Page 7

SIX

JAXON

Every boy’s dream , I thought as I watched Elio run away from me, his feet almost tripping over one another. I followed him a few steps as he hurried into the bar, then stopped and leaned against the front wall. My head rested on the brick exterior, and I licked my lips longingly, hoping there was still some of him left on them.

Why’d you have to go and do this, El? I wondered quietly. I had spent two years fucking everything that showed a sliver of disdain for me. I had spent those years searching for rock bottom with all I had until I found it. I’d found it with my entire body and my entire soul when I smacked its cold, hard surface.

I was getting better.

Wasn’t I?

I had a fresh start, a new chance, and a refreshed focus on the things that mattered the most to me. And he had to storm in and kiss me with his beer breath and clumsy, drunken lips.

Where the hell was he, anyway? Running away to vomit after the hottest kiss of my life wasn’t exactly my idea of a romantic night out, but the fucker was in there for ten minutes. Hiding? Or passed out.

I snuck back into the bar, giving my friends a passing glance. They were having fun without me, talking loudly and getting into each other’s sentences. Fred noticed me and lifted an eyebrow, but I shook my head to tell him it wasn’t important and walked across to the restrooms.

All the stalls were open except for the nearest one. As I neared it, someone walked in, and I hesitated. The guy marched to the urinals, unzipped his pants, and exhaled with relief.

I knocked on the door lightly. “El?”

“Huh?” the voice was groggy and distant.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

No reply came. After a moment, there was a flush from the urinals, and the guy with windblown hair and pants hanging low on his ass walked over to wash his hands. He checked me out twice, once in person and once in the mirror, giving my dick a stir and reminding me of my old glory.

Yeah. That was the kind of thing I was trying to move away from.

“El?” I called again.

The bolt moved, and the door opened a fraction. The other guy gave a little huff, shook his hands dry, and walked out, probably thinking I was about to slip inside the stall. Only then did Elio open the door completely and look around, almost cross-eyed with booze. “I’m fine.” He leaned against the door, but it kept moving until it slammed into the wall separating the stalls.

“You’re not,” I said, grabbing him under his arm.

He pulled his arm free and wrinkled his nose. “Not here, Jax.”

“Christ, you’re an asshole,” I muttered as I grabbed his arm again and dragged him out. Not here implied there was a place where the rules didn’t apply. And I tried as hard as I could to silence my thundering heart.

Elio sauntered after me as I dragged him out of the bar and into the breezy September air. He was a mess, but he was a mess on fairly steady feet. With some little support, he managed to walk all the way from the student center to the dormitories. The complex of buildings was a sprawl. There were lawns and bushes, trees, benches, and tables, all scattered between the buildings. Elio was capable of locating his dormitory, and I helped him up the stairs to his room.

When I turned the knob, nothing happened. “Locked,” I said.

Elio, leaning against the wall, tapped through his pockets. “Fuck,” he grunted, looking around like dazed. “It’s fine,” he said, trying for a lighter tone. “I’ll wait for…Pat…Rick.”

I stared at him, measuring just how drunk he was. He tilted, sliding a little while holding himself to the wall.

If the ground was spinning so hard under his feet, he was in no state to lie here and wait for Pat or Rick to unlock the door and let him in. “You’re coming with me,” I said, exhaling a pent-up breath of air.

“Nah,” Elio said distantly. But he didn’t resist when I grabbed him under his arm and dragged him out.

My place was a block away, on the opposite end of the dormitories, and I most certainly had my key in my pocket. The only thing I didn’t have was a spare bed for the lump I was dragging to my place, and I definitely didn’t have the stomach to share the one I had.

When we entered the room, I flicked the lights on and led Elio to my bed. He dropped down as I let go of him. His head hit the pillow, long, curly locks of hair spilling over it, a peaceful expression taking over his face. He had such an infuriatingly pretty face. Nobody was allowed to be that pretty and call themselves straight.

I’d found hot straight guys and handsome straight guys. But angels-carved-his-face-and-God-wept-beautiful? Not in all the years of searching. But I knew the truth about Elio Castelli. I didn’t have to pretend he was straight any more than I had to pretend I didn’t have a crush on him. Not in here, where all our secrets were out and our souls bared.

