Page 24

Chapter 24

The one where Jeff is totally not jealous.

The day before Lucy flies back to L.A., she throws a party downstairs by the apartment complex pool. And not just a casual little thing—no, it’s a full-on event. Tea lights are scattered everywhere like she’s setting up some kind of Pinterest fever dream. They’re going to be a nightmare to clean up, but Lucy insisted. Said they made the place “look less shitty” or something like that.

I have no idea how the apartment manager agreed to this. All I know is we have to shut it down by ten.

It’s not the biggest space, but it’s nice. A few benches, plenty of seating, a barbecue in the corner that’s already been put to good use. It’s technically a housewarming party for Jamie and me, and a goodbye party for Lucy.

But somehow, it’s also turning into a weird high school reunion.

Jamie kept in touch with everyone . I don’t know how, but he did. And now, half the people we grew up with are here, and it’s kind of blowing my mind.

Small town shit.

Jamie prepped me for this, saying everyone already knew we were moving in together. No big deal. Even my own mom had turned my relationship with Jamie into her latest gossip during her daily phone calls—thanks, Mom—and now I’m officially the neighborhood’s hottest topic.

So yeah. Everyone here knows. I don’t have to come out to anyone. And apparently, everyone’s cool with it.

How the hell did I luck out this much?

It doesn’t make sense. I spent years terrified of this exact moment—of people finding out, of judgment, of whispers behind my back. I convinced myself that if anyone knew, it would be over for me. That I'd be branded and everything would change. But here I am, standing at this party, our party, and… no one cares.

No weird looks. No awkward silences. No one making it a thing.

I scan the crowd, drink in hand, letting my mind wander. Maybe Jamie was right. Maybe people did know back in high school and just… never said anything. Maybe I was the only one making it a big deal.

The thought makes me cringe.

I was so sure I was hiding it. I went out of my way to keep my distance, making excuses, shutting down anything that might’ve looked too obvious when it came to how I really felt about Jamie. I dated girls, forced myself into roles I didn’t fit, shoved down feelings I didn’t want to deal with.

And for what?

To protect a secret that wasn’t even a secret?

I was young and stupid. And apparently, oblivious too.

I take another sip of my drink, the ice knocking against the plastic. God, I’m a fucking moron.

Lucy nudges me, yanking me back to reality. She’s got her feet in the pool, her voice a little slurred, eyes shining with that tipsy kind of sincerity.

“Hey Jeff, can I go get your surfboard?”

I blink at her. “...For what?”

“For the pool, genius,” she says, like I’m the idiot.

I squint, taking a slow sip from my red cup. “...The fucking pool , Lucy?”

She bursts out laughing. “Duh!”

“No.”

“Fine, be that way…” She leans back on her hands, tilting her head toward me. Then, softer, “I’m gonna miss you.”

That one hits harder than I expect.

Lucy’s basically my little sister. The thought of her not being around all the time anymore feels… weird.

She’s special—like Jamie.

No one could replace Lucy. I already know I’ll miss her.

“One day, I won’t even recognize you anymore,” she says, voice thoughtful. “You better visit me.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I will. I promise.”

“I don’t wanna miss out on your life, Jeff.”

I look at her, and something about the way she says it makes my chest ache. I don’t want to miss out on hers either.

“Don’t you still talk to Jamie?” I say, motioning toward him. “I bet he tells you everything anyway.”

Lucy hums, but I barely register her response. My gaze flickers to Jamie, standing across the pool, drink in hand, chatting by the table.

Wait.

Jamie’s talking to someone.

It's Brandon.

My stomach drops. A rush of heat floods my chest, the kind that doesn’t come from alcohol. That’s definitely him. He looks almost the same—same sharp features, same confident stance—except now he’s got a short beard, like he’s trying to reinvent himself or something.

Brandon. Jamie’s ex.

Brandon from high school.

Brandon, who wasn’t gay until the second I left, and he suddenly decided he was.

