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Perhaps their insane physical chemistry would fizzle out the more time they spent together. They could have fun getting it out of their system and move on.
Ed settled on his side, snug against Jack’s, hand playing under his shirt, softly tugging at his chest hair. His fingers stilled over the ring threaded through chain.
Jack felt the metal lift as Ed pinched it between his fingers. Ed looked at him, and Jack’s body grew taut, waiting for Ed to ask.
Perhaps he felt Jack stiffen or sensed the ring’s importance because Ed gently set it back against Jack’s chest and withdrew his hand.
“It’s getting late,” Jack murmured, hoping his voice didn’t catch. “Drive me back to my Jeep?”
“Sure thing.” Ed pulled himself off Jack and out of the truck bed.
With his ex, Kieran, ending a date like that would have made the entire ride back tense. Kieran would tap the steering wheel impatiently and tell Jack to just spit it out or get over it. To be fair, Jack had been more volatile back then. He’d been coming off his antidepressants for the first time since his parents died. Out of the blue, something would make Jack think of his mom or dad and emotion slammed into him so bad he’d choke. Panic.
It happened less now.
But tonight showed him how easy another attack might come.
It was strange how easily Ed took his mood change in stride.
“Eat a sandwich,” Ed said, gesturing to their untouched picnic. “I didn’t know what you like, so I have a few options in there. With or without chicken, one with stuffing, one with avocado, one with everything.”
Jack smiled at him. “I want everything.”
Ed laughed. “Then everything you shall have.”
Chapter Eight
Jack twirled the keys on his index finger, humming “Underclass Hero” as he walked toward the door.
The house was its usual active self. The smell of stale beer and pizza assaulted his nose.
In the room behind the main room, the regular Thursday poker—two-dollar limit—had no empty seats at any of the three tables. Good. He sucked at poker, so whenever they needed a player, people tried to convince him to play. At least tonight they’d leave him alone.
“Jack! You’re back!” Billy came running across the room. He leaped to cover the last few feet and would have landed on Jack’s toes if he hadn’t stepped to the left. He reeked of beer, and his lack of coordination confirmed he was drunk. “You’ll never believe it. Seth has a date. Guess who it is? You’ll never figure it out, but guess.”
“Brittany Maddox.” He was going to kill her.
“Yeah.” His smile disappeared. “How’d you know?”
Rolling his eyes, Jack rubbed the top of Billy’s head. “Dude, she’s my friend.”
“Whoa, nice hickey.” Billy moved closer before Jack could cover it with his hand.
“Um… yeah, thanks. Why don’t you shout it louder?”
“Okay.” Spinning, Billy almost fell over the couch. He caught himself on the arm, stood up, and cupped his mouth with his hands. Jack scooped him up before he spoke.
“That was sarcasm, you drunk little twit. Keep it down.” He dropped his friend on the empty couch across from the silent television.
“Why are you hiding it? ’Bout time you got some action.” Billy sat up and tried to punch Jack’s arm. When he missed, Jack had to catch him before he fell over.
“Why don’t you go to bed?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve still got a couple more cans to pound.”
A very drunk Seth staggered into the room, a beer in each hand. When he saw them, he nearly tripped on his feet trying to change directions.
“Yo, Seth! Come see the hickey on Jackson’s neck!”
“Billy!” Jack grabbed his friend by the shirt, ready to carry him to bed, but stopped when Harper popped his head out of the poker room. They stared at each other for a moment, but Seth lurched toward him, breaking Jack’s concentration.
“You got a hickey? Where… whoa, that’s huge.” Seth tried to touch it, bringing the can toward Jack’s neck. Quicker than the drunk freshman could react, Jack grabbed his wrist and pried the beer free.
“You’ve had plenty.” With the open container safely secure, he pushed a wobbly Seth into his surprised roommate’s arms. Billy’s beer splashed over them both, and they both laughed.
In the few seconds it had taken to disarm Seth, Harper had walked over. “How much did you pay that hooker to give you a hickey, Murphy?”
The false bravado didn’t merit an answer, so Jack laughed and made for the stairs. “Douche.”
“Whatever,” Harper called after him. “The dance is weeks away. Good lucking keeping whatever blind fool gnawed on your neck that long. Hey!”
Seth and Billy stood in front of a visibly wet Harper. They smiled at each other and broke for their room. Billy ran behind the sofa, while Seth went around the front.
Harper started left, then changed course and went behind the wide leather seat, far too late to catch his tormentors. The door to their room slammed shut before Harper made it four steps.
