CHAPTER 6 #3
“And is…still Jamie,” I add with an awkward smile when I’m left facing Chris’ befuddled face.
His eyes narrow at Jamie like he’s piecing things together. When he looks back at me this time, it feels like I just got put on his dinner menu again.
“I’d love a ride.”
I stand stock still, trying not to cum in my pants as I watch him turn on his heel and start toward my car. Chris, Jamie, and I all together in public, with Chris about to get in my car. Is this real?
“Rem,” Jamie whines next to my passenger door, arms hugging himself. “Unlock the car, will you? It’s freezing here.”
Right. I can’t just stand here having an out-of-body experience while his delicate California coast self and my ex-crush are waiting. Raising my key fob, I aim at my car and hit the unlock button on the remote. It chirps just as Chris approaches Jamie.
He reaches across Jamie for the passenger door handle. I watch my friend’s face morph into shock like someone just brought another cat into his home.
“Hey! Shotgun,” he demands, shuffling forward like he’s going to slip in through the now open door.
One of Chris’ big palms covers his face, though, pushing him away and making me nearly swallow my tongue on a delirious laugh as Jamie rears back from the unexpected move.
Chris uses the opportunity to angle his big body in between Jamie and the opening, plopping down inside.
His hungry gaze latches onto me again as he closes the door.
I snap my mouth shut when Jamie looks at me and huffs, "If he fucking calls me Pajamies again, we're kicking his ass out while the vehicle's moving." Grumbling, he wrenches the back door open and folds himself inside like a pouting, overgrown child.
Jesus, what am I getting myself into?
As soon as I get behind the steering wheel and shut my door, the tension is evident. I’m partly to blame, unable to avoid noticing how Chris’ knees touch the dashboard of my car. His thick thighs are spread to accommodate his size. I haven’t felt thighs like that since…well, since his.
Pressing the ignition button, I don’t need to look over at him to know he’s watching me with that same loaded look from earlier.
I want it to mean what I think it means and to follow Jamie’s ridiculous advice.
Except, I don’t just want one night of sex.
I want…to talk. I want to hear about his life.
I want to see his easy smile again and wonder if fifteen-years-later me can still be the cause of it.
I’ll need to get his number if I plan to do that, but I don’t have the guts to ask for it in front of Jamie.
“Okay, I didn’t flee California to drive around all night,” Jamie drawls from the backseat. “Where are we taking you, Your Royal Highness? I’ve got a date with Remy’s spare room, which has the supreme luxury of being devoid of the sound of any of my nephews, and I plan to enjoy the shit out of it.”
He gave me an out earlier. I know that’s not what he’s trying to do now, but I see a new one and take it.
“Um, I can drop you at the house first,” I suggest as though I’m being a considerate friend without any selfish motives. “Is your place far, Chris?”
“Very far.”
Why did I look at him? Wrong move. That is definitely eye-fucking.
I hope Jamie didn’t hear the little noise that just squeaked out of my throat. I nod and shift into drive.
“Let me guess,” Jamie mutters. “It’s in the Cockholm neighborhood.”
Gritting my teeth, I apply more pressure to the accelerator. I need to drop my friend off at my house as soon as possible. It’s the right thing to do. Clearly, he needs some sleep to get over his grumpiness and jet lag.
The silence in the car has my nerves skittering. I have Chris Mightener in my car. We both have our clothes on. I’m a grown-ass man, not some starry-eyed college kid. I can do this.
“Do you think you’ll come back to the center for another treatment? There are other things we can try if the TENS therapy doesn’t work well enough.”
“Feeling adventurous?” he smirks, and my heart flips over in my chest at the suggestiveness of the comment.
“Just north of Dickadilly,” Jamie wagers, mumbling a new unhelpful zing about Chris’ address.
If Chris heard him, he doesn’t show it. His attention, solely focused on sending me unspoken signals with his eyes.
“Um…there’s another electrical stimulation method that uses steroid treatment—iontophoresis.”
“I don’t like drugs,” he clips, jaw ticking as he shifts his attention to the windshield.
Shit. Why do I feel like I touched a nerve? I was just trying to be helpful, but I guess he didn’t ask me to solve his medical problems.
Glancing over, I catch him doing the same. His fists unclench on his thighs as his gaze rakes up my legs.
“What other kinds of stimulation do you do?”
Jamie groans from the backseat. It’s a splash of cold water to the heat creeping into my mid-section. He adopts his best impression of a sat nav narrator. “Turn left at Uranus, Missouri.”
