Page 8

Chapter 8

The one where Jeff delivers a surprise—and gets one back.

The drive home feels like a blur, but Lucy keeps me grounded. She talks me through everything, her voice calm and steady, cutting through the noise in my head. It helps, even if she’s not joking around like she usually does.

Instead, there’s a quiet seriousness in the way she talks about Jamie and me. It’s not teasing, but something deeper—and it scares the hell out of me. Lucy never takes things this seriously unless she really means it.

Her words replay in my mind long after we’ve left Nevada behind, confirming what I already know but don’t want to face. I’m in way over my head. Whatever this thing with Jamie is, it’s more than just history or nostalgia. It’s tangled up in a truth about myself I’ve been running from for years.

And the scariest part? I don’t think I can ignore it anymore.

By the time I pull into her apartment complex, I’m exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. But for the first time since running into Jamie at the grocery store, my head feels clear.

Lucy smiles at me as I park, her expression softer than usual. “Thanks for letting me tag along,” she says as we step out of the car. “It meant a lot to me—spending time with your family.”

I struggle to find the words. “I… I’m glad you came,” I finally say, pulling her into a hug. It feels inadequate, but I hope she knows how much I mean it.

Before heading inside, she turns back to me, her grin teasing. “You’re like the annoying brother I never wanted, Jeff.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re like the sister I didn’t know I needed.”

Her eyes get a little shiny, and she flips me off with a smile before disappearing into the building.

Sitting alone in the car, I feel an ache settle in my chest. Maybe it’s exhaustion, or maybe Lucy has cracked me open more than I want to admit. Whatever it is, I need to talk to Tiffany.

Now more than ever.

Still parked outside Lucy’s place, I pull out my phone and dial her.

“Hey, babe!” Tiffany answers after a few rings, her voice warm and familiar.

“Hey,” I say automatically, starting the car and pulling a U-turn.

“You back home safe?”

“Kinda,” I mumble, not sure what the hell that even means. I don’t know how to answer, so I change the subject. “I’m surprised you’re still awake. I hope you didn’t stay up just for my call…” I laugh, scratching the back of my head.

“Of course I did, Jeff. It’s not a big deal,” she says, her words slurring slightly.

“…Yo, are you drunk?” I ask, half laughing.

“Well, a little,” she admits. “I got to take home the extra wine after Thanksgiving dinner.”

I laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Nice…” I glance at the watch I bought her, pulling it out of my bag. It’s perfect. She’s going to love it. I made sure to pick the one she couldn’t stop staring at last time we went shopping.

I grin, imagining her reaction. This is going to be the surprise she doesn’t see coming. Lucy’s wrong about this, about us. This will prove it.

Even if Tiffany gets upset about Jamie being back in my life, even though he’s moved on and has a boyfriend, we’ll figure it out. We always do. Tiffany isn’t like anyone I’ve been with before. She was there for me at my lowest, after my last breakup, when I felt like I had nothing left to give. She helped build me back up, encouraged me, and stood by my side. We’re a team, something I’ve never had with any girl I dated before her, and that has to count for something.

I need to share this with her, the way we’ve shared everything else. It’s the only way forward: trust, openness, honesty. Even if it means admitting I’m struggling with my sexuality. Even if it means telling her about Jamie—what he means to me, and that I made a mistake letting myself kiss him again.

Tiffany will understand. She has to. She’ll see that, even with all the mess in my head, she’s the one I can do this with. She’s the one I want to do this with.

“I’m coming up to surprise you,” I say confidently, pulling into the parking lot and finding a visitor spot near her building.

“Wait… what?” Tiffany’s voice sounds startled, caught off guard.

“I’m parked downstairs. I’m coming up to see you,” I repeat, grabbing the watch from my bag as I step out of the car and lock the door behind me.

“Jeff, stop. Don’t come up.”

I frown, my pace slowing as I cross the lot toward the building’s entrance. “What? Why?” I laugh nervously, brushing off the unease creeping into my chest.

“It’s super late, Jeff! Now’s not a good time!” Her voice sharpens, the urgency impossible to miss.

