Fearless (Forever 7)

"Man," Kev said with a laugh, "And I thought the party we crashed last night was wild."

I blinked, then mentally kicked myself for being so stupid. Of course he hadn't told them, or at least not the whole truth. But that left me unsure about what to say until I found out exactly what he had said.

The faces around me were eager for my response. I hesitated, then said, "Ours wasn't much of a party."

"Yeah, Jax told us," Sky said. "It's happened a couple times before. He beats a lot of people at pool."

Chewie smirked. "Not all of them take it so well."

I snapped my head up and peered at Jax. So that was his story.

Sky looked at me sympathetically. All I could think was, you don't know the half of it.

"You should've seen Riley whipping her cue around, Bruce Lee style." Jax shook his head. "I never saw anything like it." He leaned over and kissed my unbruised cheek. "My baby is such a badass."

I feigned a smile, confused and slightly embarrassed that Jax's made-up story was beginning to border on parody. But judging from the band's bored expressions, they'd heard crazier.

"Too bad you guys didn't come with us," Sky said, a huge grin suddenly streaking across her face as she changed the subject. "We partied at Lizzie Boham's house! It was so wild."

If they'd gone to Lizzie Boham's house, then they must have been hanging with the A-list Hollywood crowd. And I'd read stories about the excessive, booze- and drug-fueled parties at Boham's Beverly Hills mansion. "Really?" I asked, glad to be changing the topic. "Did you crash it?"

Kev shook his head emphatically. "She was at the gig and dropped us invites. I think she was disappointed Jax didn't show." He made a wry face. "Figures."

Chewie laughed. "No, man, she got over it. Once I rolled her a tasty blunt, she forgot about him real good."

Jax reached over, wincing a little, and poked Chewie's shoulder playfully. "Watch out—if you keep hanging with her you might make the tabloids."

The more Jax acted like nothing had happened, the more concerned I felt about him. Burning down your childhood home wasn't the kind of thing you could walk away from without some permanent scarring.

"Nah," Chewie said before taking a giant rip of the bong. He exhaled a skunky cloud of smoke towards the ceiling. "I can do that by myself. But if she wants to tag along, I won't stop her."

Everyone laughed, and I snuck another look at Jax. Just a glance at his handsome,bruised face made my heart beat a little faster. He was smiling along with the rest of the band, laughing like it was any other day.

His lightheartedness, bordering almost on cheerful, struck me as unusual. Then again, I remembered how I'd laughed right after we'd gotten back. Maybe Jax was just now having the same rush of excited relief I'd had before.

Jax's hand darted out with lightning-quick reflexes as he grabbed the remote from Kev and turned up the volume on the TV. "This stuff came out really good." The camera panned around the stage, stopping momentarily to highlight each of the band members, then zoomed in close to Jax's face. The Jax on TV held the microphone close to his lips, his eyes squeezed shut, with his voice rising in passionate abandon.

Sky laughed and pointed at the screen. "You look like you're about to give that microphone a blowjob."

I whipped my head around to look at Jax, expecting to see him scowling with irritation. Instead, Jax just grinned. "Nah, that's not my style."

I managed a small smile. A real one, this time. But I was also burning to talk to Jax alone, to see how he was doing. Unfortunately, the band looked comfortably camped out, watching the footage.

"We're just lucky they filmed this before you went and got your head bashed in," Kev observed. "That wouldn't have looked so good."

Jax just shrugged and we all kept watching the TV. After about ten minutes though, he pressed pause. "You guys don't have to keep watching if you don't want to." He turned to Sky. "Didn't you say you wanted to hit the beach?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I could finish watching it later. I want to soak up as much sun as I can while I'm here. Anyone with me?"

"Me," Kev said, a grin lighting up his boyish face. "I could use some waves."

Chewie stood up too and stuck his drumstick in his back pocket. "Yeah, and I could check out the babes. I like me some California girls." He began humming the Beach Boys song under his breath.

Sky turned to me and Jax. "What about you two?"

Jax shook his head. "No, I want to finish watching this."

"And I'm still tired from last night," I chimed in, relieved that Jax had found a way for us to be alone.

The band horsed around as they got their swim stuff together, with Chewie taking the time to rip another couple massive hits on the bong. Then they left the bus, earnestly and loudly debating whether to hit Venice Beach or Santa Monica.

It was just the two of us now.

I curled my legs up on the couch and shifted around to look carefully at Jax. He'd set the ice pack down, and the lightheartedness in his face had switched to concern.

He touched my cheek, his eyes resting on the scrape I'd gotten last night. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with urgency. "I was so messed up last night, I didn't even check you out."

"I'm fine," I protested as Jax picked up my hand and looked at it closely. "I want to ask about you."

"This is a burn," he said, ignoring my words and pointing to the small red spot where the molotov cocktail had singed my skin. He got up and grabbed the first aid kit from the table.

"It's nothing," I said, knowing that my minor scrapes and bruises were nothing to fuss about. But Jax just opened the kit anyway and took out a small bandage. His brow furrowed as he secured it over my tiny burn.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked when he finished, his eyes filled with concern.

My heart swelled with a sudden rush of affection. How could he be so hurt himself, and still worry over me?

"I'm fine," I insisted gently. "But what about you? Should we call the doctor?"

A flash of emotion clouded his face, but then it was gone. "I'm fine too. Actually, I feel a lot better."

I peered at him, wanting to take his word for it, but the memory of his gigantic bruise left me still doubtful. "Are you sure about that? Last night—" I cut myself off, not wanting to force Jax to relive the memories.

"I'm sure," he replied, his voice firm. I knew that tone. When he sounded like that, there was no arguing with him. I would have to respect that he knew his own body—if he said he was fine, then it must really not be as bad as it looked.