Ford
"NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE IT."
What feels like all too soon, I'm yanked from my deep sleep. Groaning, I rub my eyes, already identifying the voice as Jax, especially with that amused veneer to it. I'd been awake for much of the night because of both my insomnia and the sofa is just that damn uncomfortable, and right now I feel like I could sleep for longer, but I know my body. I won't trickle into that desired slumber again now.
My voice is brimming with sleep as I mutter, "See what?"
My eyes crack open to find Jax leaning against the doorframe, shooting me an undeniable shit-eating grin. Shaking my head, I readjust my necklace as one of my bullets is pressed harshly against my neck at an uncomfortable angle. As I lay it atop my chest with the other two, I reaffix my eyes onto Jax, raising my eyebrows as I prompt him for an answer.
"Ford Brody giving up his bed for a girl. I saw the sock on the door handle, and I already know it's for Genevieve. No need to beat around the bush with me. What happened last night?"
I rehash the details to him as I'm still in the process of properly waking up, leading up to even confessing about the kiss, though I omit most of the details of what I admitted to Genevieve. Jax is positively gleeful by the end, slapping the doorframe with uncontrolled excitement.
"I always knew you had it in you, Ford." He pauses. "So, have you fucked her yet?"
I groan, draping my arm over my eyes to shield them from the light, and also because I knew if I were to even glance at Jax's smug face I'd feel more inclined to make good on my ensuing promise. "Not you as well. I already had the third degree from Harris not too long back."
"He kept bragging she's good at riding when he dated her."
My hand curls into a fist under the blanket. "Knock it off, man. Red Alert code or not, I'll still beat the shit out of you."
Jax's chuckle resonates around the lounge as I hear his footsteps approach and then recede, and no doubt he's entering the kitchen. For times like this, it makes me truly hate the house where we have to march through the lounge to get to the kitchen, but there are several rooms on the other side of the house that are unused unless you desire more privacy than your bedroom. But we're too far gone with this property to swap out the lounge for one of those rooms, and now we're stuck with this predicament.
But if you enter the lounge to find one of the guys on the sofa? That's seldom ever happened in our house before.
Groaning, I lean across to the coffee table and reach blindly for my phone. The screen illuminates and I wince. It's way too fucking early, but that must mean Jax has a class first thing. Off the top of my head, I fail to recall whether Genevieve has a class as early too, but I should probably wake her anyway, especially if she needs her stuff back from her house.
My head falls back against the arm rest with the reminder of my morning wood concealed under the blanket. There's no way I'm getting up to wake her up while I've got a fucking tent in my boxers.
But apparently, I don't need to.
"Ford?"
My eyes open instinctively as Genevieve steps around the door into view. She stands there uncertainly, donning the attire she wore yesterday. My stomach deflates at not getting a preview of her clad only in my T-shirt, but I have to remind myself that there's plenty of time for that in the future. If she'll have me—accepting my confessions from last night—there's a whole lifetime worth of that. I hope.
The staggering realization drowns me with disbelief and fear, but the tantalisation of Genevieve being mine overwhelms my concerns. It almost makes me want to smile, but the nervousness radiating from Genevieve is damn near crippling for me.
