I don’t even know what I’m saying. I blame the gin.
Love always,
Wild~
P.S. Speaking of not playing fair, or dirty, in this regard. Gin-addled brain or not, how could I forget that night? I don’t remember anything about the stupid game, except that you got ejected. I don’t think I’d ever seen you so… angry… unhinged I think is a better word.
FROM: [email protected]
Date: Sept 3 8:40 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Sorry not Sorry
Wild,
I know I’m not playing fair, but I figured I’d throw myself into the fire and see what happens. And to be honest, I can’t remember the last time I ate a Hershey’s Kiss. But I should let you get back to your friends. I hope you don’t wake up tomorrow regretting anything you’ve told me tonight. I think if we ever want to move forward, we have to open up some of our old wounds.
Being with you was the only thing that ever brought me peace.
Jax~
P.S. I was a mess that night, but you knew what I needed before I ever did.
FROM: [email protected]
Date: Sept 3 8:57 PM
SUBJECT: How very Aragorn of you
Jax,
No need to sacrifice yourself. I’m still open to negotiations. And how tragic that you’ve forsaken your love for tiny, bite-sized pieces of chocolate. I demand you buy a bag and eat until you puke. That way I won’t be the only one hugging the toilet tonight. I’m really not that drunk. Not yet, at least.
But all humor aside. I can’t be the one to bring you peace. You have to find that for yourself.
P.S. The way I remember it, I was the one who needed something that night. I’ve never felt so fragile.
The memory of that night flooded through me, and heat pricked at the back of my neck as I palmed the bulge in my shorts. That night I’d been furious at myself, at my coach, the entire fucking world. After that game, I couldn’t stop the anger from building. Looking back, I realized it was a culmination of everything. Getting ejected for swearing at the ref, then Carson had made some homophobic joke in the locker room, and I couldn’t say shit about it without revealing my sexuality to the whole team. By the time I’d made my way to Wild’s dorm room, I’d been itching for him. Needing his hands, his mouth. Anything to sate the anger. But like always, he’d given me more than I’d ever been worthy of. That night, Wild had given me his trust and his body for the first time. I wanted to earn back that trust, not because I wanted to fuck him again, but because I wanted to be worthy of it, of him. I wanted to be his.
I started to type out another email when a text came through on my phone. Thinking it was probably Jim wanting to go over the plan for tomorrow, I closed out of my email.
Wild: This is June, Wilder’s friend.
Me: Hey?
Wild: Listen, I have to be quick. He’ll be back from the bar any second.
Wild: I need you to do me a favor.
Me: Okay?
Feeling confused as hell, I waited.
Wild: I need you to either shit or get off the pot because I CANNOT deal with his mopey ass one more minute.
Wild: You fucked up, but I’m going to tell you how to fix it.
Me: How?
Wild: We’re at this club, just outside of Atlanta, called The Underground. You have GPS?
Me: Yeah
Wild: Then use it.
Me: You think I should just show up? That didn’t work last time.
Wild: Believe me, I know.
Wild: Shit, he’s coming over here.
Wild: He needs this. You both do. Don’t be a fucking coward.
Me: Hello?
How did I know this was actually June? And not another one of his friends fucking with me? Or worse, if it was Wild fucking with me.
Me: Wild?
I waited for Wild to email me, to text me and tell me if I stepped foot in that club tonight, he’d never speak to me again. I waited for a full twenty minutes, debating if I should text him back, call him, or like June had said, if it was really June at all, just show up. My stomach was sick and empty when Hudson called out to tell me the pizza had arrived. Dropping my phone on my bed, I stood and rummaged through the closet. I didn’t bring much, and I had no idea what to wear to a club. The nicest thing I had with me was a pale gray t-shirt that was too tight to wear to work, and a pair of jeans. I settled on those, snagged my towel from the back of the desk chair, and I almost ran into Hudson when I opened the bedroom door.
“Pizza is on the stove.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m going out.”
WILDER
Tonight, I was supposed to be the best friend for once. Shelve all my dramatic bullshit, but that hadn’t lasted more than a few hours thanks to Jax and his goddamn perfect emails. I was irritable and moody and not drunk enough to deal with some of the grenades he’d thrown at me tonight. I could see June eyeing me from the dance floor, but I refused to let her worry. I tried on my best smile and waved. She frowned and headed toward our table.
“Nope,” I said under my breath and hopped down from the stool I’d permanently attached to my ass since we’d been here.
I weaved through a sea of sweat and skin, realizing too late that the line at the bar was inconveniently long. Telling myself I needed a distraction, and by no means was worried whether Jax had emailed me back yet, I reached into my back pocket for my phone. When I found it empty, I had a moment of panic. The gin I’d already consumed made everything more heightened than it needed to be. I’d most likely left my cell on the table, which could be problematic if someone stole it but, at this point, I’d consider that an intervention planned by the universe. It was stupid and definitely damaging to want Jax’s attention. What good could come from any of this, from that fleeting feeling building in my stomach. It was like the day before I released my book, or that second before a kiss, that hesitation, it’s the highest peak before a huge drop. That heart in the throat, everything clicking into place kind of feeling where everything was scary but right and good. Jax was the only man capable of making me feel this way. And his emails tonight, it was like he reached into my brain and said everything I’d ever wanted to hear from him.
“‘About time,” I mumbled.
The guy in front of me turned and gave me a dirty look. Luckily, the line moved, sparing me an awkward conversation.
I stepped up to the bar and smiled at the cute bartender. He had a lip ring and lots of tattoos. Not usually my type, but maybe that was my problem. I had to get over this whole clean-cut, All-American-boy bullshit.
He smiled as he wiped down the counter. “What can I get for you?”
I thought about flirting, but everything I wanted to say sounded ridiculous in my head. I wasn’t in tip-top form tonight and should probably focus on getting as drunk as humanly possible.