“Then look at me.”
Slowly, I turn over so we’re facing each other. I hate the softness I see in his eyes. The understanding. The undeserved tenderness.
He swipes his calloused thumb under my eyes. “Why are you trying to not make me feel bad?”
“Because I hurt you,” I admit.
“You did.”
“And you shouldn’t forgive me.”
“Maybe not.”
I inhale sharply. “So, what more is there to say?”
“That you’ll stay the night.”
I blink. “What?”
“I thought things were different for you. That you’d found something special back East. I thought that’s why you refused to contact me--because there was something better there--and I was okay with that. But I’m not okay with this.”
He wipes under my eyes again.
“So...what are you saying?” I whisper. “That I should stay the night?”
“Yeah. I’m not gonna make you, but I’d like it if you did.”
“But my dad--”
“Adam’s covering for you, right?” he asks.
I nod.
“Then stay, Ash.”
Stay. He made it sound so easy. Maybe it could be that easy.
“Alright.” Relieved, I curl into his chest.
We wake up late. I’m a little sore, but it’s not that bad. We didn’t talk much the night before, and maybe it was for the best. The thoughts I was having scared me so much that if I’d admitted them out loud I might’ve lost my nerve.
Jake kicked open the door, smiling. “Here’s your Lucky Charms cereal.”
I smile, sitting up. “Thanks.”
He sets it down next to the bong. I’d thrown the condoms away last night. “I know it’s not much,” he continues.
“Getting breakfast in bed is always the best.”
He sits with a tight smile. “Have you called Adam yet?”
I take a deep breath. Now or never. “No. I was actually thinking you could drive me home.”
He frowns. “What?”
“Adam doesn’t need to come all the way out here.”
His frown deepens. “But your dad will know.”
“I know. It’s okay. I want him to.”
I sit with Jake in his truck outside the house I grew up in, trying to breathe. On the way over, it hit us both that the Fourth of July firework celebration was going to be in a few days. We would be ruining his holiday.
“We could wait,” Jake had said.
I nixed that idea. I didn’t want to wait any more. Besides, he’d find out soon regardless. This time of year was probably already ruined for him.
I can see mom’s back as she washes dishes. They probably just finished eating breakfast. They haven’t seen me yet.
“Things might go differently this time,” Jake says.
“Maybe.” I hope it does, though I know it probably won’t.
“You know, we could--”
“Don’t suggest we wait again,” I interrupt.
He shakes his head. “Alright.”
I shut my eyes, trying to remember every detail of the old colonial. It’s blue shutters and blue doors. The wood floors. The brick fireplace. The ugly, old chipped Lisa Frank aqua tiling in the bathroom that my mom was always getting on my dad’s case to fix, and that he kept putting off because of the cost.
This might be the last time I see this house filled with so many beautiful memories. The cookies my mom made whenever I was upset. My dad’s pride when I got my art scholarship. Regardless of what happened, I had to remember that those things were real. They did love me, in their own way, even if they couldn’t accept who I was. It’s strange how a person can be so full of love and fear at the same time.
Fear strangles love. Fear makes hate easy. I was done with fear and hate. I wanted to love honestly even if it meant I’d sometimes feel alone, because nothing is worse than the isolation you feel when you’re caught in a lie.
This year, if I watched the fireworks with my family, Jake would be there too.
He takes my hand. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
He’s quiet.
I decide to elaborate. “Even if they don’t accept it, it will be okay.”
He clears his throat. “Really?”
“Yeah. I can’t force them to accept me, but I can accept myself and that’s far more important.” I squeeze his hand. “I tried to tell myself that lying about who I was was just a small lie, but it wasn’t. It made me do cruel things to the people I loved-- not just you. It was also cruel to my parents. Their rejection hurt a lot. I did not tell them I was in pain and that let them keep hurting me. My silence enabled their cruelty.”
I let go of his hand and look back at the house. “Even if you and I don’t end up together, I’ll be glad I did this.”
“Really?”
I look back at him, smiling through my tears. “Yeah. This year, you and I will watch the fireworks together, just like we did after the first time.”
Thank you for reading my book! Please check out http://www.devynmorgan.com for news about my next books!
Friends Like You
Beau Bishop
Chapter One
Jason Reed was, without any exaggeration, absolutely normal. When he was in high school, he’d done all the things that were expected of an average American youth, seamlessly transitioning from awkward middle schooler to one of the most popular guys in the school for no reason other than because it was what was expected of him. He’d spent four years playing football, dating pretty but ditsy girls and avoiding homework until he’d finally graduated with a clean record, fairly acceptable grades, and a sports’ scholarship to his name. His life was pretty much the epitome of normal.
He’d spent the first year of college desperately trying to adjust to the heightened workload, opting to spend most of his free time when he was off of the playing field with his nose buried in a textbook, lest his GPA dropped and he lost his scholarship. His parents threatening to cut him off if he got any less than a 3.0 was also a great motivating factor in his sudden change in attitude towards studying. It had been hard at first, but it was what everyone expected of him, so he did it without complaint. He’d managed.
