CJ huffed out a quiet laugh despite himself.
The sound faded quickly and his eyes drifted back to the curb just as Mason and Luis stepped away from the group. Luis said something low that CJ couldn’t quite catch, his voice lost to a passing car. As he turned to leave, Luis’s fingers caught Mason’s wrist for a brief second before letting go. It was a casual gesture, but Mason’s hand lingered in the air afterward like he didn’t quite know where to put it. Luis headed toward the corner, already pulling out his phone. Mason stayed where he was for a second longer before turning in the opposite direction.
No one else seemed to notice.
A car pulled up, headlights washing over what was left of their group, and Rizzo clapped him once on the back before heading toward it. “Later, Hartman.”
CJ nodded and pulled out his phone to order his own ride. “Get home safe, man.”
Rizzo grinned, sharp and predatory. “Oh, I’m not going home.”
CJ snorted. “Of course you’re not.”
Rizzo’s laughter disappeared as he closed the car door and the street grew quiet again. CJ waited for his ride, the lingering noise of the night fading around him, and for the first time in a long while, the quiet didn’t feel heavy.
His ride pulled up, and he pushed away from the wall to walk toward the car. And if he favored his ankle slightly, he would just add it to the list of things no one else needed to know about.
14
EVAN
Evan couldn’t rememberhow he’d ended up on the floor. He’d started off standing, that much he knew. But he didn’t remember sliding all the way down the wall across from CJ’s door, arms crossed, telling himself he would leave if CJ wasn’t home in the next five minutes.
Five minutes had come and gone a long time ago. Hell, he wasn’t convinced it was the same day anymore.
Now, he was sitting on the carpet with his back braced against the wall, knees pulled up so he could rest his forearms across them. The back of his hoodie was bunched awkwardly at his spine, fabric twisted from the way he’d let himself fall instead of lowering himself carefully.
He knew he was a mess. He could feel his curls flattened on one side where he’d leaned his head against the wall earlier, and the other side stuck up from how many times he’d run his hand through it. His racing pulse was a constant reminder that he had no business waiting for CJ.
At the end of the hall, the elevator chimed and Evan felt his stomach drop. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead until CJ turned the corner, then he rolled his head toward him in slowmotion. He had a front-row seat to the split second of shock on CJ’s face before he fixed it into something more controlled. Evan saw it anyway.
“There you are.” Evan’s voice betrayed him, coming out thick and hoarse.
“Evan,” CJ said carefully, keys clenched so tightly in his hand that Evan could see the metal biting into his palm. “What are you doing here?”
Evan’s mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. “There it is,” he murmured. “No ‘hey.’ No ‘are you okay?’ Just straight to logistics.”
CJ closed his eyes and exhaled heavily before he stepped closer. “You’re drunk.”
Evan lifted his hands and gave CJ a slow, exaggerated clap, the sound echoing down the empty hallway. CJ turned automatically to look down the hallway, likely checking to make sure no one was in their doorway or near the elevators. The action was so familiar even after so many years that Evan felt something twist in his chest.
“Good job,” Evan said. “Gold star.”
“Why?” CJ asked.
Evan shrugged, shoulders sloppy and loose. “Because sobriety is overrated.”
CJ pinched the bridge of his nose, and Evan was almost positive he muttered a prayer for patience before he stepped closer.
CJ crouched until they were eye to eye. “How much have you had?”
Evan tilted his head back to rest against the wall. “Enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“Enough to stop pretending I don’t care.” The sentence slid off his tongue before he could stop it, and the second the words were out there, Evan felt the heat crawl up his neck.
He squeezed his eyes shut like that might rewind the last five seconds. “Forget it,” he muttered.
