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“Where are you going?” Jax asked him when hestood up.
“Little boy’s room.”
He waggled his fingers ridiculously and walked unsteadily toward the men’s room. He barely made it to the urinal before he was emptying his overfull bladder, doing his best not to splash himself. Despite his current state, he was sober enough not to want to smell like piss when he got into Jax’s beautiful muscle car. His head spun a little as he washed his hands.’S what you get for overindulging. Suck it up!
Back at the bar, Jax was having them box up the rest of the chicken and fries and paying the tab. Noah had wanted to contribute, but it was too late for that now. While Jax took his own men’s room break, Lenny handed Noah the bag with the food and he headed toward the door, concentrating so he wouldn’t stumble. He knew when Jax caught up with him, ushering him out of the now very crowded pub with a gentle hand athis back.
“You okay?”
Guess he hadn’t done enough to disguise how unsteady he was after all. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied anyway. If he didn’t admit to it, he could continue to pretend he was just dead on his feet after a long day, right? He put the food on the console between the seats and strapped himself in. He didn’t know when he dozed off, only that Jax was shaking him awake.
“Come on, let’s get you inside.”
Noah struggled to release himself from the seatbelt and gratefully accepted the hand that Jax lent him to get to his front door. After a bit of fumbling—was he drunker than he realized?—he managed to get it open, and this time couldn’t help the stumble inside. Klinger came running out to greet him, nearly toppling him off his feet, and only Jax’s swift save stopped him from face planting onthe floor.
“Does he need to go out?”Jax asked.
“Yeah. I’ll get to it in a second. Thanks for the ride home.”
Jax walked past him. “Kitchen this way?” he asked, heading in the rightdirection.
Noah nodded, too fuzzy to note that Jax couldn’t see the gesture. When he walked back out, he had Klinger’s leash.
“I’ll take him out. You go get ready for bed.” He picked up the keys that Noah had dropped on the table in the hallway and whistled for Klinger who trotted over obediently, tail wagging at the thought of a last walk before bed.
“You don’thave to…”
Jax interrupted his protest. “I know. Go on, you’re in no shape to walk the dog. I’ll be back soon.”
He would just change into his pj’s and wait for them to come back before he went to bed. He undressed, dropping his clothes where they fell—he would pick up after himself in the morning—and went in to brush his teeth, staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His eyes were a little bit bloodshot, a sure sign that he’d had too much to drink. His first date in eons and he’d messed up. He just couldn’t win for losing,could he?
Out of the bathroom, he sank onto the side of his bed, trying to wrap his brain around what he was supposed to be doing next. His eyelids drifted shut against the glare of the lamplight. He should get up and shut the lights off…
The next time he opened his eyes, Klinger was whining next to his bed, and the digital clock on the radio said it was almost eight in the morning. Shit! He’d overslept. He caught sight of the bottle of water, two painkillers on top of an index card on the bedside table. Doing as the note on the card instructed, he swallowed the pills quickly before the hangover headache took hold. Then he swung his legs off the bed and stood up gingerly, recalling how he’d had to think hard about not falling over to stay upright the night before … on his drink datewith Jax.
Damn! He was such a lightweight that four beers had knocked him off kilter. And he’d managed to embarrass himself in front of Jax. He hadn’t heard him return with Klinger, and he had no recollection of making it all the way into bed, which meant that Jax had also put him to bed and tucked him in. He shook his head, making his way to the bathroom to relieve himself before slipping on his sweatpants and a t-shirt and taking Klinger out for his morning constitutional. The bright sunshine made the dull ache behind his eyelids a little sharper. He needed a new pair of sunglasses ASAP.
“Morning, Noah. Have a good one.”
He responded to at least four such greetings with a “Thanks, you too!” on his way back to the house and prayed he didn’t look wasted. His small town was notorious for minding your business and for keeping tabs on you so they could report back to the elders … in this case, to his dad. He didn’t want his old man to worry about him, nor did he want him to arrive with a head full of questions that Noah wasn’t readyto answer.
Once Klinger was fed and watered, he took a shower, hoping to wash away the sickly feeling that four beers in quick succession and not nearly enough food had bequeathed him. He rolled his eyes as he considered how he had used the drinks as a way to avoid talking or thinking about all the uncomfortable topics that had come up in his conversation with Jax the night before.Avoidance, thy name is Noah. His cellphone vibrated on the counter where he’d left it on his way out the doorearlier.
Two missed calls and a text message … all from Jax. He woke the phone and read the message, which was what had just come in.
[Prof: Everything okay there?]
Noah bit his bottom lip as he composed, deleted, composed, deleted and composed a reply that would be cool, not embarrassed. He didn’t think he could manage friendly right now. Maybe once the wave of shame receded, if Jax texted him again, he couldtry that.
[Noah: Everything is fine. I just came back in withKlinger.]
He looked apologetically at Klinger as though the animal would know he was being used to perpetrate a misdirection.Sorry, buddy. Needs must.And wasn’t that the most pitiful thing he’d ever done, apologizing to his dog? He needed to get a grip.
[Prof: Good. I was about to come over to check up on you.]
No, thank you.He sent back a [Noah: No need], suddenly done with the conversation. He needed time to process his feelings in the light of day, without the influence of alcohol to make things more confusing. Then he set down the phone and started a load of laundry. He needed to clean, as well, because his next private lesson was at one sharp, and the house could stand to be vacuumed and dusted before then. He also needed to be clear-headed, so obsessing over what Jax was doing with his morning was a waste of valuable time.
Once the washing machine was going, he slapped together a quick pb&j sandwich, sucked down a cup of coffee and a small glass of orange juice, and wielded the vacuum. Dust motes floated in the sunbeam across the living room as he dusted and polished. His dad would be proud if he could see him now, house-husbanding like a boss. Would Jax want a man who could keep a tidy house?
