Everything I Can Never Have (Age & Innocence Book 2)

by M Johnson

  “No.” I shake my head. “At least, not today. What I need to do is get my mind off him and study or I’m not going to pass my exams. I’m not throwing my life away over some guy.”

  “Fine,” Quinn reluctantly agrees.

  We spend the rest of the evening studying. Well, I try to study—I don’t get beyond staring blankly at my biology textbook. As much as I try to make sense of it, I can’t concentrate. All I can think about is Zave and it’s driving me crazy.

  “Let me guess,” Quinn says when I release my tenth sigh in the space of five minutes. “You can’t concentrate.”

  I nod. There’s no point in denying it.

  “Now will you agree it’s time to do something?”

  “Like what, though?” I ask, frustration seeping into my voice. “What can I do that I haven’t already tried? I’m, like, two steps away from stalking the poor man.”

  “So, try a different approach.” Her eyes shine as she drops her pen and sits back. “Flirt with someone else in front of him.”

  I blink at her. “What? Now?”

  “Why not? If he doesn’t want to be with you, he can’t get angry if you flirt with someone else, right?”

  My heart races as what Quinn is suggesting sinks in. The thought honestly never even crossed my mind. It’s stupid, immature, and it goes against everything I try to be, but it’s the best plan I’ve got at the moment. I press my lips together, determination flooding through me. I’m not ready to give up on us yet, because if there’s one thing my father taught me, it’s don’t give up on something you think is worth fighting for. Not until you put every last ounce of your energy into trying to make it happen. Flirting with some other guy right under his nose is bound to induce some sort of reaction. And if it doesn’t, I’ll suck it up and move on.

  “Okay.” I nod, slamming my book shut. “Let’s do it.”

  She lets out a squeal of excitement and grabs me by the hand, dragging me upstairs. I stand back and watch her rummage through my closet, no doubt looking for something slutty for me to wear. She pulls out a pair of jeans and tosses them at me.

  Not just any jeans, though; really fucking tight ones. So much so that I have to lie down on the bed to get them up over my thighs. Ten minutes later, I finally manage to zip them up. I get to my feet, flustered and panting like I’ve just ran a marathon. I’m beginning to remember why I hate wearing these. Too bad for me if anyone wants to get them off.

  “Great, now put this on,” Quinn says, throwing a top at me.

  I do as I’m told, then I wander into the bathroom to check myself out in the mirror. My eyes widen, because holy fuck, I look good. The jeans are so tight, they look like they’re painted on, and the sparkly black and gold spaghetti strap top dips low enough in the front to show off a lot of cleavage.

  “Well?” Quinn demands. “Am I right?”

  “You’re right.” I nod.

  “Let me do your hair,” Quinn insists.

  I reluctantly sit down in front of the mirror to fix my makeup while Quinn gets to work on my hair, twisting it up into a messy bun and securing it with a few pins.

  “I never wear it up,” I say, self-consciously touching my neck.

  “You should. Guys go crazy over a naked neck. Trust me.”

  It does make me look older…

  “How are we getting there?” I ask,

  “I’ll drive,” Quinn says with a shrug.

  “And drink?” My eyes narrow.

  “No, Mum.” Her eyes twinkle. “Trust me, I won’t be there long enough to drink.” Then she leaves me to finish getting ready, planning to pick me up in a few minutes.

  My phone rings and my heart does a little leap. I pick it up, hoping for Zave, but it’s just Dad. Pushing my disappointment aside, I press Answer. Aside from a few texts, I haven’t spoken to him since the night he left.

  “Hey, kiddo, how are things?”

  “Dad, hey.”

  I smile, his voice a reminder of just how much I miss him. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I’ve been so distracted with Zave that it feels like a lot longer.

  “How are you doing?” I ask. “Any idea how long you’ll be away?”

  “At least a couple of weeks, I think.” That should disappoint me, but the idea of having Zave around for a little bit longer sends shivers racing down my spine. “How are you? Ready for exams?”