Brandon, who was Jamie’s first. His first real kiss, his first boyfriend, his first… everything that actually mattered . My fingers tighten around my drink.

And Jamie is standing there, smiling at him.

Prettily.

Like he wants Brandon to be here. Like he’s happy to see him.

A sharp, nauseating wave rolls through me, settling somewhere in my chest.

Why the fuck is Brandon even here? And why does Jamie look like that? Like he’s remembering something good? Like he still likes him?

The cup in my hand feels flimsy, too easy to crush. I can hear Lucy saying something beside me, but it’s just noise—distant, irrelevant. My pulse is a steady drumbeat in my ears, drowning out everything but them.

Brandon shifts closer. Jamie tilts his head slightly, laughing at whatever he just said.

I swear to God —

I snap my gaze away before I do something stupid. Before I march over there and demand to know what the hell they’re talking about that's so fucking funny. Before I say something I can’t take back.

My heart is pounding.

“Anyway, what's that even supposed to mean?” Lucy asks, but her voice barely registers.

The anger swelling in my chest is sharp and familiar. It’s the same feeling that ripped through me before I swung on the guy in Tiffany’s bed—the kind that builds fast, too fast, leaving no room to think before it takes over.

My heart pounds. My throat feels tight.

I know that look in Brandon’s eyes.

And Jamie— my Jamie—is still looking at him with a smile like he hung the goddamn moon in the sky.

“Jeff? Hello?” Lucy waves a hand in front of my face. “What do you mean Jamie tells me everything?”

I exhale slowly, a long, steady breath, forcing my expression to stay even.

I lift my cup to my lips, take a measured sip.

“I mean…” My voice is steady, but I feel the strain. “I know for a fact that Jamie tells you things. You guys still talk, right? He’ll be a second connection for you.”

Another sip.

Lucy narrows her eyes at me, her hazel gaze sharp despite the smudged mascara. Then she smirks.

“I’ve heard a lot from Jamie, actually,” she says, drawing out the words. “He tells me some really interesting things.”

I glance at her warily, my interest rekindled. “Like what?”

Her smirk widens. “Like… I heard you give really, really good head.”

I nearly choke on my drink.

Lucy grins. “The best head he’s ever gotten—”

I sputter, coughing hard, my face on fire. I have never blushed this hard in my life.

Lucy just keeps laughing. “So much for not wanting the D, Jeffrey… You’re such a liar. You love it.”

She’s joking. She’s hammered. She’s talking about that first trip out here, when I was still lying to myself. I know all of this. And none of it stops the sheer, full-body panic that floods through me.

The alcohol. The humiliation. The fact that she’s saying this out loud.

It sends me straight into fight-or-flight mode.

I shoot to my feet so fast I almost trip, my plastic pool chair wobbling behind me. My heart slams against my ribs.

Then I’m gone.

I storm across the pool area, barely seeing the people I shove past. Someone does a flip into the pool. Someone’s waving at me. It all blurs together as I zero in on the drink table.

Jamie.

And Brandon.

I don’t even look at Brandon; I don’t acknowledge him at all. I just grab Jamie’s arm, ignoring whatever conversation they were having, and drag him toward the lobby of the apartment complex.

The music outside is still pounding as the glass door swings shut behind us. I shove it closed, sealing us inside, then turn to Jamie and grab him by the shoulders.

“Dude, what the fuck are you doing?”

Jamie knocks my arms away, eyes wide. “Jeff, what the hell is going on?”

“What are you doing with Brandon?”

His shoulders relax too quickly, too easily. He smiles like I just asked the dumbest question in the world. “Nothing... I was just saying hi.” His gaze flicks over my face. “Jeff, are you mad?”

That smirk is unbearable.

“ Why is he here? Did you invite him?”

Jamie keeps watching me while my stomach twists into a thousand knots.

