14. Evan
EVAN
Evan couldn’t remember how he’d ended up on the floor. He’d started off standing, that much he knew. But he didn’t remember sliding all the way down the wall across from CJ’s door, arms crossed, telling himself he would leave if CJ wasn’t home in the next five minutes.
Five minutes had come and gone a long time ago. Hell, he wasn’t convinced it was the same day anymore.
Now, he was sitting on the carpet with his back braced against the wall, knees pulled up so he could rest his forearms across them. The back of his hoodie was bunched awkwardly at his spine, fabric twisted from the way he’d let himself fall instead of lowering himself carefully.
He knew he was a mess. He could feel his curls flattened on one side where he’d leaned his head against the wall earlier, and the other side stuck up from how many times he’d run his hand through it. His racing pulse was a constant reminder that he had no business waiting for CJ.
At the end of the hall, the elevator chimed and Evan felt his stomach drop.
He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead until CJ turned the corner, then he rolled his head toward him in slow motion.
He had a front-row seat to the split second of shock on CJ’s face before he fixed it into something more controlled. Evan saw it anyway.
“There you are.” Evan’s voice betrayed him, coming out thick and hoarse.
“Evan,” CJ said carefully, keys clenched so tightly in his hand that Evan could see the metal biting into his palm. “What are you doing here?”
Evan’s mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. “There it is,” he murmured. “No ‘hey.’ No ‘are you okay?’ Just straight to logistics.”
CJ closed his eyes and exhaled heavily before he stepped closer. “You’re drunk.”
Evan lifted his hands and gave CJ a slow, exaggerated clap, the sound echoing down the empty hallway.
CJ turned automatically to look down the hallway, likely checking to make sure no one was in their doorway or near the elevators.
The action was so familiar even after so many years that Evan felt something twist in his chest.
“Good job,” Evan said. “Gold star.”
“Why?” CJ asked.
Evan shrugged, shoulders sloppy and loose. “Because sobriety is overrated.”
CJ pinched the bridge of his nose, and Evan was almost positive he muttered a prayer for patience before he stepped closer.
CJ crouched until they were eye to eye. “How much have you had?”
Evan tilted his head back to rest against the wall. “Enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“Enough to stop pretending I don’t care.” The sentence slid off his tongue before he could stop it, and the second the words were out there, Evan felt the heat crawl up his neck.
He squeezed his eyes shut like that might rewind the last five seconds. “Forget it,” he muttered.
He planted a hand against the wall and pushed himself up faster than his balance could handle.
The hallway tilted hard, and Evan went with it, and for a split second, he was weightless as he tipped forward toward the opposite wall.
Then CJ’s hand shot out and caught Evan’s elbow mid-fall, fingers biting into his arm tight enough to bruise as he yanked Evan back upright.
The force of it pulled them together, momentum carrying Evan forward until his palms hit the solid warmth of CJ’s chest.
Cotton bunched under his hands and his fingers flexed against the muscle beneath it. CJ’s breath stuttered, and Evan froze. Their bodies were locked in place with CJ still firmly gripping Evan’s arm and Evan’s fingers splayed wide against his pecs.
“Don’t touch me,” Evan whispered.
Evan knew he should pull out of CJ’s grasp or, at the least, push him away. Instead, he shifted forward, and his hands slid to CJ’s waist as he closed the small space between them until there wasn’t any left. He closed his eyes as CJ’s hand skimmed down his side and around to the small of his back.
Evan’s forehead dipped toward CJ’s shoulder, following a path it had memorized a lifetime ago.
He stayed there, exhaling uneven breaths into the space between CJ’s neck and collarbone.
CJ didn’t say anything, but beneath Evan’s cheek, he could feel the echo of CJ’s heartbeat speeding up, and he waited for CJ to push him away.
But CJ didn’t, and he didn’t loosen his hold either.
Without speaking, CJ’s hand splayed wider against Evan’s back, fingers pressing through the fabric of his hoodie to hold him upright.
Evan’s grip tightened, his knuckles white in the fabric at CJ’s waist, and the part of him that had warned CJ not to touch him disappeared as he let himself melt forward another inch.
The hallway was quiet except for the faint hum of the building’s ventilation system and the dull sound of his pulse pounding in his ears.
“I hate this,” he muttered, the words muffled against CJ’s skin.
“I know,” CJ said softly. “I hate it too.”
His thumb moved once along the line of his spine, and Evan shivered. Another moment passed, then CJ moved his hand from where it rested, but he didn’t step back.
“You need to get inside.” CJ’s voice was low.