Something about the way she says it makes my stomach twist, but I push the thought aside. I scan in with the code she gave me months ago, her words still buzzing in my ears as I hurry up the stairs to her floor.

“Jeff, stop! Seriously!”

Her tone stops me cold at the top of the staircase. I slow my steps, the confidence from moments ago slipping away. My heart starts to race as unease sets in, but I keep moving, making my way down the hallway to her door.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice cracking slightly as I come to a stop in front of her door.

“Nothing!” she insists, but I hear it—shuffling, a loud thud, and muffled voices coming from inside her room.

What the hell is happening in there?

“Jeff, stay there for a second. I’ll come down to you.”

I wait, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst. My grip tightens on the watch in my hand as I glance down the hallway, my mind racing through every possible explanation.

When the door finally creaks open, she’s standing there in her pajamas, her hair a mess, her face pale and panicked.

My stomach drops.

And then I see him. A man. Naked, sprawled out in her bed like he belongs there.

The watch slips from my fingers as my brain struggles to catch up with what I’m seeing.

“What the fuck?” My voice rises, shaky with fury. “What the fuck is this, Tiffany?!”

She presses her palm against my chest, her eyes wide and desperate. “Jeff, wait—just let me explain…”

Her grip on me is frantic, her fingers clawing at my shirt, but it barely registers. The anger surging through me is a storm, consuming every thought, every shred of self-control. My vision blurs with red as I shove past her, my body moving on pure instinct, a force I can’t stop.

The man is sprawled out on the bed, completely exposed, his wide-eyed panic only fueling the fire raging inside me.

“Get the fuck up!” I snarl, my voice unrecognizable even to myself.

Without hesitation, I hurl the watch box to the floor. The dull thud as it hits the carpet is drowned out by the sound of my fists slamming into his body.

He scrambles, his hands flying up to block the blows, but I don’t stop. Each punch lands harder than the last, every ounce of betrayal, humiliation, and fury behind it. The sharp pain of his fist connecting with my face barely slows me down. My nose explodes with pain, warm blood dripping down my lips, but it doesn’t matter.

“Jeff, STOP!” Tiffany’s scream cuts through the chaos, but I don’t listen.

The guy manages to shove me off balance, but I lunge back, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him down with me. We tumble off the bed in a flurry of fists and curses, the thudding of bodies hitting the floor echoing through the room.

Tiffany throws herself into the fight, clawing at my back, her nails raking through my shirt, but I barely feel it.

“GET OFF OF HIM!” she shrieks, her voice breaking into sobs as she claws at my back, her strength fueled by sheer panic. “This isn’t his fault, Jeff! It’s me—you’re angry at me! Leave him alone!”

I stumble back, my chest heaving, my fists still clenched so tight my knuckles burn. Tiffany steps between us, her tear-streaked face filled with fury and desperation.

“Get the fuck out of my room, Jeff!” she yells, her voice hoarse. “NOW!”

The words hit me like a slap, cutting through the haze of rage. My breathing is ragged, blood dripping down my face, my shirt sticking to my skin. The man on the floor is clutching his ribs, his face contorted in pain.

I glance down at the box with the watch, lying discarded on the carpet, the lid slightly askew. Picking it up, I shoot one last glare at Tiffany, my chest tightening.

Without another word, I storm out of the room, slamming the door behind me. The sound reverberates through the hallway, but it doesn’t feel loud enough to drown out the chaos still roaring in my head.

The drive back to my apartment is a blur of neon lights and dark streets. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly it feels like I might rip it off. My mind races, replaying the scene over and over, disbelief and rage battling for dominance.

Glancing at the rearview mirror, I catch my reflection—a bloodied nose, a split lip, streaks of red smeared across my jaw. I barely recognize the person staring back at me. My hand trembles as I swipe at the blood, but it only smears across my shirt, the fabric soaking it up like a stain I’ll never be able to wash out.

Fuck.

The word echoes in my head, growing louder with each passing second. My chest feels tight, like there’s a weight pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.