  “You know me.” I laugh nervously. “I’m always prepared. Quinn and I are about to go out for a drink—”

  “Isn’t it a school night?”

  “It’s still early,” I remind him. “And we won’t be out long. It’s a reward for studying so hard all day.”

  “Just make sure you stop at one drink,” Dad murmurs. “And if Quinn is drinking, make sure she doesn’t drive—”

  “Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?” I cut in. “Besides, I’m an adult, remember?” Constantly reminding him of that has become somewhat of a joke.

  “Right, so you keep telling me.” He chuckles. “One day, you’ll have kids and realise how hard it is to let go. You’ll always be my little girl.”

  I glance at the clock on my bedside table and wince because I’m running late.

  “Can I call you back tomorrow?” I ask, glancing out the window. “My ride will be here any second.”

  “Sure, have a good night. And say hi to Zave for me. I hope you’re not giving him too hard a time.”

  “Not at all,” I say, biting my lip. “Love you, Dad.”

  “Love you, too, kiddo.”

  Slipping on my heels, I study my reflection in the mirror—the woman staring back at me is both sexy and sophisticated. Drawing in a deep breath, I take one last look in the mirror and race downstairs. As I walk outside to Quinn’s car, the doubts begin to creep in, but I push them aside because Quinn is right. Zave has made it clear he doesn’t want me.

  So, where’s the harm in dressing up and going out to have some fun?

  Chapter 12

  Xavier

  Thanks to my barman being a no-show tonight, it’s eleven on a Thursday evening and I’m stuck working the bar. It’s a lot different being behind the counter than in front of it, but it’s a good kind of different. Being constantly in motion is also a good way to distract myself from this situation with Sofie. At least it is in theory—too bad for me my mind doesn’t agree.

  This morning I came close to really fucking up and seeing her react that way really hit home exactly what I’m messing with. She’s still so young, so impressionable. It was the confirmation I need. She’s a little girl in way over her head and I’m not going to be the one that ruins her.

  “There you go, have a nice night.”

  I slide a couple of mojitos across the bar to some girls who can’t be much older than Sofie. They flutter their lashes at me, sliding a fifty back over the counter.

  “Keep the change, handsome,” one of them purrs, sending them both into an explosion of giggles.

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes as they shove their upper bodies against the bar, tits practically spilling out of their tight dresses. They might regret saying that when they try their drinks—I’m not exactly channelling Tom Cruise back here. They walk off, so I move on to the next customer. I look up and freeze, my heart pounding in my chest, because it’s Sofie.

  She’s wearing some skimpy top which clings to her breasts like a second skin, tight jeans, her gorgeous long hair is twisted up into a knot, drawing my attention to the dangerously sexy curve of her bare neck. But it’s the mischievous sparkle in her eyes that really captures my attention. They glimmer as they narrow in on mine. I bite down on my tongue, hard enough to taste copper, fighting the urge to show any reaction, but who am I kidding? She can see right through the act I’m putting on.

  “What are you doing here?” Like I need to ask. I’m sure it’s just to get a rise out of me and it’s fucking working. “It’s a school night.”

  “So? It’s not like I have anyone at home to parent me,�
�� she taunts.

  Her lips purse as she rests on her elbows on the bar, her gorgeous breasts practically spilling out of her tight black and gold top. I swallow because she’s easily the sexiest girl in this place and I’m not the only one who’s noticed. Seeing other men ogle her—some even older than me—makes me want to kill someone. My hands clench into fists as I struggle to control the mix of emotions surging through me.

  “Go home, Sofie.”

  This is meant to be my space, a place where I don’t have to worry about my best friend’s gorgeous, barely legal daughter trying to throw herself at me every chance she gets, in ways that I’m finding increasingly difficult to ignore.

  “No.” Sofie arches an eyebrow, her smile not faltering for a second. “I’m here with my friend and I’d like to order a drink.”

  “I’m not serving you,” I snap, my tone icy.

  “Under what grounds?” she asks with a laugh, her hand on her hip.