The idea of Jamie flirting with Brandon makes me sick. I can’t even let myself go there. If Jamie ever cheated on me the way Tiffany and Emily did—fuck, I don’t know what I’d do. I think my heart would just stop beating.

I’d straight-up die.

Jamie tilts his head, eyes lighting up like he’s cracked some kind of code. His smirk sharpens, and somehow, that makes it worse.

“Oh my God, Jeff… Are you jealous?”

My face burns.

“Why did you invite him?!” I snap.

Jamie shrugs. “I dunno. I invited everyone.” He says it so casually, like it’s nothing, like it’s not a big deal.

He’s still smirking at me, like I’m the one who should feel embarrassed. And honestly, my rage is starting to lose the battle to said embarrassment. My arms uncross before I even realize it.

“Jamie…” I stare into his eyes, trying to calm my pulse. The anger is still there, tightening my chest, but at least now I can think .

“…I want him to leave. Like, right now. He needs to leave.”

Jamie laughs quietly, then reaches out and tugs the front of my shirt. “You’re really hot when you’re jealous, you know.” He bites his lower lip.

I freeze. The compliment totally throws me off.

Jamie’s grin widens. “What if I don’t ask him to leave?” he teases. “Because that’s rude? And all of that happened a long time ago?”

I scowl. “Then I’m going to go do it.” I turn and grip the glass door handle.

“Jeff—” Jamie calls after me, catching my arm before I can yank the door open.

I look back, bracing myself, expecting a reprimand or at least some kind of protest. Instead, he surprises me.

He slips his arms around my shoulders and pulls me in, his voice low against my ear.

“You shouldn’t be mad,” Jamie murmurs. “There’s nothing between us, Jeff. Nothing. You shouldn’t be mad.”

But I am.

Even as I breathe him in and feel my body begin to relax in his arms, the anger won’t leave. I can’t shake it.

“I am mad.” My arms slip around his waist before I can stop myself. I hold him there for a moment, taking in his warmth and the way he fits against me. Then I mumble, “I’m also mad that you tell Lucy about our… private time together.”

Jamie lets out a deep laugh and pulls back just enough to look at me.

“Our private time together?” He grins.

“Dude…” I glare. “Why are you telling Lucy details about me going down on you?! You don’t think she’s gonna throw that in my face later? She ripped me a new one!”

Jamie laughs again, unbothered. “I only say that stuff in passing. She really doesn’t want to hear it anyway. She hates it.”

“She loves it,” I snap. “She lives for it. She weaponizes it every chance she gets. You can’t tell her that.”

“I’m sorry.” Jamie’s voice softens, like he’s actually trying to sound remorseful. “It just slips out around her because I know she doesn’t care. And sometimes it grosses her out—” He chuckles. “Which is kind of hilarious.”

I glare a little harder, and Jamie’s smirk fades.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop,” he says.

“Thanks.”

Jamie’s still smiling, but I gesture toward the pool. “Now go kick that dickbag Brandon out. All the way the fuck out.”

I’m about to point again, but the adrenaline’s wearing off, and I realize I’m way more tipsy than I thought. I lean too far, bracing myself against the wall for balance.

Jamie laughs, eyes glinting with amusement. “No, Jeff. I’m not doing that.”

He wraps an arm around my waist to keep me upright, like I’m an overgrown toddler. “C’mon, let’s head back upstairs,” he says, calm and steady.

“What? This is our party,” I protest, even though my legs feel wobbly. “And that fucker is still here. He needs to—”

“Let’s go,” Jamie cuts in, hooking his arm through mine and steering me toward the stairs before I can argue.

I grumble under my breath, but I let him lead me, because when Jamie’s determined, there’s no stopping him.

By the time we get to our apartment, Jamie locks the door behind us and gently pushes me onto the couch.

“…What are you doing?” I ask, trying to sound annoyed but failing.

