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A slow shrug wasn’t the response I expected. “Nah. I’m good.” When I raise my eyebrow at him, his nose wrinkles slightly. “I just didn’t care for it.”
“Didn’t care for what? Relationships? Sex? Being gay?”
“It’s all fine, I guess. For other people.”
To his credit, he finally gets me to sit up. I study him, fascinated, then drop my eyes to his crotch. “Is your dick a shriveled-up piece of jerky? It sure didn’t feel like it the other day.”
He crosses his legs, glaring. “It works. I just don’t feel like it.”
“This ex…” Forgetting I’m in a suit, I pull my knees up and rest my chin on them, my eyes fixed on his. “And this is important, so think hard—did you fuck him or did he fuck you?”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” He stands up and heads for the door.
I grab for him and miss, toppling off the bench. “Wait! You can’t withhold crucial information from your therapist! How am I supposed to fix you?” Stretched out on my back on the grimy floor, I can’t stop laughing. Alcohol is a trip on an empty stomach with no sleep.
He comes back and pulls the vodka out of my hand. “You couldn’t even hold it together for a few hours, could you?”
“And you couldn’t help but fuck with things that don’t concern you.”
“Sorry I ruined your life goal of OD’ing in a dumpster.”
His phone rings loudly. The guy forgot to silence his cell during a national press broadcast. I start laughing again, even though my stomach hurts like fuck.
As soon as he sees the name on the screen, he practically runs out of the club.
I stop laughing and pull in a shaky breath. I’m on my ass on a dirty floor, not sure where I am, not sure I can stand up. My body aches to dive into cool water, but I don’t remember the way to my hotel.
This used to happen all the time, every Friday night, my team and I going hard until we couldn’t remember our own names. Then I’d wake up alone like this, or in some stranger’s bed, and I’d callhimto come get me, because I didn’t have anyone else to ask in the whole world.
I stayed in my house for six years so this would never happen again.
“Fuck,” I groan, dragging myself to my feet. The room stabilizes enough that I can walk to the men’s restroom. I puke up a trail of vodka and spit, nothing else. Shivering, I dig out my emergency cigarettes and light one, watching myself in the mirror. My nose is running; my hair has escaped its gel. Cig dangling from my fingers, I follow Ethan out the door.
Through the warm, still air I can faintly hear the crowd in front of the convention center, but it’s quiet here. My phone vibrates with a text from Gray:Where are you?
Ethan’s standing in the gutter with his phone to his ear, looking for a cab. When he sees me, he says, “I’ll call you back.”
“Cabs are for old people. Wait, I’ll drive you.” I dig in my pocket, but the valet has my keys.
His lip curls. “One, you’re hammered. Two, I’m never letting you find out where I live.”
“How the hell do you think Gray showed up at your door?” God, that really makes him mad. “Anyway, you can’t leave.” I prop my shoulder against the wall and go to take a drag, but I must have dropped my cigarette somewhere between here and the bathroom. “You need to take me back to the convention center.”
He shakes his head. “I’m done. My mom needs me.”
I’m gonna black out here in the street, alone. No walls, no doors to protect me.I fold my arms behind my head and look up at the slice of dark purple sky between the buildings. “Isn’t babysitting head cases kind of your thing?”
He stiffens, takes a step toward me, eyes burning in the dark. “If being a sack of shit is a mental disorder then yeah, you’re certifiable. You think I feel sorry for you because you’re a fucking degenerate has-been? You’re nothing; I’msickof all this ‘oh, he’s special,’ ‘be careful with him’bullshit.”
I blink. “Who said that?”
“You think everyone doesn’t talk about you behind your back? Even your buddy Gray.”
With a deep sigh, I push off the wall. “Big words for the guy begging to suck off my Dad for a measly 20k and a suit. At least I know how much to charge.”
“Ok, that’s it.” He unbuttons his blazer and starts toeing off his shoes in the middle of the sidewalk. I have to duck to avoid taking a jacket to the face. “Give that to your father,” he yells. I didn’t know such a taciturn guy was capable of yelling. He strips off his shirt and lobs it after the jacket, standing there in his undershirt with his wide shoulders tensed. “And that one’s for Gray.”
I stare as he drops his slacks to reveal cheap, black boxer briefs. Instead of throwing the pants, he walks up to me in sock feet and drapes them around my neck. They’re warm. He leans in until his face is close to mine. “And you can shove those up your ass.”
