19. West
west
“YOU BETTER NOT be punking out on us again tonight.” East’s voice filtered through my bedroom door before he pushed it open and strolled inside, a martini glass in one hand and a tumbler with amber-colored liquor in the other.
I glanced up at him from my bed with my computer on my lap and took the drink he offered.
“I didn’t punk out on you. I took a vow of sobriety—”
“To detox that liver of yours. I know. Well, you’ve had your three days, and now it’s time you confess your sins.”
“My sins ?”
East took a sip of his drink. “Did you or did you not try to corrupt a golden boy through gluttony and lust this past weekend?” He smirked, pulled a rosary from his pocket, and started to swing it around his finger.
I knew exactly where he was going with this. I also knew the detox after this night was going to take a lot longer than three days.
“I did.”
“That’s what I thought. And did you or did you not befriend this boy to win a challenge?”
“A challenge you initiated.”
“I know. That’s why it’s time we go to Church.” East raised a haughty brow as he took another sip. “We’ve got a lot of repenting to do.”
I snorted and shook my head. “More like you feel an urge to get down on your knees and—”
“Pray? Yes. I do believe it’s time he heard his name on my tongue again.”
“Jesus—”
“Nope. I believe ‘oh God’ might be the more direct route.”
“Get the hell out of here.” I picked up a pillow and threw it at East’s retreating back as he headed to the door. Then I settled back against my headboard and took another sip of my drink.
The bourbon felt good as it warmed a path down my throat and relaxed my body and mind after spending the last couple of hours catching up on school work. But as I saved the last half of my essay and shut down my computer, East’s idea of going out became more and more appealing.
The few days I’d given myself to recover from our party had done the trick, and now that I was feeling myself again, I was ready to hit the town and see what trouble we could get into. I pushed my laptop aside and drained the rest of my drink, and then an idea sprang to mind.
East had mentioned going to Church to confess my sins, and maybe, just maybe, JT would want to do a little confessing of his own.
God knows he’d certainly apologized to me enough over the last couple of days to indicate he might be in need of a little contrition.
But I wasn’t sure about his stance on the whole Church thing.
Should I or shouldn’t I?
Who the hell was I kidding? I was totally going to ask him. We’d gotten past the kiss debacle. I was back in the friend zone, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t invite him to join us tonight?
I scooped up my phone and opened up a text message to JT.
Hey there, Golden Boy, what are you up to?
I got to my feet and headed into the closet, looking for an appropriate outfit. There was a pretty specific dress code for the congregants of this establishment, and as my eyes trailed over my choices, I grinned to myself, realizing that if JT did show then this might just work out in my favor.
You know, God’s plan and all? Because despite JT’s protests that he wasn’t into the “kissing guys” deal, I remembered the way he’d reacted the first time he spotted me at the party last week.
I’d worn black on black that night, and there’d been a distinct shift in the air as he looked me over.
Not to mention a very intense reaction later that night.
So yes, this could definitely work in my favor— if JT answered my damn text.
I grabbed a black coat, shirt, and pants, and then my phone vibrated.I picked it up, swiped open the message, and shook my head at his response.
Golden Boy:
Hey. Was just getting into bed until my phone went off.
Getting in bed? Seriously?
Golden Boy:
Yes, seriously. It’s 10:30 on a weeknight. What else would I be doing?
I shook my head as I walked into my en suite and flicked on the light.
Do you really want me to answer that? Because I will, in great detail.
I could practically see him frowning at his phone, trying to decide how to answer. I put my cell down on the counter and stripped out of my shirt, and as I tossed it in the laundry basket, my phone vibrated again.
Golden Boy:
Thanks, but I’d rather be spared the nightmares ;)
Ouch… I was just going to say that you should be working on your homework, JT.
Lies. All lies. And he knew it. But hey, two could play at this game, and if he wanted to be “friends” then a friend I would be.
BUT since you’re not doing homework, I have a better idea instead.
Golden Boy:
I’m almost afraid to ask….
Then I’ll spare you the trouble. Get up. Get out of bed. And get dressed.
I shoved my sweats and briefs to the floor and kicked out of them.
Golden Boy:
Ok, bossy much? Clearly I’m up (thanks for that) and not in bed yet. I said I was getting there.
And dressed? Don’t forget that. Are you dressed?
He sent back an eyeroll emoji.
Golden Boy:
I’m up, of course I’m dressed.
I smirked and leaned my bare ass up against the counter.
I’m up too, but I’m completely naked. So I just thought I’d check.
Three dots appeared and then disappeared, and as I let him think about that for a couple of minutes—and yes, it was minutes, not seconds—I turned on the shower.
Finally, a message popped up that had me grinning from ear to ear.
Golden Boy:
Again with the nightmares. Now I need to go and scrub my eyeballs out.
See, great minds think alike. I’m about to take a shower too.
Hmm, think about that a little bit… friend. And when it seemed he was, a little longer than normal, I added—
Then I’m going to get dressed, go downstairs, and head to your dorm.
That got a response.
Golden Boy:
You’re going to what? No, you can’t.
What have I told you about the word “can’t,” JT? It doesn’t exist for me, and since we’re friends, it doesn’t exist for you either. It’s Wednesday night, which means it’s time to go out.
I held my breath for a second, wondering if he’d push back some more, decide to take a stand.
Golden Boy:
That’s what Wednesday night means?
I knew I had him.
That or hump day. I mean, I am naked…
Golden Boy:
Where are we going?
My cock throbbed at knowing I was going to see him tonight, and I reached down to give it a firm squeeze.
Can’t tell you.
Golden Boy:
What are we doing?
Can’t tell you that either. All you need to know is I’ll be there in twenty. Dress up, and in black.
Golden Boy:
Uh…this isn’t a cult, is it?
It’s not a cult. Trust me?
I held my breath and stared at the phone—knowing I didn’t deserve his trust but wanting it all the same. Then his message came through and I blew out a sigh of relief.
Golden Boy:
I trust you. I’ll see you in twenty.
I put my phone down and stepped into the shower, and as the warm water sluiced down over my body, I thought that while I might be going to Church tonight, I had feeling it wasn’t going to do shit to keep me out of hell.