Chapter Sixteen Mateo #2
Lena's in his lap, the same way Jamie's been in mine, though the bench has been replaced by a futon, and I try to tell myself it matters. I watch carefully as she touches him, and feel my blood burn at how thoughtlessly she does it, as though she has before and knows she can again. Wanting to replace her hands with my own keeps me where I am, and Jamie blinks, closer to breathless than I’d like.
His grip on her waist tightens, and I hate how vividly that will feature in my memories, but I take solace in the fact that they're both still clothed—and that he's starting to separate them while staring at me.
She's confused, and more than a little pissed off, her kiss-swollen lips eager to help her pout.
"Who's he?"
"Taylor's right. You should leave."
She stands and smooths the front of shorts too short to need her attention. "Fine, yeah. I'll go see what Bailey's up to. You boys have fun."
"Thanks for letting me in," I say to Taylor just after Lena's disappeared down the stairs.
I don't thank Jamie for anything yet. I'm not convinced he won't throw me out soon, and I'm not sure he's eager to let me talk before that, no matter how far I've traveled for the chance. Taylor seems to have more faith than I do, and his eyes lock with mine.
"You're welcome to stay for as long as Sinclair would like. I'm sure it's been a long day, so I'll make sure nobody bothers you tonight." He holds out his hand. "Give me the keys. I'll get your bag."
I almost remind him I wasn't demanding a place to stay, but then I realize he isn't someone who responds to demands anyway, and I nod.
With the keys in his hand, he lingers, staring down at where Jamie's still sitting without bothering to look at me again.
It feels, oddly, like Taylor's got my back here, and I can't examine that too closely.
It's easier if he remains the villain in this story, at least until I know how it ends.
Then he's gone, the bedroom door closed behind us. I lock it because I'm not Lena.
It was the goal all along, but now I'm left alone with Jamie—really privately alone—for the first time since we shared the bed just in front of me now. He's visibly tired, and more than a little ashamed by whatever I've seen, but he's so fucking gorgeous, and I can't help but tell him so.
He ignores what I've said, and he stands and walks toward me.
I don't have anywhere to go to get away from him, but the trouble I've gone to so far makes it clear I don't want space.
Jamie's wearing a loose tank top and gray sweatpants I've seen before, and it's easy to stare at them before I take another chance on falling for pretty blue eyes.
He pulls the hair tie from my messy bun and drops it on the floor.
When it's down, it's like you've let something go. Like you've stopped caring so much.
I still care about everything, but I don't remind him of that. I haven't even said hello.
"Did he call you?" he asks.
I frown a little and shake my head. Of all the things I'd imagined Jamie saying tonight, that wasn't one of them, though it means I'm invited to answer after being afraid I'd lost my voice.
"No. God, no. Did you think he was pulling another gift basket stunt? Looking for a way to get into your head? Trying to start drama?'"
"It feels pretty fucking dramatic."
"Yeah, and for once, that's on me."
"For once?" Jamie asks. "Getting off while I held your hand wasn't exactly boring."
"That was a while ago. You still think about it?"
"Every damn day. You don't?"
"Every damn day," I say. "But you're the one who surprised me at the door then, and you don't look like you were short a hand to hold tonight."
"If Taylor didn't call you, how'd you know where I was?"
I shrug. "You're not that hard to find. But it's more crowded than last time. That was a surprise."
"I hadn't seen Lena in years, but she and Taylor's sister and a few others showed up yesterday. It's been all beer and boats. Lots of music. Less clothing—"
"More sex," I finish.
"Not for me. Not yet. But I guess tonight was a sure thing until you showed up."
"Well, you brought her up here. That's about as sure as you can be."
"I asked her if she'd like to go down to the dock while others were busy with the fire pit, but either she's not into semi-public sex, or she thinks I'm not."
"Right," I say. "Plus, you have a perfectly good futon here, and it would've been a shame not to take advantage of that."
"It made me feel like I was nineteen again, taking a girl back to my dorm room."
"You didn't go to college."
"Maybe I missed out," he spits. "You're not here for the futon, though. And you've already been quiet too long if you were here to break some sort of terrible news. So, what exactly made you blow a chunk of your savings on a trip like this?"