  “I don’t need a reason. This is my bar,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “You don’t want to serve me, fine, I’ll ask someone else.”

  “The hell you will,” I grumble.

  “I can’t believe you,” she mutters, her blue eyes flashing. “You made it clear you don’t want to be with me, which means you can’t dictate what I do with my time, Xavier.”

  Christ, the way she says my name… it puts all kinds of terrible images in my head, like bending her over this bar and listening to her scream repeatedly as I pound into her.

  I glower at her, my blood boiling. “It’s not that easy—”

  “It never is with you,” she mutters. She turns around and scans the crowd. “There has to be someone here man enough to own his feelings.”

  “I said go home.” I bite each word out, daring her to push me.

  “And I said no.” Her icy tone matches mine.

  She pushes away from the bar, her body, feline and tempting as all hell, her ass practically bursting out of her jeans. I swallow, my eyes on her as she turns and walks away, her hips swaying with every fucking step. God, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t look away because she’s fucking beautiful.

  I clench my jaw hard enough to make my temples ache, the thought of her getting close with anyone other than me too much to handle. The idea of anyone else touching her, tasting her, hearing her say their name like she says mine…

  Fuck my life.

  “Jordan,” I bark, calling over a waiter when I catch him leering at her. Every fucking set of male eyes in this place is looking in her direction and they’re all thinking the same thing.

  “Yes, boss?”

  “Nobody serves her. Got it?” He nods, wide-eyed and clearly terrified of me. “She’s underage,” I add in a calmer, more controlled voice.

  He visibly relaxes, the colour flooding back into his face. “They’ll try anything, huh?”

  I nod. “Can you let the others know, please? She’s got a pretty convincing ID, but I know her personally.”

  Stepping out from behind the bar, I keep my eyes on Sofie, watching her every move. I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of her long, bare neck, or the way that sparkly top hugs her tiny waist. It fits her like a goddamn glove. And fuck me, those jeans… they should be illegal.

  My jaw clenches as she flirts with two young guys about her age, my lip twisting up into a sneer. They wouldn’t know how to please her if someone gave them a fucking guided tour.

  I can’t retreat because of the fire raging inside me. I can’t put up a fight because she’s my best friend’s kid. I can’t do anything other than stand here, serving drinks, while watching her flounce like she’s determined to show me exactly what I’m missing out on.

  As if I don’t already know.

  Stubborn, gorgeous, fucking determined girl.

  God, I fucking hate how much she’s getting to me. I want to shake some sense into her, then turn her around and fuck the fear of life into her. When I ignore her, it just makes her act out even more. My shoulders tense hard enough to make my lower back cramp as I watch her decide that the young guys aren’t getting enough of a rise out of me.

  She struts over to Jordan, no doubt to try and order a drink off him. I watch her expression go from sweet and seductive to enraged in a matter of seconds. She whips around and glares at me. I smirk back and give her a little wave.

  Sure, I’m being childish, but who cares?

  She started it.

  With a determined look in her eyes, she saunters over to a group of arrogant white-collar types who look like they spend way too much time at the gym. They’re sitting in a booth in the corner, and my upper lip twitches when one of them lets out a low whistle as she approaches them. When one of them puts their arm around her and tugs her close to his big, muscled body, something in me snaps. I can tolerate a lot of things, but this behaviour in my own fucking bar isn’t one of them. I stalk over to her and grab her wrist, yanking her out of the guy’s grip.

  “You need to come with me, right now,” I bark.

  “Hey, hey, there’s no need for that,” the dude who was holding her says, his eyes narrowed. His cheeks are rosy as he rises to his feet, no doubt trying to make himself look as physically intimidating as possible. “We were just having a nice conversation—”

  He doesn’t even get the words out before my free fist is swinging and knocking him square in the jaw. He’s a big guy and I’m swinging with my non-dominant hand, so it doesn’t do much damage, but it’s enough to send him stumbling back.

  “You can have a nice conversation with someone who isn’t my underage daughter,” I hiss, tightening my hand around Sofie’s wrist.

