Page 56 of Want Me
Jesse had gone stock-still, and I couldn’t read his expression, but I gauged Mark’s as utter disbelief. I was right there with him. It was like Thanksgiving all over again. Man, I really had zero cool in these kinds of situations. I seemed to either cold-shoulder people or just verbally vomit everything out at once. I’d be the worst politician ever.
“You’re shitting me,” Jesse muttered.
“Fuck.” I pushed my chair back from the table, at least remembering to shift my weight so the legs didn’t screech dramatically over the floor. “The whole coming-out thing is a load of horseshit and I’m done with it.” I swiped my napkin across my mouth, then balled it up and tossed it on my tray. “I’m pretty sure that as my friends you’re supposed to be more supportive of it or some shit.” I left my tray on the table and ditched out, pushing through the double doors and starting across the quad. It was cold as shit outside, and I’d forgotten my damn pullover in the cafeteria but sure as hell wasn’t going back to get it. Fuck it. I’d check the lost and found later.
With my phone in my hand, I thumbed open my texts, about to message Eric and see if he wanted to meet up to fuck the agitation out of me—though if I was being honest, as much as I knew a hard fuck would get me on an even keel again, it was also just being around him that I craved. Like a moth to a fucking flame. A very dirty, very potent flame.
“Dude, your pullover.” I whipped my head around as Mark jogged up, his arm extended and my fleece dangling from his fingertips. I snatched it with a muttered thanks as he fell in step beside me, panting as he tried to catch his breath.
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded tersely. “Yeah, it’s fine. I blew up. It was uncalled for, I guess.”
He grabbed my shirtsleeve and stopped me, dragging me to a nearby stand of trees huddled around a small bench. I pulled my fleece over my head and parked my ass against a tree trunk as Mark lit into me, most likely deservedly. “You haven’t exactly been forthcoming lately, and you haven’t made it fucking easy to be supportive of anything when you’re hiding shit and lying about it. Constantly. And I think usually when there’s a whole coming-out thing, there’s a little more preamble or something than out of the fucking blue in the middle of the caf to two dudes you’ve been blowing off for the last two months.” He lifted his hand before I could spout off again. “I’m not saying I don’t get why you did that, but shit, cut me a little slack. I really did think you were getting into a problem or something.” He rubbed one shoulder uncomfortably.
“Why?” I demanded.
Mark let out a long breath. “Well, for one, you two suddenly started hanging out together, and then the whole thing with Merriweather happened and…” Mark paused. “Eric’s pretty tight with that Chet guy, right?” He said Chet’s name like it was something nasty stuck on the roof of his mouth.
“Yeah, I guess. I don’t really know Chet at all.”
“Well, Chet’s a fucking tool, and he was supplying Cam.”
I bit my lip. Definitely not the time to remind Mark that a supplier didn’t an addict make, but I could understand his concern now. Maybe?
I sagged a little against the tree, an involuntary mea culpa. “Sorry. I had no idea. I don’t see them hanging out much lately because…” I gestured to myself as if the reason should be obvious now. “But that’s not Eric. Trust me, I’d know. I mean, I’ve seen him hammered before, and he’s done some shit, but he’s not an addict or a dealer.” In truth, I didn’t have 100 percent proof of this, but I did have 100 percent trust in him and in my own assessment of him. That realization whooshed through me and threatened to send me into another internal tailspin because, holy shit, I wasn’t even sure when I’d last trusted someone I was involved with the way I trusted him. If ever. Not just in the bedroom, but beyond. “But I’m not doing shady shit, okay? I promise. Just freaking the fuck out over a bunch of other stuff.”
Mark settled his ass onto the rail of the bench and gave me an expectant look, so I told him an abbreviated and much tamer version of how Eric and I had begun in the first place. Surprisingly, Mark listened attentively. “My parents know,” I finished. “I sort of dropped it on them over Thanksgiving.”
“Jesus, was it weird?”
“Awkward as fuck, yeah, but okay in the end.”
Mark rubbed his lips together and fiddled with the strap of the backpack he’d let sag against his shins. “Cam and I kinda messed around once.” He glanced up at me, and the hesitation in his eyes kept me quiet, waiting to see if he wanted to say more. “We were both really fucked-up, and it wasn’t a big deal I didn’t think, but I dunno. I think maybe he regretted it a lot, and it ate at him and…shit.” He sucked a breath through his clenched teeth and shook his head. “His parents are really…they’re strict. Like devout-ass Baptists or something. Him being in a frat in the first place was rough from the get-go—I mean, they wanted him to go to a fucking seminary. Anyway, I just kinda wrote it off as like…heteroflexibility or something, but I don’t think he did. It didn’t happen again, and obviously neither of us felt any sort of urge to share with the class, but…I guess it messed with him.”
“Damn, that sucks. I mean, you know him OD’ing wasn’t your fault, though, right?”
Mark gave me a pained glance, then shrugged, seeming unconvinced. “In theory, yeah. I mean, I didn’t put the drugs in his hands or anything, but I guess I…” He shook his head. “I feel like I should’ve done more or noticed that it was becoming more than a party thing.”
“Dude, we were sophomores and you’re not his dad. Did he want more or something? With you, I mean?”
“What? No! Like the opposite actually. He kinda started shutting me out, and that’s when I started noticing Chet coming around.”
I narrowed my eyes, because something about the story didn’t quite add up to me, but Mark turned the conversation and seemed ready to get off the subject.
“Think Jesse’s pissed at you, though.”
My brow wrinkled. “Jesse? What the hell for? He should be the understanding one.” I remembered the frozen look on his face, but I’d kinda forgotten all about him when Mark and I had gotten into it.
“I’m pretty sure he’s had a major undercover boner for Eric since the dude moved in.”
“Shit,” I muttered. “I guess I should talk to him.” Excellent. Something else for me to dread: Jesse’s big ol’ brown-eyed gaze looking at me like I’d kicked him right in the balls.
Mark eyed me and raised a brow. “Or…you could take your own advice. You’re not Jesse’s keeper. Let him work it out.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I knew he knew what I meant. For lying to him, for shutting him out. For everything. It hadn’t been fair, even if he was a tool sometimes. I was, too.
Mark stretched his legs out, lifting off the armrest as he shouldered his backpack and gave me a one-armed hug. “No sweat, man. I’m sorry for coming on strong and from the totally wrong angle. ”