“Heat. Ice. Light therapy. Exercises,” I blurt out as though it will erase my obnoxious friend’s commentary from my car. “Massage.”
“You give massages?” Chris raises a brow, sounding intrigued.
“S-sometimes. If…if the person needs it.”
“Welcome to Sphinctershire! You have reached your destination!” My ex-best friend mumbles from the backseat like he’s talking to himself, because at this point, he is.
I see my house up ahead and gun it only to have to slam on the brakes a few seconds later.
“O-kay! We’re here!” I feel a sliver of guilt over how that sounds like ‘get the fuck out of my car right now,’ so I tone it down as I unclip my house key from my keychain and hand it to Jamie. “I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Snatching it from my hand, he leans forward between the front seats. Without looking at either of us, he delivers a monotone, “I expect you alive and present for breakfast.” Glancing at Chris, he adds, “Goodnight, Kermit.”
Fucking hell. I need a new friend. Leaning my head back against the seat rest, I close my eyes until I hear him get out. When the door slams shut, I let out a sigh and shift back into drive.
“He hasn’t changed,” Chris says dryly.
“Not one bit.”
Look at us. Agreeing on things already. He stays quiet after that, and I realize I don’t know where I’m going yet.
“Um, so, where is your house?”
He directs me to turn left twice and then stay on the new street until he says otherwise.
Offhandedly, I realize this will send us back in the direction we just came from, but the silence that follows doesn’t let me dwell on it.
I’ll find out soon enough where he lives, and then this peculiar encounter will be over.
“Do you ever think about college?” he suddenly asks quietly.
“No,” I blurt insistently, but cover it up by clearing my throat. “Er, sometimes.” When he doesn’t respond, my nervous energy shifts to rambling. “My mom actually sent me a box of my old stuff the other day. There was this mug in there that I think Jamie stole from the Sunshine Diner.”
“I remember that place.”
“Yeah.” I laugh for some reason, but a twinge of regret reminds me that Chris and I never went there together.
“Um, the box had an old photo album in it. That brought back a few memories.” I fidget in my seat, wondering if he’s being unusually quiet or if I just have no concept of time at the moment.
“There was one from when I was packing up my room to leave after the semester we all graduated.”
Shit. Why am I telling him this? Glancing over, I see him look away like he’s uncomfortable.
Here I am being all hung up on my own memories when he has an entire set of his own.
I suppose that time in our lives isn’t an easy one for him to remember.
It wasn’t long after that his dreams were upended.
“I…tried to call you after your accident. I heard about it on the news. I mean, I’m sure everyone did.
” God, that’s probably not a comforting thing to say.
“Anyway, I just meant, I called and left you a message to see if you were okay or…or if there was anything I could do, but…I’m sure you had a lot to deal with.
” I adjust my grip on the steering wheel, feeling like I’ve both said too much and yet not enough.
“I’m sorry about what happened to you. That must have been horrible. ”
We go a full block in silence. I want to pull over and bang my head against my dashboard.
“You called?”
“Uh…yeah. Or…sent a text. Or both.” Holy shit. Shut up, Remy. “I don’t remember,” I mumble, begging my mouth to stop speaking.
“I didn’t get anything.”
“Oh? Um, well, I did. I was worried about you. I mean… I felt bad.”
The upholstery on his seat creaks, and I feel him shift. There’s curiosity in his eyes when I glance over at him.
“Why?”
“Because…” Because I was over the moon for you? “Because I… I don’t know.”
He shifts his attention back to the road, and it feels like I lost something. Why wouldn’t I feel bad for him? Why wouldn’t anyone?
“Nobody called.” The admission surprises me as much as the fact that he answered at all.
“I got a few cards. One from my high school coach. I don’t think anybody felt bad for a guy who got so drunk he almost killed himself and could have taken out a family of four.
” The naked honesty bubbles up a well of pity in my chest. “Can’t say I blame them. I wouldn’t have blamed you either.”
I’m glad that he realized the severity of his poor decision, but people make mistakes, especially when they’re young. As long as they learn from them, that’s what matters. I don’t think an error in judgment should strike them from receiving compassion when they probably needed it the most.
Frowning, I assure him, “Well…I did,” but judging by his following silence, I can see that he has nothing further to say on the matter. “Anyway,” I blow out a breath, hoping it will take the heaviness out of the air for both of us. “Um…where am I going?”