I sat on my desk chair, kicked my shoes off, and put my feet on the edge of the bed. My hands folded on my stomach, and I stared at Elio. His breathing was deep and steady, his mind probably sailing on the tide of beer.

I had felt it against my leg. The moment he pressed me hard against the wall, his body leaning against mine, I felt how hard he was. Hard as a desperate virgin about to get lucky. That dick hadn’t leaped so hard any time in the recent past, I would bet.

“You fucking hypocrite,” I murmured, my lips curling into a scowl before I could stop it. The thought of him did that to me, and it was hard not to think of El when he was sleeping in your bed.

“East,” he whispered, a frown wrinkling his brow.

East and west , I thought, remembering the night I’d thrown us a goodbye party. I was a heart-bruised teenager with grand beliefs of romance and fate. I’d thought if I only showed him how much I cared about him, the universe would reward me.

But the universe was a cold, uncaring place. It didn’t reward bravery or entertain stupid ideas by silly, lovesick boys.

“I can’t break free of you,” I said.

Elio didn’t stir. He was the picture next to the dictionary entry for peaceful . The few words about East he had muttered, followed by Easton, were long gone from his mind. He was resting again, undisturbed, and I hated it. After he had gotten my blood to boil in my veins, after he had gotten testosterone soaking itself into every inch of my body, he slept like a baby.

“Of all the people I could have fallen for, El, it just had to be a fucked-up closet case, huh?” I cocked my head, watching for any hint that he registered the words somewhere in the depths of drunken sleep. There were none.

None until my foot jerked, and I stabbed his rib cage with my toe.

Elio grunted, opening his bleary eyes and frowning. “Ts. That light,” he grumbled.

I sighed and walked over to kill the light. Elio was gone by the time I returned to the chair, my heart sinking and hurting.

“We could have made it work, you bastard,” I said, not even trying to keep my voice low anymore. There were things I wanted to say to him that I couldn’t. When we ran into one another sober and awake, all he drew out of me was rage. “Can you imagine? Best friends falling in love. It’s the easiest thing in the world. You liked me already, El. And I really liked you. And I knew you wanted it. Sure, breaking my nose was a little confusing, but I knew you. I knew I wasn’t crazy. Nobody can imagine so much, El. Every time you looked at me without blinking, like really looked at me until my heart tripped and I blushed under the intensity of those brown eyes, I knew .” The urge to poke him again zinged through me, but I resisted. Somehow, I had convinced myself that I had been mistaken about Elio. That I had built up the fantasy until the real Elio was erased. And just as I tricked myself into believing this, I set out to let every bi-curious frat bro give it a go with me. Filth like that didn’t wash away so easily.

As soon as I saw him take in the absurd image of me in a towel stepping out of the shower, I knew I had been right all those years ago. I knew I had been right, and the fury won over all else.

“And then you kissed me,” I said, looking down, my voice small and husky. “You just wiped out the last two years of my life when you did what you were supposed to do that night.”

My eyes stung. Grainy, itchy, sleepy as fuck. I hoped to God I wasn’t about to cry. It was just tiredness that made my vision blurry. And a big yawn confirmed it.

I got up, gritting my teeth and hoping my heart wouldn’t explode. Elio occupied the better part of my bed, but the edge was still empty save for his arm.

It’s my bed , I reminded myself. Why should I sleep in the chair just because he can’t hold his beer? And who got wasted on beer, anyway?

Those thoughts were enough to get me moving. I debated for half a second before deciding there was nothing weird about stripping down to my underwear. Sleeping in jeans and a sweater would have been way weirder.

I lifted Elio’s arm and pushed it away, triggering his body to turn its back on me. I definitely wasn’t disappointed about that. And then, I slipped under a small part of the blanket Elio didn’t trap under his body.

Squeezing my eyes shut, all I could hear was my thundering heart. It banged against the inside of my chest, strong enough to crack a rib. I clutched the corner of the sheet and tried to sleep.

