A thin line [Winterhauch & Michiyo]

I can't handle us now. If I'm lucky, I'll meet ya, flip side of the graveyard cause things didn't work out in this life, but someday.

The very moment Jax made that sarcastic comment, calling her "kitty", a sharp pinch of irritation shot through her. But it was tinged with a weird sense of respect. He was pushing her, challenging her, trying to unleash something inside of her. It wasn't patronizing, though it might have seemed that way. No, this was a challenge, an invitation to break free from the chains of her own self-doubt. His instructions were relentless. Ginny could feel the energy draining out of her with every swing, every movement. The fact that he didn't even seem to break a sweat despite her best attempts only fueled her determination. She took solace in the way Jax looked at her. She had never seen him like this - a mixture of intense focus, subtle admiration, and perhaps, a hint of pride. It was as if in this shared moment of exertion, they were on the same level. And the way he smiled? May be a sign of recognition, of seeing the potential in her. It made the pain, the effort, all worth it. But then, the moment she mentioned Cami, she could sense the change in him. His light-hearted demeanor shifted into something more serious. There was a gravity in his eyes, a deep concern that seemed to weigh on him. And she felt it too - the uncertainty, the unanswered questions swirling in her mind. Jax’s words seemed dismissive at first, but he eventually came around. He wasn't just brushing her off this time. For the first time, Ginny felt like she was not alone in this. She wasn't just the outsider looking in, but someone who was now deeply involved. And that realization was both comforting and terrifying.
His hand on his knee, that brief display of vulnerability, brought her back to the present. For a brief moment, she saw past the strong facade of Jax to a man who had his own battles to fight, his own demons to wrestle with. His question about the officials and the pills made her wonder about the depth of their connection. How deep did this go? What other secrets were they both hiding? But there was no time for that now. The weight of the current situation hung over them both. However she was determined to find answers, with or without his help. Ginny fidgeted with the edge of her towel, forming her words carefully, "You might be right about the pills, but something in my gut tells me that this is bigger than we imagine."
The image of the moody boyfriend, driven by jealousy, didn’t align with the dark allegations. The idea of the boy-next-door transformed into a killer over a hobby? Even to Ginny, such a leap seemed far-fetched. Yet, this slim thread was all she had to grasp onto. Exhaling deeply, she reluctantly admitted, "I haven't heard any word from the officials.” Their silence could have been a blessing or a curse, she couldn't quite tell. Pushing the worries to the side, she continued, "However, there's a ball at my dance studio tonight. Every studio member is expected to attend, making it an ideal chance for us to dig a little deeper." With renewed energy, she sprang to her feet to meet the gaze of the jet black haired man before her. He looked way calmer, innocuous really compared to his usual demeanor. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?” With an angelic smile, her head tilted to the side. The training from earlier flushed her face, a welcomed mask that hid the blush she felt rising. She held his icy blue gaze steadily, projecting an air of assurance, hoping it would make it harder for him to decline her offer. Little did he know, she subtly crossed her fingers behind her back, seeking that little touch of luck.

"Wait a moment, sweetheart. You want me to accompany you to a ball? You gotta be f*cking kidding me. There's no f*ucking way that I'm playing your little boyfriend. You want to play detective, Sherlock? Fine. Go on. But don't expect me to help you with that stupid plan. I listened to you but that doesn't mean I have time for your silly teenage highschool drama. Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea."
Jax realized far too late that he made a gravely mistake.
He had been too soft with her, too approachable for someone who was known for driving everyone else away with a single stare. He had allowed himself to be drawn in by her sweet smile and her boldness. The expression on his face shifted from a neutral calm to a dismissive cold. This tiny litte spark of hope to find an ally in him needed to be crushed on the spot. It was too dangerous. A mocking grin curled at the corner of his mouth that changed his sharp but handsome face into a cruel mask.
Jax remembered the disapointment in her eyes for a few painful hours. He had hurt her but they were already to close.
It was absolutly impossible that he would dress up like some highschool prick and show up at this fancy ball with Ginny on his arm like he was her perfectly trained lap-dog to parade around the room. Like she had tamed him or something like that.
Jaxon Lewis, brutal henchman of an underground boss and respected by many lowlife criminals in shady districts of the darkside of the city would never attend a ball. With dancing.
Never.
And still he was standing in front of her dance studio hours later leaning against his bike and waiting for her. The bike was a custom made modell, a Harley Davidson, painted black with shiny chrome details. Someone had engraved the same design from his tattoos onto the handles. It was a nice detail he loved, something personal and unique. He had paid half a fortune for it. But Miller was generous with his underlings if they were reliable.
Jax was hyper aware of the looks resting on his person. He stood out like a big, black crow among colorfull paradise birds. In fact Jax had managed to find a simple but black dress shirt in his little wardrobe. He didn't remember that he owend such a fine piece of clothing. His long legs were clad in his least destroyed, dark jeans. The jet black hair was tied back in a messy bun, some lonely and rebellious strands falling into his piercing blue eyes. He was als dark and sharp angles. Someone could say, Jaxon Lewis had tried to make an effort. Impatient he rolled the sleeves up to his ellbows to show of the inked art on his forearms. The tattoo peeked out of the open collar of his dress shirt and stretched over the strong line of his neck everytime he moved his head to look over the filled parking lot.
Fair enough, Jax hadn't told Ginny that he changed his mind. In fact he had already changed it the moment the girls had left the box studio. He didn't know if he should be angry or impressed. He told himself again and again that he only came her to keep an eye on the girl like Miller had ordered him to do. He was just doing his f*cking job.
Still waiting he snatched a cigaratte out of the back pocket of his jeans and savored the burning, suffocating feeling in his lungs. Jax sighed.
Honstly, his own mood swings gave him headaches these days.

