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“Sure I can.”
“Then?”
“I can’t… come.”
This time silence settles over us like one of Godzilla’s claws.
I swallow hard. “You’re joking.”
“Fuck you, Jet. I’m fucking serious here.”
“You can’t come?” He nods, but I still can’t believe it. “Is this a joke? Is it April Fools’?”
“Jet, it’s July.” He’s staring down at his hands in his lap, after dropping this mega-bomb on me, before I’ve even finished my coffee or had any breakfast, and he expects me to… what?
Make him come?
Oh. My. Fuck.
No, Jet, no. Do not go getting any dirty ideas about making Joel come. This isn’t about what you want. This is about what he wants, and he clearly wants a girl.
That girl, and he wants to come with her. In her.
And damn if this thought doesn’t excite me, either. If only I could watch…
Focus, dammit. “Okay, J, let’s think. Is it because of what happened last year? The scandal? Did that put you off sex?”
He shakes his head. “The problem began before that. It’s the reason I was in the whole mess in the first place, the reason I was in that photo with Ellen.”
“What!” I’m incredulous now. “Ellen fucking knew about this? You asked her for help with it?”
Asked her and not me?
“I didn’t know someone would take a picture! Fuck.” He closes his eyes, and the flush in his cheeks is spreading to his ear tips. “I’d never have gotten Ellen into such a mess.”
I’ve wanted to ask him since then why the hell Ellen ignored his atrocious flirting attempts for years only to give in on that unfortunate occasion.
Ah fuck it. No time like the present. “Why Ellen?”
“Huh?” He blinks at me. “Oh. It just happened.”
“Bullshit. You never even went out with her.”
“So what?”
“How about the truth?”
“It’s none of your business.”
I see red. “None of my business?” In one movement, I have him pinned underneath me on the couch, straddling his legs, my arm against his throat. “You are my business, mate. We’re friends. Hell, I tell you stuff about myself nobody else knows.”
“Not everything,” he shoots back, his blue eyes flashing with anger, and I deflate a little.
He’s right about that, dammit.
I lift my arm off his throat and he swallows convulsively. I watch his Adam’s apple bob, the scruff on his neck ripple in tiny waves.
“I only asked to watch her and her girlfriend,” he whispers, and that jerks me back to reality. “Thought it could help me. And hey… you can never tell anyone what I just said, okay? Swear to me, Jet. You have to fucking swear.”
