“Good idea, though I already threw one back before I showed.” His eyes grew large. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Nah, don’t sweat it.” I lifted my hand to order him a stiff drink. Seemed he could use it. “It can be overwhelming meeting a bunch of new people.”
“Also meeting the handsome gay son of your boss,” he said, and his face splotched red. “I’m saying all the wrong things. Don’t mind me, I’ll just be in the corner, mortified.”
“Mom told you that?” God, how freaking embarrassing.
“Not in so many words.”
When I handed him his drink, he practically downed it.
“What exactly did she say?”
“You really want to know?”
I nodded, clenching my jaw.
“That you were a good catch. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”
If I had to guess, she’d taken a good look at his résumé and was impressed by one thing or another. Would probably tell me he had a promising career at Havemeyer and Whitney and would move up the ranks in record time.
“God. I’m sorry. She likes to meddle but means well,” I explained, and for the first time since meeting him, his shoulders unwound. “But hey, we could all use a friend, right?”
“Cheers to that,” he said, and we clinked glasses.
We made some more small talk, and then I took him around the table and introduced him to everyone. He loosened up even more as the beer flowed, and I noticed how Shawn, who looked a bit tipsy himself, kept topping him off. I ignored Mom’s meaningful looks until she thankfully said her goodbyes about an hour in. It wasn’t her sort of bar anyway.
We played several rounds of pool, and Jasper seemed to get along well with everyone, which would definitely help with future relationships. On its face, Mom’s idea was a good one.
Once the celebration headed to a close, Shawn suggested a new dance club nearby. As the group of us walked out to the parking lot, I’d planned to beg off, but I noticed Jasper stumbling on the landing in front of me, so I grabbed his elbow to steady him. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I… Jesus, I shouldn’t have drunk that last one.” His hand slammed over his mouth, his eyes bulging. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna hurl.”
And then he did, in the bushes near the entrance. Thankfully, the rest of the group was nearly to their cars and didn’t realize the new guy was puking. But damn, the dude couldn’t hold his liquor. I felt guilty for encouraging him after Mom introduced us.
“Hey, how about I get you home?” I said, patting his back.
He groaned. “Oh God, I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Been there, done that. Hopefully this wouldn’t be a repeat event for him. “Your secret’s safe with me. Let’s just get you home.”
I steered him to the passenger side of my car, punched his address into my GPS, and drove to his apartment, which was actually close to mine. He was asleep by the time I pulled into the parking lot, completely out of it when I nudged him awake, so I felt obligated to help him inside.
All the way up in the elevator he kept slurring apologies, still unsteady on his feet, and I continued telling him it would be okay. He seemed like a decent enough guy. I didn’t know his work ethic yet—or anything much about him, really—but he’d be okay once he got this night under his belt. We’d deal with the rest later.
As soon as I helped him with the key to his apartment and got him inside, he almost didn’t make it to the bathroom to puke again.
Not interested in watching, I backed away and glanced around. His place looked nice. I didn’t want to snoop, so I only casually noted a degree in a frame along with some family photos.
When I didn’t hear anything but silence from the bathroom, I stepped inside the door and saw him lying on the floor, his cheek on the cool tile.
“You okay?”
He didn’t answer, only moaned and held his stomach.
He would definitely be all right, but I didn’t want the guy to choke on his own vomit. So I decided to stay a little longer, and by then his stomach would likely be empty.
I walked to his kitchen, found a glass, and filled it with water. I set it on the vanity for him to drink later when he woke up with cottonmouth, and then I retreated to a comfy chair in his living room. I scrolled through my phone, my eyes growing tired, so I shut them, just for a minute…
Startled awake who knew how many hours later, I didn’t recognize my surroundings for a moment, and then it all came rushing back. Ah hell. So much for watching over him. I stood on stiff knees and padded to the bathroom to check on him, afraid of what I might find.
Jasper was sleeping soundly on the floor, his mouth hanging open. I considered helping him to his bed, but that might prove awkward. Instead, I tugged a throw from the couch and carefully placed it over him, then drove my ass home.
It was nearly dawn when I padded through my apartment door, then crawled into my sheets to sleep for a couple of hours. I absently noted my bed was empty, which meant Skylar was sleeping in his own. Made sense, since I hadn’t come home. I was so tired, regret couldn’t find its way inside me, and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was dead to the world.
21
Skylar
The last thing I expected when I got home the night before was for Clark not to be there. I noticed his light was off but figured he’d gone to bed already. He wasn’t up every night when I got home anymore, so I took care of my nighttime routine, checked to make sure there was nothing hanging on the door, and sneaked inside.
The second I got close to the bed, I realized he wasn’t in it. At first I freaked out. Panic seized my chest, my mind going to all these odd, dark places it shouldn’t go to just because a twentysomething guy wasn’t sleeping in his bed after a night out.
So I went ahead and climbed in because that had become our thing and he hadn’t texted me not to. I usually fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. That hadn’t happened, though. I tossed and turned, wondering what bar they were at and if Clark had met someone. He had every right to meet someone, of course. How many someones had I met in my life? Your eyes connect, you start talking, and before you know it, a hookup is on the horizon, and oh my God. What if he met someone, got so into it that he forgot about me, and came home with another guy, only to find me in his bed?
Shit!
I jumped up and did my best to make the bed just the way he did, which was a lot of fucking work, thank you very much. One would think it would be easy—and every time I’d made my own in the past it had been—but Clark folded the blankets and sheets in this specific way, straightened everything out so there wasn’t a single crease or wrinkle, like he’d gone to the university of expert bed makers.
I went to my bed, sure I’d go right to sleep, but nope, I’d lain there listening for him. Why was I listening for him? He was a grown man. He might come home with a guy, and if he did, that was none of my business. Knowing Clark, though, maybe he felt weird and went to the guy’s house instead because of me.
My stomach twisted uncomfortably. Great. Maybe I was coming down with the flu.