The loud music was a constant in Ginny's ears. Melodies of songs she had heard a million times dancing to, enjoying the meld of her own body following the rhythm. Yet in that very moment she felt off. The usual discipline of the dance studio had given way to enchantment. Fairy lights twinkled like distant stars above, weaving a soft glow that flickered across the mirrored walls. The hardwood floors, once echoing with the tap of dance shoes, now vibrated with the rhythm of mainstream hits, the bass thumping in sync with the heartbeat of the party. The room pulsed with the vibrant energy of dancers, abandoning their rehearsals for the night's spark. In dresses that glittered and suits that cut sharp lines, they surrendered to the rhythm. Their movements were of sheer joy while a mix of sweat and perfume filled the air. It was the first party she attended since her last one, since… The lights and sounds around her began to warp subtly. She blinked, trying to steady her heartbeat, but the present scene blurred. Her vision was fooled by the haunting memories of blue lips and pale skin. “Cami wake up!” the sound of her own voice, so loud and desperate that she flinched instinctively. It’s all in your head, the blond told herself while trying to stay ahead of the games her demons started to play. Her heart hammered against her chest, each beat a loud drum echoing the terror she felt. A sudden touch against her shoulder jolted her back to reality, bringing her focus to the ballroom again. Cami's dead body was gone, replaced by people in stunning gowns. “I’m safe." a hushed whisper for her own ears. Nodding and nervously biting on her bottom lip she scanned the room. It was dumb to come here by herself in the first place. Every other rejected girl might have stayed at home, watched a movie or cried her eyes out over a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Swallowing hard, trying to anchor herself to the now the petite woman tried to leave the flashback behind though a residue of fear and disorientation remained. Ginny took deep breaths, attempting to steady her trembling hands but air didn't seem to fill her lungs. The dance studio around her felt foreign, as if she’d been there for the first time. She knew she needed a break.

As soon as the fresh nightly breeze kissed her slightly red cheeks, a weight fell off her shoulders. Or was it the sight of a crow amidst a cacophony of parrots? Its ebony feathers did not catch the sun’s kiss as of its companions. Yet, as night fell over the world, it was the crow that claimed the moon’s favor. Under the silver glow of moonlight, it absorbed every ray of light, becoming a silhouette of haunting elegance against the twilight. Ginny watched him from the shadowed entrance of the dance studio, her heart a symphony of hope. The sight of Jax, this enigmatic man who had so bluntly rejected her, now leaning casually against his bike, felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. She observed him, the effort he'd put into his appearance, a sharp contrast to his usual disregard for such vanities. Yet, here he was. His tattoos, visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves, were like chapters of a story she yearned to read, symbols of a life maybe not so different from her own. They drew her in like a narrative written on skin. His presence at the studio, a place where he so clearly didn't belong, spoke volumes without a single word exchanged. Ginny’s own boldness rose to meet the challenge. She wasn't one to shy away.

With a breath that felt like her first in hours, Ginny stepped from the shadowed threshold, the moonlight painting her path. The air played with strands of her hair, lending her an ethereal grace. "Look what the cat dragged in." she ventured, her voice a blend of curiosity and confidence. The smoke from his cigarette curling lazily between them. Without asking, Ginny took the cigarette from his fingers, drawing a slow drag. She exhaled, watching the smoke drift away, then turned her attention to the ink that sprawled like a tapestry along his arm. "You look incredible," she murmured, tracing the edge of a particularly intricate tattoo with the tip of her finger. The texture of healed skin under her touch, a story of art etched into flesh. "I should get one myself, but I never know what to get. Or maybe I’m just waiting for the right moment," she admitted, her gaze meeting his. Ginny felt a thrill, her heart beating a rhythm that seemed to echo the distant music from the studio. “I’m glad you came, though, if you think of rejecting me again, just know that I recently started boxing. I know I might not look the part but I heard I’m quite talented.” Ginny’s smile unfurled slowly, playful in amusement. It was the kind of smile that danced at the corners of her lips. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “Shall we?”