Slamming my palm against the steering wheel, I let out a furious yell. The hollow thud reverberates through the car, but it’s not enough to drown out the storm raging inside me. My mind flashes back to the room, to Tiffany’s voice breaking as she screamed at me to stop, to the guy’s wide-eyed panic, to the look on her face—fear, anger, and something that cut deeper than I was ready to face.

Everything’s ruined.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to surprise her, make her smile, prove that things could still be good between us. That I wasn’t the mess Lucy thought I was. That Tiffany and I could work through anything.

Instead, I’ve destroyed everything.

The rage twists into something sharper, something that burns hotter. But it’s not just anger anymore—it’s humiliation, regret, and shame. It churns in my gut, clawing at me from the inside.

I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles white, as a wave of exhaustion crashes over me. My whole body feels heavy, weighed down by the mess I’ve made, the choices I can’t take back.

The mirror catches my eye again, and for a moment, I think about the look on Tiffany’s face as she stood between me and him. Her words echo in my head: It’s me—you’re angry at me.

She’s right.

But knowing that doesn’t make it easier. It doesn’t erase the way my fists felt slamming into him, or the way her voice broke as she pulled me back.

I slam my fist against the steering wheel again, harder than before. Pain shoots up my arm, sharp and real, but it does nothing to silence the chaos raging inside me.

What the fuck have I done?

By the time I park in front of my apartment, I’m shaking. I throw the car into park, not even bothering to straighten it, and stumble inside. The door slams shut behind me, rattling on its hinges.

I head straight for the bathroom, my legs unsteady, my chest heaving. I flick on the light, gripping the sink as I stare at the mirror.

The reflection staring back at me looks like a stranger—my nose swollen and throbbing, streaks of blood smeared across my face, my shirt torn and filthy. I splash cold water on my face, the sting waking me up a little, and lean closer to the mirror.

At least my nose isn’t broken. Small fucking consolation.

I press a towel to my face, the adrenaline slowly draining, leaving only a dull ache in my chest. The anger isn’t gone, not even close. But beneath it, something sharper digs in—shame, regret, humiliation.

I slide down to sit on the bathroom floor, the cool tiles against my back as I stare at the towel in my hands, now streaked with blood. My fists clench again, my knuckles aching.

So close. I’d been so close to finding some self-acceptance, and now, within the span of an hour, it was all gone. I felt like shit.

I walk into the bedroom and sink onto the edge of my bed, my chest tight and my heart still racing. My hands shake as I pull out my phone, the glow of the screen harsh in the dark room. My thumb hovers over the contacts list, hesitating between two names: Lucy and Jamie.

Lucy would give me hell, no doubt, but she’d tell me what I needed to hear. Jamie… I was hurting, and all I wanted was the sound of his voice.

Before I can overthink it, I press Jamie’s name.

The line rings once, twice, and then: “Hello?”

His voice is groggy, thick with sleep, and I instantly feel a pang of guilt for waking him. But hearing him, even like this, washes over me like a breath of fresh air I didn’t realize I needed.

“Jamie…” I whisper, his name slipping out before I can stop it, the sound of it grounding me in a way nothing else has tonight.

There’s a pause on the line before Jamie’s concern sharpens. “What’s wrong? Jeff… Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

I reach up, gingerly touching my face. It hurts, but I can’t focus on the pain.

“I just got into a fight,” I say, my voice distant, the words not fully registering. The adrenaline still buzzes through me, making it hard to think straight. My heart hammers against my ribs, the chaos in my head louder than Jamie’s faint, uncertain chuckle.

“What’s wrong, dude? Did you get your ass kicked?”

“Tiffany’s been cheating on me.”

Jamie’s laughter fades instantly, replaced by a somber tone. “…Oh.”

The silence stretches between us, the weight of my words sinking in. Finally, I speak again, my voice quiet, raw. “I deserved it.”

“What?! Why are you saying that?” Jamie’s tone is sharp, incredulous.

“Because I do.”

“Jeff…” Jamie’s voice softens, steady but firm. “You don’t deserve it. Don’t fucking say that.”

“I do deserve it, for what I did with you.” The words spill out, my chest tightening as I say them. “I’m no better.”

Jamie falls silent, and for a moment, the air feels heavy, suffocating.