There was no helping the fact that I was aware of Elio’s heat radiating from his body. We hadn’t slept in the same bed in years, and even then, I had been very aware of his proximity, guarding us off with separate blankets. Here, now, Elio was like the ocean, and I was a little pebble thrown by a mischievous boy who wanted to see a splash. I was sinking, losing myself in the depth of his presence.

At some point, the abyss of sleep took me, and it was a blessedly dreamless one.

* * *

The groan came first. It was probably a headache that made his body complain. He stirred once, snapping me out of sleep just as the pressure on my chest suffocated me. One of those annoying moments that seemed to stretch an eternity kicked in, and I thought I was having a panic attack. I hadn’t had one in eons.

Bright light burned my pupils, and hair rose along the back of my neck. The pressure loosened, and I drew a deep breath of air, freaking out again when I realized that it was Elio’s arm, wrapped tightly around my torso.

His body was pressed tightly against mine, front to back. His knees were bent just like mine, slotting together like LEGO. He exhaled, and warm air washed over my neck and bare upper back.

He stirred again, his arm dragging along mine.

Stay , I pleaded internally as Elio turned onto his back, leaving nothing but cold air where his warmth had been.

Every part of me was on alert, aware of the proximity and his hand touching my body. In all the gritty, grimy encounters of my first two years of college, none came close to such a level of intimacy.

Yet it was gone. Elio was on his back, letting out a little sigh, almost like I didn’t exist.

I turned around just enough to poke his ribs with my elbow. “Rise and shine,” I said.

“Ouch,” Elio protested, awake. How long had he been awake? “Got an aspirin?”

I had something like it. Without speaking another word, I sat up and pulled out one drawer after another, focusing on the task and not acknowledging the very obvious reaction my body had to Elio holding me in my sleep.

The things I’d let you do to me in my sleep , I thought, then swallowed the knot in my throat and found a box of little aspirin powder bags. I snatched one out and carried it with a glass to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth before mixing the powder in a glass of water for Elio, then walked back into the room.

Elio lay on his back, frowning and blinking. “What am I…?” He exhaled and shook his head, deciding he didn’t want to know, apparently.

I handed him the glass, and he sat up, wincing at the headache. He drained the dissolving powder and put his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

“Sorry about this,” he said, his voice gruff with a hangover.

I lifted my clothes off the floor and dressed, aware of the way Elio watched me when he lifted his head a little. Every part of me was confused. Every inch of my body was torn between wanting to go to him and wanting to fight with him.

“And thank you,” Elio said.

I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to hear those words from him. It felt like someone opened the door a tiny little bit between me and the room that contained all I could ever dream of. Thank you? If he hated me the way he pretended, he wouldn’t have thanked me. “About last night…”

Elio glanced up at me, his expression pained and closing off. He shook his head.

“No, don’t give me that, El. We need to talk about it,” I said. “I need to talk about it.”

His lips pressed together in a nondescript expression.

“You kissed me, then puked your soul out. Call me foolish, but those are some mixed messages,” I said.

His expression only grew more troubled. “I was drunk.”

A snort burst out of me before I could rein it in. “Seriously? Every time you have a beer or two, you’ll squeeze my ass and leave me hanging, or what?”

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Elio said softly.

“Right. And you expect me to believe that?” I asked.

He rose to his feet, towering over me just enough to show off his height. “What do you want me to say?”

That you want me, really , I thought. That you’ve spent the last two years regretting the way things ended, that you want to make it right, and the only way you can even fathom to begin correcting those boyish, misguided mistakes is by kissing me again. But I only shrugged in reply.

“I was barely standing on my feet,” Elio said.

“I suppose this is gonna be my fault again, huh?” I asked. “Cornered you when you were drunk.”

He let out a strangled moan and shook his head. “That wasn’t…I was stupid and too young.”

I turned away from him partially. “Well, that’s how the story went.”

“People believe anything,” Elio said.