His life didn’t suddenly become more interesting as a college student. In fact, besides the abysmal amount of homework, things were pretty much the same. It was comfortable. He didn’t have to think too hard about what he was doing; it’d been clear to him for years where he was headed. It was almost too easy to avoid thinking about what he really wanted when his entire life was already practically planned out for him.
Socially, he’d definitely found his place with the other athletes. Falling into their crowd had felt natural, and he quickly gained back the high status he’d maintained throughout high school with minimal effort. It wasn't exactly rocket science; a rumor here, a party there, and he was once again enjoying the benefits of being at the top of the social pyramid.
It also helped that he looked the part of the classic jock, as well. He didn’t mean to play directly into the stereotype, but with an average height and a way-more-than-average muscular build, dirty blonde hair and blue eyes that could make even the snootiest woman weak in the knees, what could he do? He was lucky, and he knew it; there was no shame in using his assets to his advantage.
And now he was nearing the end of his third year at an average university, a quaint school a few towns over from where he had grown up, quarterback of the varsity football team, and a notorious playboy just like half of the male population of the entire school. Just as everyone expected. And with the way he was raised, he himself kind of expected it too, to be perfectly honest. His life was predictable, and he liked it just the way it was.
Tests, however, were the type of unpredictability that every student had to deal with. And Jason's test was laid out for him when he met Anderson.
Jason slid into an empty seat
in front of the bar, slumping over heavily onto his crossed arms. After a long day of brutal exams, all he had wanted to do was sleep, but finding that his nerves were tangled to the point that collapsing into bed was no longer an option, found himself here.
The clink of bottles from behind the counter signaled the approach of the bartender. He heard a familiar dry laugh from across the counter. “Rough day?”
Groaning and lifting his head to look at the bartender, Jason rubbed his eyes with one hand and replied, “You couldn't even imagine. Exams do not get better the second time around.”
“Well considering you're here, I think I have a pretty good idea,” the bartender said, reaching behind the counter to grab a small rag and busying himself with wiping down a glass.
The man behind the counter was tall with brown hair, strongly defined cheekbones, and a fierce, playful glint that remained in his eyes even when he wasn't smiling. It wasn't the first time Jason had seen him, being a regular at this particular bar, but it was the first time they had spoken to each other. And because Jason usually came in with a large, obnoxious, and usually drunk, group of friends, it also happened to the be the first time he’d come alone. It was unfamiliar, but tonight he just needed a break from all the insanity.
Racking his brain for the first drink he could think of, Jason mumbled it to the amused bartender and dropped his head back onto his arms. He was exhausted and pretty sure the alcohol wouldn't do much to help the headache he felt spreading behind his eyes, but with his friends deciding to stay home to “celebrate” with his girlfriend, this had felt like the best option.
The bartender let out another dry laugh and shook his head, sliding a drink across the bar. “On the house, buddy. You look like you need something strong tonight,” he said as he teased the regular to his bar, then turned his attention back to wiping down the counter.
“This isn't what I asked for. How do you know I'll drink it?”
The bartender looked up and smirked. “Oh, you'll drink it. It's what you came for, isn't it?”
Jason snorted but took the drink in his hand anyway, feeling slightly miffed about the man’s attitude even as he drained the contents of the glass. The alcohol burned pleasantly as it went down his throat, setting a warm fire in the pit of his stomach. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before resting his head on his palm, looking past the man behind the counter, not really focusing on anything in particular. “Thanks. I really—I really did need that.”
The bartender acknowledged him with a simple incline of the head, setting down another drink in front of Jason, this time the one he actually asked for. “Anytime. Name's Cameron, by the way. You're in here a lot, thought I'd say a proper hello to a regular."
Jason held out a hand, "Jason. And thanks."
Taking a slow sip of the tangy beer, Jason turned away from the counter and let the tension flood out of his body. The atmosphere of the bar was relaxing, with only a few other people scattered throughout the room besides himself. All of them were alone, content to seclude themselves in a dimly lit corner to knock back drinks and lose themselves to their numbing effects. He was sure some of them were here for the same reason as him, but didn’t really think too hard on the subject.
The bar seemed somehow smaller now compared to when it was packed full of people, more welcoming. A little bit warmer, maybe.
Finishing his drink and gently placing the glass back on the counter, Jason pulled out some cash before slapping it down on the wood and standing up, deciding that sleep was definitely a better remedy for his exhaustion than alcohol.
Cameron nodded at him and smirked again, eyes filled with mirth. “Get some rest tonight, kid.”
Making a face and grumbling good-naturedly and the man’s goodbye, Jason shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped out into the cool night air.
Taking in a long breath through his nose, he tried to clear his head of the slight alcohol-induced haze and began his trek home.
He lived in a small apartment comfortably situation at the halfway point between his university and the bar, making it a comfortable walking distance from both locations. Tonight, though, his limbs heavy and uncooperative with tiredness, the walk had never seemed longer.