“I would’ve cheated on her too, Jamie,” I admit, my voice breaking. “If you hadn’t stopped me—both times. I had no willpower to actually stop. I would’ve done more. I deserve this. I deserve her cheating on me because I wasn’t faithful either. This is karma.”

“Jeff, you would have stopped,” Jamie says, his voice steady but filled with concern.

“No, I wouldn’t have.”

“Yes, you would have.”

“Jamie, I wanted to fuck you so goddamn badly back in Nevada,” I say, my voice cracking as I clench my fist. The confession feels raw, even liberating, but the weight of it bears down on me, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. My body aches from the fight, my nose throbs, and I’m startled by my own lack of filter. I’ve never said it out loud before—never truly admitted it—but there it is. I wanted Jamie. All of him. And now, the truth is finally clear as day.

The silence on the other end stretches so long that I start to wonder if Jamie hung up. My emotions are a mess, the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through me, leaving me shaky and restless.

“Jeff…” Jamie’s tone softens, and I can almost hear the faintest smile in his voice. Wait—was he laughing?

“Dude, are you fucking laughing at me right now?!”

More silence. Yeah, he totally has himself on mute and is cracking up. I know him too well.

“When you said I wouldn’t know what to do with you—Jamie, I wanted to rip your pants off and fuck you so hard right then—”

“Jeff!” Jamie’s voice cracks, caught between embarrassment and amusement. He’s off mute now, and definitely laughing, even with the serious nature of the conversation hanging in the air.

“Well, I’m a fucking wreck, dude. Fuck all of this, Jamie. I don’t even know who I am.”

“Quit being a drama queen. You’re Jeff.”

Jamie’s words, simple and unpolished, somehow hit harder than I expect. They offer a sliver of comfort, grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

“Quit freaking out,” Jamie adds, laughter still in his voice, but there’s something softer underneath it. “Why do you think any of this changes who you are? You’re still the same guy who made me play Mario Kart with broken controllers just so you’d win. The same guy who orders burgers plain because ketchup freaks you out.”

His words pull a small laugh out of me, despite everything. It’s such a Jamie way to remind me of myself—pointless and dumb and exactly what I need to hear.

“Yeah, well, that guy’s still a fucking mess.”

“Maybe,” Jamie says, his voice lighter now, “but you’re my favorite mess.”

For the first time all night, I manage a genuine smile, my heart racing in my chest. “Hey, Jamie… I’m so fucking glad we’re talking again.”

“Me too, Jeff. I missed you. For a long time.”

The relief in his voice feels like a balm to my frayed nerves, softening the sharp edges of everything clawing at me. Exhaustion tugs at me, but hearing those words makes the weight of the night just a little lighter.

“I missed you too,” I say, my voice unsteady. “I missed you so much, Jamie. I hated leaving you. I hated not replying to your text. It haunted me, but… all I wanted to do when I got back to Nevada was see you again. I hoped somehow you’d forgiven me.”

“…I didn’t think I would,” Jamie says quietly, his voice trailing off.

“Would what? Forgive me?”

“See you again.”

His words strike something deep inside me, the ache in my chest growing heavier. “Well, surprise.”

Jamie laughs softly, the sound bittersweet and familiar, like a thread pulling us back together. “Hey, Jeff, I gotta go. I have work in the morning. It’s really fucking late.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” The words slip out automatically, almost robotic, and I cringe at how detached I sound. It’s not how I want to leave things, not after everything that’s happened tonight. But my emotions are a mess, tangled and frayed, and I know I need to give Jamie space.

“Okay. Goodnight, Jeff.”

His voice is soft, steady, and I wish I could cling to that steadiness for just a little longer. There’s so much I want to say, so much I feel like I need to say, but the words stay lodged in my throat.

“Night, Jamie,” I finally reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

As the line goes quiet, I sit there holding the phone, staring at the screen as his name fades away. The room feels colder without his voice, and the silence presses down on me, heavier than it was before.

I know I’ll talk to him tomorrow, but the ache in my chest doesn’t care. I don’t want to let him go—not tonight, not again.