-From your POV-

There we were. J, shirtless, and in a mood as he sat in one of the armchairs in the living room. And me, sitting on my couch preparing for some hell-of an encounter. "A henchmen slumber party, huh?" he says.

"One stays over each night. It alternates." I explain.

"Do the rest of them wear sweatpants and watch movies with you and kiss you goodnight as well?" he asks in a pointed tone. I sigh and rub my temple with one hand.

"It was nice seeing you after two weeks too, J." I say sarcastically. It goes quiet for a minute. "So tell me, who's blood was on your clothes?" I ask him.

"Does it matter?" he snaps back. I sigh.

"It does now." I say back. He slouches in his seat slightly.

"Bones.... Speaking of the bastard, why didn't you kill him when you had the chance?" he asks me. I think for a moment and shrug.

"It was a waste of a bullet." I say flatly. He scoffs and laughs slightly.

"Right." he says.

"Right?" I ask.

"Are you sure you didn't have feelings towards him?" he asks in an accusatory tone. My eyebrows furrow at this wild accusation.

"I don't know does beating someone almost to death and then planting an information bug that got them killed translate to feelings?" I say back.

"I don't know, is that in the sociopath handbook?" he snaps back. I slightly scoff at his remark and then just chuckle before slowly shaking my head.

"You've been avoiding me, haven't you? I showed up to the clubs a couple times and not a trace of you there. I know how often you go to that place to do business. And nothing. You haven't texted, called, visited, anything." I say back sternly.

"The phone works both ways, darling." he says calmly. We just sit and stare at each other when I hear the dryer buzz. "Please, allow me." I get up from the sofa and go to the machine, opening the door. I stick my hand in and feel that these clothes aren't just dry, they're piping hot. Almost as if they were already dry but put in the dryer for an extra cycle. I just scoff and shake my head.

I walk back into the living room and throw them at him and he catches. I sit back down on the sofa and he begins by sliding his shirt on, followed by his socks and then he gets his shoes from wherever it was he left them. Nobody said a single word to each other, I just walked over to the coat rack, grabbed a hoodie and some shoes and my keys and threw them on.

The car ride was long and silent. You could cut the tension with a chainsaw. As we were getting closer to the destination, I decide to break it. "Even though you're pissed off at me, I'm glad I got to see you tonight." I confess. Which was 100% true. I was very glad to see him. I'm glad that he came to me for the bullet wound, which knowing him took some convincing from Scott, because knowing him he would just leave it untreated. Needless to say, I still cared about him.

"I never said I was pissed off at you." he grumbles out.

"Seems like you are."

"I am most definitely pissed, but not at you. I don't like being mad at you." he admits. For whatever reason, that last part made my stomach sink a little.

"What are you mad at then?" I ask after a moment of silence.

"A lot of things. I'm always mad." he says in an oddly hard, yet vulnerable tone.

"You know, I've taken up painting and knife throwing for the anger?" I say. He chuckles to himself.

"Painting? What do you paint, people being burned at the stake?" he teases.

"Mhm sure I do. If that thought tickles you, then yes." I say. We both let out a small chuckle and then it goes quiet again. This time, the silence doesn't feel as cutthroat and tense. We pull up to the house and I park in the front. I turn my head to him and he doesn't immediately get out of the car. "J, thank you. Just for everything." I say. He doesn't really smile, just the corners of his mouth gently turn upwards.

"A favor for a friend, right?" he asks me. I nod my head slightly. He then leans over and whispers into my ear.

"So I'll be expecting my favor returned one day. Maybe sometime soon." he whispers. His breath makes the hair on my neck stand up and gives me goosebumps. He then gives a small chuckle to himself and kisses me on the cheek before pulling back and reaching for the door handle. No, you're not winning this game J. Before he gets the chance to open the door, I grab the collar of his shirt, causing him to turn his face towards me and pull him to my face and kiss him on the lips. Surprisingly, he wastes no time kissing me back. His bottom lip gently massages mine, causing my mouth to open ever so slightly granting his tongue entry. The kiss is somewhat familiar to ones we've had before; before, they were all forbidden and lustful but this one was very forbidden and tense. After about 15 seconds, he pulls away and reaches for his car door. He just smiles at me, not saying a word, as he leaves.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, I went home and sat in my bed with my knees to my chest, my arms wrapped around my legs, thinking. Why does he still have this effect? Why did I have the instinct to compare every single little male interaction to him?? Why did seeing him excite me more than seeing Blue ever has? I mean, I didn't really consider Blue my 'boyfriend' but we were definitely exclusive to some degree. Oh yeah, I'm saying this 30 minutes after making out with someone else. Classy.

I decided I couldn't sleep right away, so I finally cleaned my room. I went and picked all the dirty clothes off the floor and put them in the laundry and made my bed and then moved on to the bathroom.

It didn't take long for me to clean my room but when I was finished, I sat back down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I decided to pick up my phone and text him.

I set my phone down on the bed next to me and resume my thoughts before I feel it buzz seconds later. Of course he's still up. He barely sleeps.

Eye roll.

I decide I should at least try to go to sleep so I slide under my covers and close my eyes. I hear my phone buzz so I check it one last time.

I just chuckle as I plug my phone in and set it on the stand next to me.

Doll.

J, that pet name has gotten you in so much trouble yet you never stop. Stubborn jackass.