumb and index finger, I joked. “Fruit?” I asked. “I’d never pictured you chopping watermelon, Jax.”“But you pictured me,” he deadpanned, his cocky lips twisting up as he pulled the shifter down, powering ahead as if he knew everything.I rolled my eyes, not even entertaining the idea of walking into that one any further. Sliding a piece of watermelon between my teeth, I bit the red cube in half, loving the grainy texture against my tongue. Sweet juice filled my mouth, and my stomach growled again, in appreciation.Sucking the nectar to the back of my tongue, I swallowed and placed a hand over my mouth. “This is really good.” I nearly laughed, because I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. “Thanks.”But glancing over at Jax, I lost my smile immediately. His straight face was focused out on the road, and he looked almost angry. The car had slowed, and an air of awkwardness had settled in his narrowed eyes.“Am I eating your lunch?” I asked, all of a sudden feeling angry that he had bullied me into eating. “I told you I was fine—”He cut me off. “Eat. Please.”And I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, looking unsettled.Unsure about his change in mood, I couldn’t figure out what to do. So I finally just continued munching, feeling the void in my stomach filling as Jax drove us through waterlogged streets.Crossfade’s “The Deep End” filled the space around us, and I was lost, barely trying to hide how I watched him.He did the whole guy thing as he drove—body pressed into the seat back, arm steel-rod straight on the steering wheel at twelve o’clock, and chin down. But whenever he shifted up or down, my gaze flashed to his hand, reveling in the cords of his forearm and how they flexed when he changed speeds. And I loved how the car gained momentum and the engine roared and vibrated, making my thighs shake.I wanted to be able to drive like that.I’d never asked Liam to teach me, even though he probably would have. Aside from all the damn cheating, my boyfriend—er, ex-boyfriend—was actually a nice guy and easy to get along with.But I never thought I could learn. Which was stupid. I held my own in school. It wasn’t as though I was incapable of learning something new.I kept eating, glancing down every time he shifted to watch him. Trying to memorize how he timed pressing in the clutch with shifting the gears and chewing as I studied his legs and arms all working to keep the car going.
My mother had taken me to the symphony in Chicago when I was little, and I remember watching the conductor while everyone else watched the musicians. The power of leading, of knowing when to push and pull, fascinated me. I was envious of having control like that. Of guiding so many instruments in a unified effort to create something so beautiful. It was like a magnificent puzzle, and you just had to find the right way—or maybe just your way—to fit them all together.
I chewed softly, watching Jax, my eyes moving up and down, following his movements, and I knew damn well that given the choice of the conductor or Jaxon Trent, I’d watch Jaxon Trent.
His long fingers clutching the shift, the muscular calves flexing every time they punched the clutch, the blue eyes that I swore turned black and intense as they stared out the window.
I could watch him work his car forever.
“You need to stop watching me like that.” I heard his voice, and I jerked my attention up to his face.
Shit!
He was still staring out the windshield, lips slightly open and looking cautious.
“What?” I asked, trying to act as though I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I wasn’t just drooling over his driving. But it was useless. My cheeks had warmed, and I’m sure it showed.
“You’re going to get us in a fucking accident,” he scolded.
I scowled. “Me? What did I do?”
He shook his head, letting out a small laugh. “Do me a favor, would you?” His voice was soft and smooth, threatening in how quickly he turned sensual.
He shot his eyes to me, and I closed my mouth, gulping the bit of watermelon I’d been chewing. Why the hell was he looking at me like that?
He jerked his chin at me. “The watermelon juice spilling over your lip?” he indicated. “Lick it up or I will.”
I dropped the piece in my hand and stared at him, stunned and hoping he was kidding. The dare in his eyes, the menace in his soft voice, the danger traveling from his side of the car over to mine—it was no joke. I blinked and turned my gaze back out the front windshield.
Fuck my life.
Darting out my tongue, I snatched up any remnants of juice from my lips and sealed the container back up.
My phone began chirping from my bag, and I reached down to retrieve it, thankful for the distraction. But looking at the screen, I winced.
My mother again. She’d called twice and had now sent another text.
Tate’s house. Ten minutes.
I shook my head and stuffed the phone back into my bag, swallowing the bad taste in my mouth. What the hell did she want?
First she didn’t even bother to make sure I made it home okay, and only a few days later she was calling and texting. Maybe she just couldn’t stand the fact that I hadn’t called her, but all I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to see her. Not today and maybe not for a while.
“Who was that?” Jax questioned.
I sighed, still looking out the window. Why lie? “My mom. She’s waiting at Tate’s house.”
“Why?”
I shrugged, feeling the sadness descend on me. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t talk to him. I couldn’t. Who knew what would happen if I tried opening my mouth right now? And how easily the thought of her face, her voice, her presence had sucked dry the blissful little bubble I’d just been in?
“How am I supposed to know?” I griped. “You ask too many questions.”
I didn’t want to see her. I didn’t want to hear her voice. I didn’t want her hands on me.
I pursed my lips together, avoiding Jax’s eyes that I could feel on the back of my head.
We rounded the corner onto Fall Away Lane, the weight of the rain barely affecting the speed at which Jax traveled.
I closed my eyes. Please keep going. Please. I clutched the door handle, the hollow ache in my stomach growing as he traveled closer and closer.
Three seconds.
Two.
And then one.
But he didn’t stop.
He didn’t stop! My eyes went wide, and I spun my head around to see his self-satisfied eyebrow arched.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?”