“Worried someone’s going to see me?” Evan snorted softly.
CJ’s mouth flattened into a line. “Yes,” he said, too quickly.
His honesty hit harder than Evan had expected and his eyes narrowed as he retreated. “Because that would look bad for you.” He didn’t feel any satisfaction when CJ flinched.
“That’s not what I meant,” CJ said.
“Sure.” Evan leaned his shoulder against the wall to steady himself, then he let himself really look at CJ. “You smell like beer.”
CJ snorted. “You should smell yourself, bud.”
Evan’s jaw tightened. “Who were you out with?”
“I was out with guys from the team.” CJ reached for Evan’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you back to your place.”
Evan jerked away, but he still wasn’t sober enough to be steady. CJ caught him again before he stumbled into the wall.
“I can walk by myself,” Evan said sourly.
“I’m sure you think that.”
Evan didn’t fight it when CJ slid an arm around his waist and guided him to his own apartment three doors down. He fumbled his keys out of his pocket and then dropped them with a curse. CJ bent to pick them up without comment, and he unlocked the door and guided Evan inside.
CJ steered him to the couch, letting him go when he dropped into the corner of the sectional.
“Stay,” he said as he moved toward the kitchen.
Evan let his head tip back against the cushion and stared at the ceiling.
He could hear CJ rummaging around, cabinet doors opening, water running.
Normal sounds that were too loud, and Evan closed his eyes.
The sound of footsteps alerted him to CJ’s return, and he lifted his head to watch him approach.
CJ pressed a cold glass into his hand. “Drink.”
Evan glared at him but obeyed, swallowing a large gulp of water.
“More.” Evan drank again, and CJ held out two pills in his palm. “Take them. You’re going to hate tomorrow anyway. Maybe this will help a little.”
Evan swallowed them dry and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You should go,” Evan said finally. It was the last thing he wanted.
“I’m fine.” CJ sat on the edge of the coffee table across from him.
“Were you with him?”
CJ’s brows knit together. “I was with a bunch of guys from the team.”
“Were you with Rizzo?”
“He was there.”
Evan took another sip of water. “You’re different with him. You laugh more.” He looked at his hands. “Are…? Are you guys dating?”
“Me and Rizzo?” CJ asked with a laugh. “Evan, no.”
“I thought it would help if you guys were dating,” Evan said, continuing as if CJ hadn’t answered him. “I thought if you were with him, maybe I could finally stop.”
“Stop what?”
Evan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
CJ’s voice was soft. “Say it.”
“I thought I could finally stop loving you.”
Evan rubbed a hand across his chest as CJ inhaled sharply. Evan let his head fall back against the couch and continued, the confession gathering momentum now that he’d started.
“It’s been seven years,” he said hoarsely. “Seven years of pretending you didn’t wreck me. Seven years of trying to build something out of what you left behind.”
CJ flinched.
“I turned all of it into discipline and control.” Evan shifted until he was sitting straighter. “I built this whole life out of it. I made myself into something solid and unshakable because I was going to fall apart if I didn’t.”
“Evan—”
“And it doesn’t matter,” Evan said, loudly enough to drown out CJ. “You show up again, and none of it matters. All of the control, all of the work. Fuck all of it, I guess. Because you walked back into my life and now every fucking day hurts more than the one before.”
He looked at CJ. “I hate that you make me feel like this. I hate that you left. I hate that I still—” His voice broke completely when CJ moved to sit beside him on the couch.
CJ kept a space between them, just far enough away that they couldn’t touch. Evan stared at the gap and hated how much he wanted it gone.
“I wasn’t with Rizzo,” CJ said softly. “Not like that.”
Evan squeezed his eyes shut. Relief and humiliation collided in his stomach. “I know,” he muttered. “I know. I’m just—”
“Drunk.”
“Yeah.”
CJ raised a brow. “You’re going to regret saying all this.”
Evan nodded in agreement. “Probably.”
The silence stretched awkwardly between them, but neither of them moved. CJ sat with his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely between them as he stared at the floor, but the distance between them stayed exactly the same.
Evan’s jaw tightened. He stared at the strip of empty cushion between them a second longer, then dragged a hand down his face and shifted. The couch dipped as he slid closer, shrinking the distance between them until his knee brushed CJ’s.
Beside him, CJ froze, but Evan didn’t stop. His hand rose and his fingers brushed CJ’s cheek, then his jaw, and Evan didn’t dare breathe or the moment would shatter.
“Evan,” CJ said, but Evan ignored the warning in his tone.