Jamie just flashes me a slow grin. Without a word, he yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the kitchen counter, all casual-like. His cheeks are still flushed from laughing earlier, and now I’m thinking he’s been turned on this whole time. Probably ever since he told me I looked hot when I was jealous.

Oh, he’s definitely into this.

He saunters back toward the couch, still wearing that damn smirk. “I’m going to show you how I’m feeling…”

Before I can react, he climbs onto my lap, pinning me against the cushions.

I can’t help but laugh. “Oh yeah?”

Then, to my absolute shock, he nearly rips my pants open.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, half-laughing. “That could’ve ended badly...”

He ignores me and undoes the button, then leans down and kisses me hard.

“Convince me you’re better,” Jamie says, eyes dancing with mischief.

I blink. “What?”

“Convince me you’re better than Brandon.”

My face goes bright red. I let out a flustered laugh, but then I notice Jamie’s blushing too, still grinning, and something about that settles my nerves.

“Okay… but you asked for it.”

Suddenly, Jamie hops off me and yanks me up before I even realize what’s happening.

“Whoa, wait—”

Too late.

He hauls me by the arm toward the bedroom and shoves me onto the bed. We both crack up.

“Hurry up,” Jamie demands, already kicking off his pants.

Not everyone lives in sweatpants, and—wait. Was he actually wearing boots without socks again? Does he even own socks?

“I’m going as fast as I can, dammit,” I say with a smirk.

Jamie just laughs and jumps onto the bed before I can finish taking off my socks. I brace myself on my elbows and grab him by the waist, tugging him closer with both hands.

“This will never not be fun with you…” I say, still grinning.

Jamie’s breath hitches for a second. Then I lace my fingers through his hair and kiss him hard as we fall back onto the mattress. His hands skim over my shoulders, warm and familiar, and—fuck—this feeling.

That wild, beautiful, overwhelming feeling.

Loving Jamie always sweeps me off my goddamn feet when it hits me like this.

“I’m so mad I didn’t get to do this with you earlier,” I whisper, my voice rough in my own ears. “All those times… I hate thinking about everything I missed, back when I was running from all this shit, Jamie.”

He kisses me again, and again, letting out a low hum before finally pulling back.

“You’re doing a pretty good job convincing me,” he murmurs, “but I’m not totally convinced yet…” His smirk is downright dangerous.

I grin, my heart thudding.

Because I’m not just telling Jamie why I wanted to punch Brandon in his stupid, perfect jaw. I’m trying to tell him something more.

Something bigger.

So I roll off him and head for the dresser.

Jamie watches curiously as I rummage through a drawer, pulling out a few things—and finally, the little red envelope he always keeps tucked away.

I toss it onto his chest.

Jamie places a hand over it immediately. He knows what it is before he even looks.

He props himself up on one elbow, eyes misty.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“…What?” Jamie sits up, still naked on the bed, the sheets a mess beneath him. His face is flushed—cheeks glowing as red as the envelope in his hands. It’s rare and downright adorable.

“Does that convince you?” I ask, my heart still racing.

God, he’s gorgeous. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I get to live with the love of my life.

Jamie looks like he might cry, and for a second, I wonder if I messed up—if sharing exactly what I was thinking was too much, too intense for his lighthearted joke.

“Jamie, I can’t believe… where we are now,” I say, glancing around the room. There are still boxes of clothes stacked in the corner. “Isn’t it weird?”

Jamie smiles, even as his eyes stay glassy with unshed tears. He rubs his fingers over the envelope. “It’s not weird.”

“Yeah, it is, bro.” I grin. “Just like that stupid diary page you’re holding.”

Jamie huffs a laugh, his smile widening. “Whatever. It’s not weird…” His voice softens. “I mean, besides your obsession with Sprite, which is pretty weird… It’s beautiful. I love you so much.”

“Jamie… You drank almost all the Sprite.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You had way more than half of it. I remember it vividly.”

I walk back over to the bed, plucking the envelope from his hands and putting it back in the dresser. Then, before he can react, I give him a slow, evil grin.