  “Excuse me? What the hell is wrong with you?” Sofie hisses at me.

  “No, it’s okay,” the guy mutters, backing off. He and his friends quickly grab their things and turn towards the door. “We were just leaving, anyway.”

  “Glad to hear it.” I wave at them.

  Tightening my fingers around Sofie’s wrist, hard enough I can feel the tendons and bones in it, I yank her out to the courtyard, where we’d had our first kiss.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demands, her cheeks flushed. “How dare you tell him I’m your daughter!”

  “I’m stopping you from winding up raped and murdered in an alley,” I snap, whirling on her and finally letting her go. She rubs at her wrist, biting her lower lip, and glares at me.

  "It’s not rape if it's consensual," she bites back.

  “Like he could’ve satisfied you.”

  “Because that’s the point,” she retorts. I grit my teeth, trying not to rise to the bait, something Sofie has become very good at dangling in front of me, but fuck, it’s hard not to “And out of the two of you, you’re the more violent one right now.”

  “You’re just asking for trouble, throwing yourself at any guy who’ll give you the time of day,” I growl, hurt that she can’t see how potentially dangerous that situation was.

  Her eyes flash, angry and bright. I need to get her out of here before I do something I’ll regret. I can’t leave her here to make a stupid decision I know she’ll regret later. I grab her arm.

  “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

  “Like hell you are!” she hisses, yanking herself free.

  I roll my eyes, and physically hoist her up, throwing her over my shoulder. She shrieks, kicking at me, her fists beating against my back, but I ignore her pleas and carry her around the outside rear exit, towards the parking lot.

  “Let me go!” she yells, breathless and high-pitched.

  I grit my teeth and open the door to my car, setting her down and shoving her inside. She folds her arms across her chest like a petulant child, glaring forward, while I walk around and get into the driver’s side. Before I get in, I call Jordan and ask him to keep an eye on the place for me until I get back.

  “Who are you texting?” I stiffen when I see her fingers frantically punching at her phone.

  “Quinn,
if that’s okay with you.” The sarcasm in her voice is unmistakeable. “Just so she knows I haven’t been abducted by some crazy maniac—oh, wait. I have. You’re acting like a complete jackass, by the way,” she adds, her eyes blazing.

  I clench my jaw, knuckles white on the steering wheel as I drive us out of the parking lot.

  “Yeah, well you’re acting like a—”

  I stop myself short of saying something I know I’ll regret.

  “Like what, Zave? Say it,” she hisses.

  “You were throwing yourself around in there, trying to rile me up,” I roar, snapping my head around to glare at her, before turning back to the road. “You don’t think you’re worth more than that, Sofie? Because I sure as hell do.”

  “Fuck you.” Her head tilts to one side, her cheeks coloured brightly with offence. “You’re not my father,” she says. “And you’ve made it pretty clear you have no interest in being anything else to me, so what I do and who I do it with is none of your damn business.”

  “It’s my business because your father told me to watch out for you, and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

  She clenches her jaw and glares forward again.

  “Stop the car,” she demands a few minutes later. “I’m going to walk home.”

  “Like hell you are,” I reply with a snort. “It’s one in the morning.”

  She lets out a quiet, angry growl and reaches out to yank on the steering wheel. I slam on the brakes, pulling off the road, and chase her when she hurriedly scrambles out of the car.

  “What the fuck was that?” I yell, catching up to her and grabbing her to make her stop. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

  “It got you to stop the car,” she replies, whirling on me, her bright, angry eyes as triumphant as the satisfied smirk on her lips. “Admittedly, it wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but it’s no worse than you throwing me over your shoulder and hauling me out of your bar like I’m your fucking property.” She lets out a hysterical laugh. “I mean, who does that?”

  “Property?” I retort, tightening my grip. I look around, aware the street we’re on is a quiet, back road that hardly anyone drives on. She’s still breathing hard, glaring at me, and I feel the last bit of my control snap. “You think that was treating you like fucking property?”