Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Christian
Logan sent the texts right as Tay and I were loading up our bikes.
Devon's upset.
Don’t bite his head off.
He’s drunk.
I stared at the screen for a solid minute before shoving the phone into my pocket. I’d rather crash my piece of shit bike at full speed than deal with that asshole drunk, but here we are.
The apartment’s quiet when I walk in, which means Logan’s probably asleep. I kick off my boots and head straight for my room, secretly pleased to find that Devon's still in there, though I'll never admit it out loud.
When I go to twist the handle, though, I find it locked.
“Fucking dick,” I mutter, turning toward the kitchen to dig a paperclip out of the junk drawer. It takes me two seconds to pick the lock—far from the first time I’ve done it. When we first moved in, this shitty door used to lock itself constantly if you closed it too hard.
Devon’s still in my bed when I get in, flat on his stomach as he stares at the vodka bottle on the nightstand. Dying to Love by Bad Omens echoes softly from his phone speaker. The red glow from The Ex Wife's lamp illuminates his bare back.
“Dev.”
No answer.
Shutting the door, I lean against it and shove my hands into my pockets. “Logan told me you were upset and drunk.”
He just sighs heavily. “I'm not drunk. Only had a few sips. Somehow stopped myself from chugging the whole thing.”
“But you're upset?” I move closer and pick up the bottle, but not before his hand snaps out to grab my wrist.
“Give it back.”
“Nah.”
His blazing gaze darts to mine. “It’s all I’ve got.”
For some reason, that pisses me the fuck off. “You've got me,” I growl without thinking. When his eyes narrow, an odd heat crawls up my neck. “I just mean you’re not alone. Stop acting like you are.”
His throat works around a swallow as he collapses back onto my pillow. “Feels like I am.”
All I can do is stand there and stare at him for a few seconds, unsure of how to respond. Part of me wants to shake him and tell him to stop being a baby-back bitch, but I don't think The Taylor Method will work here.
When my best friend was going through shit like this, I had to give him some tough love. We got into so many fist fights those days after his dad died and Huck left, but it was never out of anger or hate. He just needed someone to take it out on, and I was more than happy to spar with him.
Something tells me Devon is different. He doesn't need the sense knocked back into him, he needs…
another approach. A kinder one. Like my siblings when they were younger and annoying as fuck, but I held them close just to stop the crying.
Not sure if I can do that for Dev, but I guess I could try, if only to get the cocky asshole from last year back.
Sitting on the side of the bed, I pull a leg up and rest my elbow on my knee. “Why are you upset, Dev?”
“Why are you here, Chris?”
I cringe hard at the sound of my sperm donor’s name. “Don't call me that, fucker. And this is my room. Which I told you to get out of.”
“You want me to go?” His gaze finds mine again, brows raised in question. The sadness on his face makes me so damn pissed, and I hate it.
“Tell me why you're mad. What happened? Did Logan's pasta give you indigestion, old man?”
He knees me in the hip, lips twitching. “Fuck off, I'm only five years older than you.”
“Ancient ass dinosaur with an attitude problem.”
“This dinosaur sucks your dick pretty good,” he fires back, grinning lazily. It almost looks like the one he'd wear during the tour, and my heart jumps at the sight.
“Look, man,” I start as I scrub at my forehead. “If you wanna talk about shit, I'm here, or whatever. Taylor went through similar stuff and I helped him through it.”
Devon gazes at me for a long moment. “Taylor. Right.” He flops onto his back. “You have a thing for him?”
My hackles raise immediately. “Seriously? I'm trying to help you here and you wanna be an asshole?”
“I'm just curious,” he shrugs. “Dude lived on the other side of that wall for years. I know you two shared chicks. Did you jerk off to his noises, too?”
“So what if I did? What's it to you, motherfucker? I like listening and watching people fuck. I won't apologize for it.”
Devon hums, dragging a hand down his bare torso before slipping it beneath his pants. “You definitely like to watch, judging from how hard you got when we fucked your girl last summer.”
My cock thumps at the memory, but I scowl at him. “You know what I didn't like watching? You fucking her behind my back when I walked into the RV.”
The flirty expression falls from his face.
We stare at each other silently, and he removes his hand. “I know. I'm sorry.”
Feeling exhausted all of a sudden, I rub my eyes with a heavy sigh. Fuck, I have to get up early tomorrow. “I'm sick of being angry over it. This ain't like me. Being mad at people, holding grudges. I'm not like that, man. Never have been. Just tell me why you did it so we can move the fuck on.”