My gaze shot up to his face. “They believe it because it’s so close to the truth. Everyone had a crush on you. Every girl and half the boys. You’re sweet and good-looking, and everyone wants to be friends with you. They could see how a guy could go mad and steal that kiss from you, El. And they hated me because I had the courage to do what they wanted to do.”

Elio’s chest rose and fell heavily. My words were getting through to him. They bored their way into his heart.

“But they didn’t know all that I knew,” I said calmly, getting these things out of my mind once and for all. The secret chest that hosted all the hidden, buried things desperately needed airing. “They didn’t know how your eyes begged for it in Still Water Cove.”

A whimper came from him, held back and throaty. He was so still and stiff that it would take a tornado to move him. Even then, I doubted he would bend. Rather, he was likely to break where he stood.

“Or how big your pupils got when it was bedtime and we undressed,” I said, remembering each time in Still Water Cove when Elio lounged on the deck by the lake, watching me climb out of the water, turn around, and nosedive again. “Or how handsy you are when we dive deep and grapple,” I whispered.

“Stop,” he pleaded.

“That’s the thing, El,” I said. “You dangle a carrot in front of me, but you only ever give me the stick.” I took an abrupt step toward him. “And I’m the fool that falls for it every goddamn time.”

He was beyond denying it, and I was grateful for that. But my words didn’t inspire an avalanche of honesty or a profession of his secreted feelings. On the contrary, Elio’s eyes were narrowing in that irresistible, hostile way.

“You can go on pretending this isn’t exactly how things are, El,” I said in a low, husky voice as we neared one another. “But don’t expect a little treat every time you get drunk.” I hoped I respected myself enough to stand by these words. “If you want someone to get you hard, it can’t always be me.”

Elio’s hand flashed before me and wrapped around my throat, the door slamming against my back as I leaped away from him. Pinned and immobile, I simply bared my teeth and flashed him a hateful look in a desperate attempt to disguise the fact that this, more than anything else he could have done, turned me on in an instant.

My heart raced like a wild rabbit across an open field. Go on , I thought. Slam me against the door one more time, then kiss me silly .

“And if I want it to be you?” Elio asked, confidence replacing the pain in his voice. Something had snapped and released a whole new Elio Castelli into the world.

“You admit it,” I hissed through my teeth.

His teeth clenched, and he stared into my eyes, bringing his face close as if to examine something microscopic on me. “Maybe I just like taking something I can’t have, Jax. And maybe I have a weakness in me. An addiction.” His fingers held me firmly without sinking too deep into my throat. “And maybe you’re right about everything, and I want you. And if that’s the case, Jax, I’ll have you. It’s as simple as that. Only…” His jaw moved as he ground his teeth. “You won’t speak a word to anyone. Not even a hint.”

Elio’s body edged closer, and he pressed his leg shamelessly against my crotch. His eyes widened a fraction as he moved his leg against my raging erection. A corner of his lips lifted.

“There’s a good boy,” he said, making me throb against his leg. I hated how much I loved it. “And if you speak about this to anyone, you’ll see the true difference between us,” he said.

My eyebrows trembled upward, and I strained to focus on his words rather than the storm of emotions ravaging my insides. My lips parted as I inhaled a shallow breath of air.

“Unlike you, I can resist a temptation.”

I snapped my mouth shut. If I could muster the strength to protest this, I would have retained some of the leftover dignity. But it would be a lie. He knew this far better than I had realized, better than I had known it myself. I couldn’t resist a disaster in the shape of my old best friend. He just needed to dangle the option before my eyes, and I was his.

My hands went to his waist, fingertips sinking into his hoodie and the soft flesh beneath it. I swallowed a knot in my throat. “I wish you’d stop resisting,” I whispered.

Pain flashed through his eyes again, and he stepped back, dropping his hand from my neck. My fingers move up immediately to rub the space where he’d gripped me. “I need to go,” he said.

I’d figured out that much already. Moving away from the door, I glanced down. There was no mistaking the bulge in his pants. It was self-indulgent, but I took that as a victory. If nothing else, at least we were on the same page for once. He was a fucked-up closet case, and I was more than happy to be his guilty pleasure.

Self-respect? Who is she?