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“Is that what you want, Hotshot?” he asks. “Do you want to be friends?”
The way he says it, though…there’s something in his tone that’s equal parts dangerous and inviting.
When I bring myself to look him in the eyes, there’s a dare there.
I could kiss him right now.
The thought come to me, out of nowhere.
I could feel his mouth on mine. The invitation of his tongue. Those familiar moans vibrating between our lips.
I feel myself leaning forward. And so does he.
Then Donovan bends at the waist and vomits underneath the bar.
8
Donovan
The world is off-kilter. My stomach won’t settle. Every time I turn my head, it’s too fast, and my vision vibrates briefly before clearing again.
I am wine-drunk, and utterly fucked up.
I deserve to wake up face down in the gravel of my parking lot.
Instead, I find myself tucked underneath Jason’s arm as he leads me to my bedroom. I’m worse than a fawn learning to walk, zig-zagging across the room, but he’s patient and eventually, we make it inside.
My bedroom is sparse. How I like it. I have a Snake Plant in the corner, a desk with my laptop, a couple bizarre art finds I bought in a moment of weakness at antique stores, including—and I can’t make this shit up—a glass money coin-holder with actual animal hair between its ears. Go figure.
I flop unceremoniously onto my bed. “Thanks,” I murmur. “You can leave me here to die now.”
But he doesn’t. I feel a tug on my legs as he pulls off one shoe, then the other, and sets them both down underneath the bed.
He leaves, and I think that’s the last of him, but then I hear his footsteps return. I keep my eyes closed, because it pauses the spinning, at least.
“You’ve got a trash can here,” I hear Jason say. “And water.”
“Jason fucking King,” I mutter. “Saint of Hannsett Island.”
I’m being an asshole, and I expect him to leave me. But, again, he lingers. I feel my mattress sink and crack my eyes open. He’s sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over, looking at the floor thoughtfully.
“Hey, so…I don’t know if you’ll remember this in the morning,” he says. “But I know I gave you a hard time when we were kids. It was wrong of me. You’re a good guy. You deserve good things. You should never feel like you deserve any less.”
I say nothing. I close my eyes again and pretend to be asleep.
“Okay,” Jason says. “That’s it, I think. Sleep tight.”
He turns out the light and rises. Quietly, he closes the door behind him, trapping me in.
I’m alone again. Only once he’s gone do I finally sit up and slowly start to sip the water he’s left me.
9
Jason
Once I’m sure Donovan is tucked away safe and sound, I let myself sink into my pull-out bed in the living room.
I’m not asleep for long, however, before I’m woken up by the sound of someone shuffling around.
