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“Well, don’t do me any more fucking favors!” I snarled, slapping his hand away as he reached for my shoulder. “I never asked for you to be here, Brent. I can take care of myself.”
He held his hands up in surrender, his eyes skittering left and right. “Shh, Jasper, people are staring.”
“Why should I care if people are staring? Like their opinions should dictate how I act? What decisions I make? Like my entire life should change, all because someone is worried about being liked or being popular?” Brent and I both knew I wasn’t talking about today. I was a decade late on dealing with these emotions. Tears stung behind my eyes, and I blinked in a pointless effort to dispel them. It had been a long, hard ten years; I was allowed to cry every now and then.
I grappled with my control. “Can you just leave? Please?” I gritted out through clenched teeth.
For a second, I thought he was going to argue with me, but he finally nodded, his shoulders sagging. “Okay, I’ll go. Call me later.”
“Uh-huh.” There was no way I was going to call him. He’d crossed a line tonight by coming here. I had specifically told him no. I didn’t want his help, and I didn’t want to be anything more than friends. If he wouldn’t listen about this, how far would he go to get what he wanted?
“See you at work on Monday?” He waited for me to answer, but when I didn’t, he nodded in defeat and headed out.
I was suddenly alone in a crowded room. The music was blaring, but I barely heard it. Instead, I heard Eric saying, “Tell me you felt it too.” Because I thought I had, but when faced with a broken heart, it was too easy to believe the worst.
I’d screwed up. Just because I was sad or angry or offended, none of that excused what I’d done by keeping Eric’s son from him. Depriving Cameron of his father.
Fuck. I had to tell Eric the truth.
4
Eric
Theeveningonlywentdown from there, and considering how it was going so far, that was really saying something.
I jostled my way through the crowd like a pinball, and my friends were all waiting, expressions on their faces ranging from disbelief to pity. They had witnessed my epic failure, and nobody was as surprised as I was. I supposed I hadn’t really expected him to fall into my arms, but… was it really too much to ask for a little swoon?
My worst nightmares had come true. The one that got away was officially out of reach. The end.
I didn’t give anyone a chance to give me some lame platitude about how it was no big deal to get shot down, it happened all the time—and while that might’ve been true, this was the only time it had mattered. “Let’s get something real to drink,” I said, heading for the lounge. I didn’t need to look back to know my friends were following.
I lost all track of time after the third drink. By the eighth, I’d forgotten my friends’ names. Unfortunately, Jasper was still there, lodged firmly in my brain. There were overlapping images of him now, like cerebral double vision. On the one hand, I could perfectly recall how he’d looked sprawled on his bed, trying his damnedest to keep our studying on track, all the while blushing, the scent of his slick a distraction like no other. But then I blinked and saw him as he was now, older, wiser, somehow even more handsome, but instead of blushing bashfully, he’d looked… cornered. I scared him.
My stomach clenched and lurched at the thought, and the acidic burn of bile crept up my throat. I swallowed hard to keep the vomit down. “I gotta… go to bed,” I mumbled to whoever was left of my friends, but I could barely keep my eyes open. Someone patted me on the back.
The smart thing would’ve been to go up to my rented room and crash hard, but I couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping in that bed by myself. I just wanted to go home and sleep for a week. Except I had practice tomorrow afternoon. Uuuuugh. Coach was going to kick my ass from here to LA and back again for showing up hungover.
Blinking in a pointless attempt to clear my head, I left the lounge and stepped up to the check-in desk, digging through my pocket for the room key. “Uh, room 908. I won’t be needing it after all,” I said, slapping they key down and sliding it across the counter to the night clerk. “And my car…”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Van Leer, we can have it dropped off at your home for you tomorrow,” he said. “Let me call you a cab.”
“Great, thanks…” I squinted at his nametag, “Roland. You’re a good man. No, agreatman! Here, you deserve a tip.” I pulled out my wallet and shoved some cash at him, I had no clue how much.
He tried to refuse the money, but I insisted. “Thank you, sir. I assure you, it’s no trouble.” He was smiling at me in that overly polite way I recognized when someone was trying to placate a drunk.
I didn’t want to be that guy. Someone who partied too hard, got sloppy, then made a scene. A few of the players on my new team had made the news last month when they got out of hand and started a brawl at a strip club. But that wasn’t me. I refused to embarrass myself like that. Which was why I never drank this much. For a guy my size, I couldn’t hold my liquor worth a damn.
“Sorry,” I slurred, rubbing at my eyes, my vision blurry. “I’ll just wait outside.”
When I reached for the door handle, it seemed to slide out of reach, and I stretched for it. By the time I realized someone was opening the door for me, my balance was off, and I tilted forward.
“Whoa! Careful there, sir. I’ve got you.” A man caught my arm, and I looked up into the face of the doorman who’d gripped my arm. He pulled me upright.
“Thanks,” I said—or I thought I said, anyway. My lips felt a bit tingly. Even though I’d quit drinking for the night, the alcohol was still creeping through my system, dragging me further down into a sloshy abyss. I really needed to get home.
“Eric?” a voice called, and I tried to focus on where it was coming from. Was I hallucinating? Had I passed out and this was all a dream? Because it sounded a lot like Jasper. “You’re drunk.”
“I am,” I agreed, nodding, which made my head swim, and I grimaced, bracing myself against the window behind me.
