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“Things?” I hurry after him. “What things? I mean, Jethro, wait!”
A loser? Why is he saying that? And why for the love of God can’t I stop obsessing about both of them? Why can’t I stop kissing them?
It’s just lust. I should be stronger than that, surely. I can’t let the fact they’re both smoking hot studs rule me. I can be strong. I can be just friends with them.
But before I can find Jethro to tell him of my decision, I find out he’s left the shop, swapping lust for a flash of worry.
Between wanting them and worrying about them, how am I ever going to find peace?
Chapter Eleven
JOEL
“Girls are like sugar,” I tell Jet as we lounge on our sofa, playing Call of Duty.
“Really. And boys?”
“Who cares about boys? I’m talking about chicks, man.”
Jet throws the control on the sofa and gives me a shit-eating grin. “This one’s for the boys.”
“What the hell?” He killed me. Son of a bitch got me killed in the fucking game. “Dickbag.”
He wags his brows. “This boy just done you in.”
I pass by the bookstore to bring Candy some cake and pick Jethro up for an evening run, only to find out he left early. Twatface probably forgot he agreed to the run tonight.
Shocker.
But Candy seemed worried, asking me if everything’s okay with Jet, and that set my inner worrier off.
Dammit, he has seemed off lately. Tired and wired, lashing out at everything, drinking more than he has in years. I assumed it was the change of jobs, and Jet not liking change, but that’s not all, is it?
Candy said he mentioned having to take care of some things.
What things? Am I missing something? Is it a dark anniversary of some sort? Jet has his rituals when it comes to those, although since we became roommates he appeared to relax a little.
I gave Candy my number, asking her to call me if he comes back.
She has said nothing about me bringing her cake. Or coffee in the morning. Or our last kiss and the fact I told her she should be with Jet.
There’s a heaviness in my chest. I can’t get her face out of my head. But I know I did the right thing.
So why does it feel so wrong?
I call his cell phone, but he doesn’t pick up. I drive to the apartment, only to find it empty. I pace up and down the living room, trying to think where else he might be.
My cell rings and I grab it, but the number flashing is unknown.
I connect the call anyway. “Yeah?”
“Joel. Have you found Jethro?”
It’s
Candy. Thank fuck. Her voice washes over me, warm and soft, and my body is already tightening at the sound, despite being so wound up about Jet.
“No.” I sink into the couch and pretend not to notice my hardening cock in case it goes away. “He’s not at home.”
