Page 15

Jonah

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 29TH

There was a bottle of champagne and a six pack of beer on the nightstand when Jonah walked into the room. He looked at it, then to Liam, who smiled brightly back at him.

“We’re celebrating,” Liam announced. “Thanks to you, I’ll never have to take another math class for as long as I live.”

A smile split Jonah’s face, entirely without effort. “I knew you had it in you.”

Liam bent down to retrieve two glasses from the lower shelf of the nightstand, handing one to Jonah. He took it hesitantly and Liam must have sensed his apprehension, because he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“What?” Jonah said. “Nothing.”

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to,” he assured him, looking suddenly hesitant about the celebration. “There’s no pressure or anything. I just thought... I don’t know. It might be fun. ”

Jonah swiftly reminded himself that Liam was not the other men who pushed bottles into his hand, and that losing a little bit of control tonight didn’t have to be a bad thing. He took one look at Liam, who was watching him apprehensively, twisting the neck of the deep green champagne bottle in his hands, and knew he would be safe.

“No pressure necessary,” Jonah said.

The cork gave way with a loud pop, rocketing across the room to land somewhere in the fold of curtains.

“We’ve earned this,” Liam declared.

“You earned this,” Jonah corrected, but Liam was having none of it.

“No,” he said firmly. “I may have been the one physically taking the test, but you deserve at least seventy percent of that C+.”

“I think seventy percent of a C+ might be a failing grade.”

“Shhh, the point of this is that we’re done with math now.”

The champagne foamed to the top of Jonah’s glass as Liam poured, and Jonah took the opportunity to observe the candid glimpse of Liam’s happiness. The smile on his lips was genuine and soft, his eyes light, and Jonah had a real moment of gratitude that he was here with him. That whatever else the week held for him, he got to be here now, in this room.

And for a moment, looking at Liam’s face, he could almost let himself believe that Liam was grateful, too .

The warmth had settled over them like a sunset, starting in their chests and bellies and spreading outward into their limbs, their toes, their noses and fingers. Two lazy heaps sinking into the mattress. They were side by side, close enough to touch, but just far enough away that they didn’t.

Jonah lay with both arms strung up at his sides, bent at the elbow, open hands parallel with his head against the mattress. In the still quiet, Jonah could feel the slow, even movement of Liam’s breathing from beside him. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the comforting rhythm.

“I have a confession to make.” It was Liam’s voice that broke the silence minutes later. Jonah opened his eyes, his head lolling lazily toward him, waiting.

“I hate coffee.”

A laugh bubbled out of Jonah. “What?”

He felt light and dizzy in the best way as he rolled onto his side, propping himself up onto his elbow.

“Despise it,” Liam returned the laugh, rolling up to mirror his position. “I don’t understand how you drink it black.”

Jonah pressed a fist to his mouth. “But you drink it every week! I’ve seen you. I—Why would you...?”

Liam shrugged, shifting his gaze to the stretch of duvet between them. Jonah watched as he traced a line of stitching with his index finger. A delightful pinkness crept into his cheeks from more than the alcohol consumption. “I didn’t want you to drink alone. ”

If Jonah’s heart thudded a bit harder in his chest then, it was probably just a side effect of the alcohol. “Is that why you put like, seven sugars in it?”

Liam made an outraged sound. “ ‘Seven’ is a dramatic rewriting of history.”

“Oh, am I the dramatic one now?”

“Are you implying that I’m dramatic?”

“You,” Jonah replied around a hiccup, “are drunk.”

They were quiet for a beat, and then Liam’s answering hiccup sent them tumbling into a helpless fit of laughter.

“ You’re drunk,” Liam slurred.

“I’m drunk,” Jonah agreed in a whisper.

Liam snorted—a crass, uncensored sound that he definitely wouldn’t have made sober—and swatted a haphazard hand in Jonah’s direction. It landed with a thump on the bed, incidentally close enough to Jonah’s that their pinky fingers overlapped. Warm skin twitched against cold at the contact, and when Liam turned his hand just slightly, his finger hooked around Jonah’s instead of pulling away. Maybe it was an accident, or maybe he was too drunk to notice, but neither one of them made a move to separate.

Jonah was just starting to drift again when Liam spoke through a yawn. “Your turn,” he said.

“For what?” Jonah yawned in return.

“I gave you a confession, now you have to give me one.”

Jonah chuckled low in his throat, his eyebrows turning down. “I don’t remember agreeing to those terms.”

“Fair is fair,” he declared .

“What do you want me to say?” Jonah asked.

“Anything. Whatever comes to mind. It doesn’t have to be as embarrassing as mine.”

Jonah didn’t bother to mention he hadn’t found Liam’s to be embarrassing in the slightest. Instead, he let his mind wander, trying to find what he wanted to say. There were plenty of secrets he kept hidden, and there were some truths he had decided early on to keep from Liam. Unfortunately for him, the alcohol was one hell of a force for breaking down all inhibitions, and he felt his mouth forming the words before he could stop them.

“The night we met in that bathroom, I was at the bar to meet someone,” he said. “A client, I mean.”

He regretted it the second it left his mouth, because the air in the room seemed to freeze over at his words, Liam visibly stiffening next to him. In his periphery, Jonah saw him turn his head in his direction.

“Is that why you were crying?” he whispered. “Were they...?”

Jonah squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t—I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to drag down the mood.”

“Jonah, if you want to talk about it...”

“I don’t,” Jonah said quickly. “Please, forget I said that.”

Liam pulled in a deep breath, but eventually conceded with a nod. They fell back into a heavy silence, thicker this time than the comfortable, light one they had before, and Jonah hated himself for ruining the moment. It had been so nice while it lasted.

“Can I choose a different confession?” Jonah dared to ask, his voice pinched tight. He was glad Liam was no longer looking at him.

“‘Course. Go for it.”

Jonah swallowed, pressing down the sudden swell of nervousness in his chest, because this needed to be said.

“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He didn’t dare turn his head to see Liam’s reaction. They both kept their eyes on the ceiling, even as Liam’s pinky unlatched from his, just long enough to slide his palm fully over Jonah’s, lacing all their fingers together. He gave a squeeze, and Jonah gave it right back.

“Yeah,” Liam whispered. “You’re mine, too.”