Although the bar that he chose to frequent was on the more peaceful side of town, getting home required him to walk through the area dubbed “the party district,” the place where people could drink and dance their fill no matter the time of day. Most days, Jason was one of those people.
Honestly, he was pretty surprised with himself for not being there tonight, at the very center of attention. Usually by now he’d at least have found some nameless face to fall into bed with and kick out ever so ungraciously in the morning, further solidifying his “player” reputation.
Jason sighed and kicked a rock into the gutter, half-heartedly ignoring the drunk shouts of the other students, wanting more than anything to just be able to magically transport himself directly into his bed.
He probably should’ve been paying more attention to where he was going. One second he was minding his own business, wondering idly when his sneakers had got so worn out—the next he was being shoved rudely to the ground by several rough and very unpleasant looking individuals. Two of them kept walking as if they hadn’t even noticed, leaning heavily against each other and having a quiet but slurred conversation under their breath. The third turned and gave him a venomous look, baring his teeth in a way that revealed a split, bloody lip and red running down his mouth and chin.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” he growled, spitting out a glob of bloody saliva on the ground near Jason’s foot before following after his friends. Jason raised his middle finger after them and hissed at the stinging of his scraped palms, lifting himself off the ground. Brushing himself off, he examined his torn hands, wishing absently that he had chosen the long route home, or at least had sense to keep his head up.
Then he paused. Hearing an audible groan emanating from the alley the thugs had emerged from, Jason decided that upon having his plans for a peaceful night already disrupted, it couldn’t hurt to go and investigate the source of the noise.
Peeking around the corner, his eyes adjusted to the darkness to see a figure struggling to stand up on shaky and probably injured legs. Jason cleared his throat and the figure––now clearly revealed to be a young male––whipped his head around, eyes wide and frightened. Jason raised his hands in a placating manner as he approached and the other let out a relieved puff of breath before slumping heavily against the wall.
Jason stopped when he reached the man’s side, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder. He cleared his throat again and said in a voice a lot calmer than he felt, “Hey, are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?”
The man looked up at him and shook his head, gritting his teeth and smiling weakly. “Nah, it’s okay. I get this a lot. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“Are you sure? You’re pretty roughed up, man.”
“Look, I swear I’m okay,” insisted the man, brushing Jason’s hand off of his shoulder, “I’ll manage.”
He began to walk towards the entrance to the alley, using one hand to brace himself against the wall, the other clutched against his ribs. Jason followed behind him, unsure. Should he just leave the guy be? Would that be right? He was exhausted, he wanted to sleep, and he didn’t really want to get involved with some random stranger he found on the street––but would it really be right to leave an injured person all on their own?
When the man took another unsteady step and whimpered, doubling over to clutch his midsection and Jason immediately went to catch him, he knew that his brain had already made the decision for him. The man grunted and tried to shake him off, but Jason just tightened his grip and shifted his position so that he was supporting most of the other’s weight, one of his arms around his waist and the other holding the man’s arm over his shoulder.
Chapter Two
“Get off!” the man snarled, then
bit his lip, obviously in pain.
“I can’t. I’m not that much of a dick. My place isn’t too far from here, and you’re obviously not going to be able to make it anywhere else on your own, so–”
“I can take care of myself,” the other cut in, gasping as he jostled his ribs accidentally.
“Come on. Please.”
After another moment of struggling, the man seemed to give up, letting Jason support him more fully.
“Good choice,” Jason teased, trying to lighten up the mood. The man simply glared.
The rest of the walk back to Jason’s apartment was quiet, save for the occasional pained noise that escaped the injured man’s mouth.
By the time they finally reached their destination, Jason was out of breath and his mysterious companion was barely conscious. Never had he been this thankful for choosing an apartment on the first floor. Gently murmuring encouraging “we’re almost theres” and “you’re gonna be okays” into the man’s ear, Jason let go of the other to reach into his pocket for his keys, unlocking the apartment door. Propping the door open with his foot, he renewed his hold on the man, practically dragging him inside, dropping him unceremoniously on his black leather couch.
He took a short moment to catch his breath, then shuffled to the bathroom in search of supplies. Crouching down and pulling open one of the drawers under the sink, he blindly felt around until his hands found purchase on the first aid kit the previous tenant had left behind when they had moved out. Making a small triumphant sound in the back of his throat, Jason pulled the white box out and blew the dust of the lid, sneezing.
Standing, he accidentally caught a glimpse of his wrecked appearance in the mirror and grimaced, averting his eyes. Pointedly avoiding looking at himself again, he examined the stranger’s reflection curiously, wondering why he had thought that bringing the man home was a good idea in the first place.
Of course, Jason blamed his sleep addled mind for making such an impulsive decision. Obviously it wasn’t a good idea, but he couldn’t just leave guy stranded all alone in some dark alley, now could he?
You May Have Met Him Page 20