Chapter Fifteen

It starts getting colder.

I cross my arms and tuck my hands under them, hoping Jaxon won't notice. But, of course, he does.

"You're shivering," he observes, already reaching into the backseat. Before I can protest, he tosses a hoodie at me. "Put it on."

I roll my eyes but pull the hoodie over my head anyway. It's warm—and it smells like him, which is definitely not something I'm going to think about.

"Wow," Jaxon says, tilting his head. "I think this is the first time you've willingly accepted something from me."

I roll my eyes. "Don't get used to it."

A car passes, its headlights flashing across the dashboard, then fading into the distance. The tow truck is still nowhere in sight.

"You know," Jaxon says, stretching his arms behind his head, "if this were a rom-com, this would be the part where we realize our undeniable chemistry and make out under the stars."

I shoot him a look. "If this were a horror movie, I'd be the final girl, and you'd die first."

He laughs, the sound warm and effortless. "Fair enough."

Silence settles between us again, but it's not uncomfortable. I find myself watching Jaxon out of the corner of my eye. The way he absentmindedly spins his keys around his finger. The way his jaw clenches slightly like he's thinking about something he doesn't want to say.

"What?" I ask.

He exhales, staring out at the road. "Nothing. Just... my dad's going to kill me for missing practice."

I frown. "Missing one practice isn't a big deal."

Jaxon scoffs. "Yeah, tell him that." He shakes his head. "He already thinks I'm slacking."

"Yeah, well, sometimes that's not enough." He shrugs, but there's tension in his shoulders. "My dad thinks I should be doing more—extra workouts, private training, focusing on nothing but basketball. He acts like if I'm not constantly improving, I'm falling behind."

His words sink in, and suddenly, everything about Jaxon Walker makes more sense.

The way he pushes himself harder than anyone else. The way he's always at the gym, always practising, always chasing perfection like it's the only thing keeping him afloat.

I hesitate before speaking, but the words come out anyway. "You know, you don't have to prove anything to anyone."

Jaxon's fingers pause on his keys, his usual effortless movements stilled.

I press on. "You already work harder than anyone on the team. You're not a machine, Jaxon. You don't have to destroy yourself chasing some impossible version of perfect."

He turns his head slightly, looking at me in a way that makes my stomach flip. Something flickers behind his usual confidence—something raw.

For a second, I think he might actually say something real, something deeper. But then he just smirks, like he's shaking it off. "Didn't realize I was getting a motivational speech tonight."

I roll my eyes. "I'm just saying, maybe you should give yourself a break sometimes."

He exhales, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Maybe."

Before he can say anything else, a set of headlights appears in the distance.

Finally, the tow truck.

The driver gets out, a burly guy with a mustache. "You kids okay?"

"Depends," Jaxon says, deadpan. "Can you fix our cosmic misfortune too?"

The driver chuckles, hooking up the truck. "You two dating or what?"

I choke. "Absolutely not."

Jaxon grins. "Not yet."

I elbow him hard.

"Ow! Okay, okay, I'm kidding."

The driver just shakes his head. "Young love. Always in denial."

I groan, burying my face in my hands. This night cannot get any worse.