Dev sits up against the headboard slowly, no longer meeting my gaze. He squints at my terrarium as he tongues his lip piercing. “I did it because I wanted her to choose me over you.”
“Wow.” My half-hard dick deflates instantly. “You really are a piece of shit, Devon.”
“No, I know, but that’s not what I meant.” Inhaling a shaky breath, he finally looks me in the eye. “You didn't choose me. That fight in the hotel room? Hell, even when I asked you who sucked dick better, you chose Arya. But when it came down to it, she didn't choose you back.”
“Thanks for the fucking reminder.”
He shakes his head before letting it thump against the wall. “I'm explaining this all wrong. It's like… it hurt, okay? Being passed over yet again. I just wanted someone to want me back for once.”
An uncomfortable feeling stirs in my chest. Unable to come up with a reply, I just let my attention bounce around his chest and abs until he continues.
“You ever been the guy people only want around when you’re fun? When you’re drunk or carrying enough blow to make them forget everything?”
“Dev—”
He huffs out a humorless laugh. “You’ve probably never felt shit like that. Your friends and family actually want you around, even when you have nothing to offer. Just because they love you. Nobody wants me around.”
It's on the tip of my tongue to scoff, to tell him that people love him, but I stop myself because it's an automatic response. That's what we tell people when they say things like this, right? You matter, you're loved, you have so many people who care about you. But… does he, really?
Does Devon have anyone in his life at this point?
Logan, maybe. I don't know much about the shit with his parents, but from the looks of it, they're not close.
And yeah, he's a raging asshole who pushes people away with his attitude, but Jesus.
Isn't there like… someone out there that doesn't let him?
Taylor and I have that. I guess him and Huck, too. Logan and Salem have that. So do Matty and Xed.
Who does Devon have?
“Anyway,” he continues. “I'm sorry. I was high and lonely. Jealous. I wanted you to hurt as much as I did. It was messed up.”
“Yeah, it was,” I agree, but my voice has no bite. Might be a little raspy, in fact.
“So go ahead.” Devon smiles dryly as he throws his arms wide. “Lay into me. I deserve it. Tell me everything about me I already know so we can call it a night. I'm tired.”
I study him lengthily, taking in the stubble on his cheeks and the barbell between his brows. There are bags beneath his eyes like he hasn't been sleeping well, and I can’t help but feel like I'm partially to blame for that, too. “I don't wanna fight with you, Dev.”
“Then what do you want?”
Blowing out a breath, I get to my feet and face him. My denim jacket slides off my arms—not the leather one he won't give back—before I pull my shirt over my head.
“Here's what I want.” Slowly undoing my jeans, I hold his gaze as I let them fall to the floor. “Morning comes fucking early, and I have to be at Taylor's house before the sun rises. We're gonna get each other off and then go to sleep.”
Devon's eyes widen into saucers. “We are?”
“Yep.” Now in nothing but the jockstrap I wear when I'm riding, I crawl onto the bed, straddling his thighs. “I don't know about you, but an orgasm always puts me to sleep.”
“Fuck, the way you look in that thing,” he groans, reaching for my waist.
“Keeps my junk safe when I land a jump.”
Leaning in, he hums and brushes his nose against the side of my neck. I won't lie… it feels fantastic.
“You smell like dirt and engine oil,” he murmurs into my throat.
A laugh bursts out of me. “You pick up all the ladies with that one? Telling them they smell like dirt?”
“It's sexy on you. Reminds me what you do for a living.”
“Sexy, huh?”
“Yeah. Dirt bikes are sexy.”
“Well, I planned on showering once I get to California, so probably no head tonight. Unless sweaty dick tastes good.”
“Sometimes,” he grins, making my chest do that weird flipping shit that happens every time he smiles. “But you could always suck mine instead.”
That makes me pause as I drop my gaze down to the blanket still trapped between us. Obviously, I’ve thought about it. The memory of Owen on his knees still makes me irrationally angry, especially because the little fucker got to taste Devon before I did. Unfair.
“You're huge, though,” I mumble, dragging the blanket down to find him wearing nothing but his underwear. Brand new underwear that isn't mine. Which also pisses me off.
“It's just a blowjob, hot shot,” he chuckles. “Not like I'm fucking you.”
I hiss when he brushes a thumb over my nipple, but honestly, it's more from the thought of his huge cock in my ass—piercing and all.
Jesus, he'd rip me apart with that thing, and I refuse to acknowledge how hard my dick gets thinking about it.