Jamie’s eyes widen. “Jeff—”

Too late. I pounce, zeroing in on the spot that makes him curl up instantly. He lets out a strangled yelp and nearly rolls off the bed.

“Jeff!”

“I love you too, bro,” I cackle, emphasizing the “bro” just to get under his skin.

Jamie groans in mock frustration, but he’s laughing now, breathless from my attack.

I let him catch his breath, then lean in for a kiss—once, twice, and a third time just because. My hands cup his jaw, and I rest my forehead against his.

“I love you, Jamie,” I murmur. “So much.”

He smiles at me, then leans in for another kiss—slow and deep, until I’m gasping for air. His lips trail to that sensitive spot behind my ear, and I feel the heat between us surge. I let my hands wander, kissing his lips, his jaw, moving down his neck and across his chest.

Before long, we’re tangled up in each other, fully giving in to the moment. By the time we finally collapse, breathless and sated, Jamie is lying face down on the bed, his skin glistening. He looks so unbelievably hot I can barely handle it.

“Hey, Jeff…” he mumbles into the pillow, his voice lazy and muffled.

I roll onto my side to face him. “…What?”

“…Good job with the convincing,” he says, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

I let out a quiet laugh and pull him into my arms, tucking him against my chest. We lie there in a comfortable lull.

After a while, I murmur, “You going back out there?”

Jamie shifts, smiling sleepily. “I don’t really want to anymore.”

“Yeah… neither do I,” I sigh. “But I’ve probably pissed Lucy off enough during her stay, so I’ll go wrap things up. Can’t make her mad right before she leaves.”

I press a quick kiss to the top of Jamie’s head, then roll away to pull on my clothes.

Jamie watches me knowingly. “Jeff, be nice to Brandon… if you even talk to him.”

I glare as I tug my shirt over my head.

Oh, I’ll talk to him.

Jamie sighs with theatrical exasperation. “Seriously, Jeff, Brandon has nothing on you. You don’t have anything to worry about… Don't be mean.”

Leaning over the bed one last time, I give Jamie’s already-red ass a sharp smack.

He yelps, looking offended, and I grin as I head for the door.

“Wait, Jeff—”

I pause and glance back into the bedroom, taking in one more glimpse of Jamie tangled in the sheets. God, he’s beautiful like this—messy, flushed, glowing. “Yeah?”

“I will never cheat on you. Not ever. Just so you know... it's only you. Always and forever. It always has been.”

My heart clenches. I smile. “I know. I’ll never cheat on you either. It's you always and forever too, baby… I promise.”

Jamie’s cheeks go pink again, and he smiles so softly it makes my stomach do flips. I could leave it at that, let this perfect moment stay unspoiled…

But I’m me.

“I still think Brandon’s a fucking slut for you, though,” I add, smirking.

Jamie groans, burying his face in the pillow.

“He wants you so badly. I can tell, and I hate him for it. Fuck him. Just so you know—just for the record.”

With that, I slip out of the room to find Lucy.

The party is still in full swing, even though we promised the apartment manager we’d shut it down by ten.

How am I supposed to end a party this big?

Lucy’s over on the grass, playing beer pong. Another group is throwing more ribs on the barbecue. A couple of people are grinding by the stereo, and a handful are still in the pool, drinks in hand.

Brandon is… missing.

Good. Maybe he finally left.

I spend the next hour doing the adult version of get the hell out —saying goodbye, thanking people for coming, casually mentioning that the party’s over. Lucy and I pick up trash around the pool area, slowly but surely dispersing the crowd.

By the time we make it back upstairs, I’m beyond exhausted. I push open the door, ready to collapse—

And there’s Brandon, standing in my living room.

He and Jamie are by the couch, standing way too close. Jamie’s arms are crossed, Brandon’s shoved his hands into his pockets. The tension between them is thick, and the whole scene looks… awkward.