For a second, I’m terrified he’ll offer to pay me back, and I swallow my preemptive fury before ignoring his question and asking mine.
"Who is she to you? Lena?"
Jamie laughs humorlessly. "She's nobody. They're all nobody. But what about Logan? Did you leave him home all alone?"
"Fuck you."
"I mean, I can't stop you from camping with him for the rest of your life, right? We gave up on each other."
"No," I growl. It's quiet, but I fucking growl. "You gave up on me. At my grandmother's funeral, all I said was that I didn't know what we were waiting for, and you walked away and decided we weren't waiting for anything."
"Where the fuck else was I supposed to go? Did you really want me to follow you to the reception? Should I have been waiting at your apartment for another slow dance before leaving you again? I don't know what else you wanted from me if being there wasn't enough."
"I didn't want to be so easy to give up on," I say. "It's always been hockey. It will always be hockey. But you left that day, and it was the first time I felt like maybe it wasn't me at all."
Frustrated, Jamie grabs his hair with both hands, and I wish he'd get that rough with mine. "Do you even hear yourself? You're telling me it's all about hockey and maybe not about you, but I left them for you that day. I chose you."
"That day," I echo. "And there's been nothing but distance between us since."
"So that's why you're here? To be close to me while we finish an argument we started eight months ago? Or did you want to show me you chose me over your adorably boring life?"
I'd told Sophie I was chasing proof that someone loves me, but I've always had that and didn't need to be standing in front of Jamie to know it's still true.
Whatever else happens tonight, we're going to love each other for the rest of our lives, because the pull of the ocean and the promise of the stars won't let us go.
It's relief and torture all in one, and all I can think about now is how to make both feelings bigger than they already are.
"Lena is nobody."
"Yeah," Jamie says.
"The other women—the ones from the pictures—they were nobody."
He doesn't say something as quickly this time, wary about the accusations I could throw at him as if I've ever called him a whore.
I try to make it better when I catch the hem of his tank top and tether myself to him, but my fist around the fabric isn't kind.
His response is to scrape his fingernail against the band letters on the front of my t-shirt, the touch as casual as it is arousing, and it's not going to be enough for much longer.
Jamie's gaze doesn't meet mine. Not then. "Everyone has been nobody. Everyone except—"
"No," I interrupt, my voice loud and low. "Don't say it."
"You don't believe me?"
Our breathing has synced, but nothing about it is peaceful.
I'm angrier than I have any right to be when I'm the uninvited guest, and I harness it instead of letting it go.
The longer I take to speak, the more Jamie gets desperate for it, and I don't think I'm playing a game with him, even when I'm rewarded with a shaky plea for something. Anything.
He could be playing a game with me. I'm shaking just as much as he is.
"I believe you just fine, but it's not—" I don't mean to demand eye contact by trailing off like that, but when I take several seconds to keep talking, black ice stares me down and leaves me with goosebumps that make me a liar.
I let go of his shirt and knock his finger away from where it's touching mine, only to palm his dick roughly over his sweatpants.
He's half hard and still vibrating with unfinished conversations that won't end tonight, and I exhale against his ear. "Is this for her or for me?"
It's for both of us, I think, but as much as I need that to be true, my impatience won't hold for an answer.
I claw at his clothes, from his tank top to his sweatpants and back again.
Jamie's pissed off and confused and so goddamn eager to touch me as much as he can, so he doesn't hesitate to fight back, my chest completely bare before I can figure out how it happened.
He's working at my jeans now, unconcerned about a house full of people who will wonder why Lena was sent downstairs, and I'm frantic when he reminds me I'd asked him a question.
"She's nobody," Jamie hisses. "I fucking told you, you're the only—"
I cut him off with a brutal kiss, so unlike anything we've shared before, and I pull back just to fight again. "Please. Forget who I am. Just for tonight—just with you—I want—"
"To be nobody, too."
He understands. I don't need to explain because he understands.
I don't need to explain because, once upon a time, in his best friend's bar, he wanted to be nobody, and the same anonymity that shielded us through sunrise is what's damned us ever since.
I don't need to explain because he's ready to wield anonymity as a weapon now, just as surely as I am.
We'll be devastated by morning, but at least we'll have this first.