When the hell did Brandon sneak up here?

I thought the party was outside, not in our apartment. Had Jamie still been in bed when Brandon arrived? Jamie’s dressed now, but did I even lock the door on my way out?

Shit.

Why is this happening when I can barely keep my drunken mind straight?

“Brandon,” I say, voice cold, “what are you doing in here?”

He pulls his hands out of his pockets as I march over, accidentally kicking a few moving boxes out of my way. He lifts both palms in a defensive gesture.

“Dude,” Brandon blurts, “I just came up to say goodbye… that’s all.”

He shoots a quick glance at Jamie, who’s scowling, looking panicked.

He’s lying. I can see it in his eyes… and I can see it in Jamie’s.

The anger I tried to bury flares back up, hot and familiar. My fists clench at my sides, and I catch Brandon’s gaze flick to my hand as it starts to curl into a fist.

I draw in a shaky breath, forcing myself to stand down.

“Are you kidding, Jeff? Chill out…” Brandon mutters, lifting his hands defensively, still eyeing the fists at my side. Then he digs into his pocket, pulls out his car keys, and dangles them in front of me. “I’m leaving.”

My eyes land on the Range Rover fob, and for just a second, I see the old Brandon—the one who’d grin and take a swing at me for kicks during football practice, that cocky-ass smile plastered on his face.

But that was high school. Neither of us is the same person we were back then.

“Wait… who is this?” Lucy interrupts, weaving unsteadily as she reaches for a glass of water in the kitchen. She knocks over a barstool with a loud clatter.

Our apartment is a wreck.

“Nobody,” I say flatly. And with one last flat look—first at me, then at Jamie—he steps out of the apartment, letting the door click shut behind him.

“…He said he still had feelings for me,” Jamie whispers, his voice so quiet I almost miss it.

My heart still thunders in my chest, the tension from Brandon’s exit buzzing under my skin. For a moment, I just stand there, staring after him, unable to speak. Then leftover adrenaline surges, and the laugh that escapes me is a weird mix of relief and annoyance.

Jamie blinks, eyebrows climbing. “What...? Why are you laughing?!”

Off to the side, Lucy is totally checked out of the conversation, opening a bag of chips and absentmindedly stuffing her face. She’s focused on the headlights of Brandon’s car as it disappears from the parking lot below.”

I told you so,” I say, my laugh coming out louder than I intend as I pull Jamie into a tight hug. The grip might be a little too firm—clearly I’m still riding that leftover anger.

Jamie glares at me, but I can’t stop grinning. Did he seriously think Brandon wasn’t still into him? Watching Jamie earlier, all sweet smiles and casual charm, it was painfully obvious Brandon was eating it up. The thought of it even now makes my blood simmer all over again.

“I don’t know why he thought…” Jamie trails off, searching for words. “I don’t know why he thought I would want to…”

He doesn’t need to finish. The fact that Brandon tried at all just proves my point.

“It’s your sweatpants,” I say, throwing him a wink. “They make your ass look way too good. You see what happens?”

Jamie groans. “And now you’re victim-blaming me—”

Before he can finish, I pounce with another tickle attack. He shrieks, collapsing onto the floor in a hysterical heap, swatting at my hands between breathless laughs. Finally, I pause, panting as I glance around.

Lucy’s still here, eyeing us with amusement. The tension drains from me all at once, my heart hammering but a smile tugging at my lips. I’m just glad the worst of the night seems to be behind us now.

My two best friends.

I wish life had brought us together more often—Jamie, Lucy, and me, in one place, like this. I’ve figured things out with Jamie, but in a perfect world, Lucy would always be around too.

That’s not how things work, though.

I grab a couple of pillows and toss them onto the couch for Lucy while Jamie stands to help. She grins at us, orange residue from Hot Cheetos staining the corner of her mouth.

“It's late,” I say, letting a smirk tug at my lips. “Let’s call it a night.”