Chapter Travis
Travis
Why am I here? I swear, I have to learn to say no. Well, say no and stick to it. I always say no, but Oakley is a pain in the ass.
All week long, he’s been talking about the party Jameson and Garrison are having tonight and how I have to go.
And here I am. Another Friday night with Oakley Easton.
I push through the wooden gate to the backyard, already hearing the music. It’s chilly tonight, so I’m wearing a hoodie and jeans as I approach the new firepit. And okay, I have to admit, it’s pretty cool. Garrison and Oakley did a good job.
A gravel path leads all the way to a circle of gravel that’s smoothed-out. That gravel is outlined by larger rocks, and a rustic-looking firepit sits in the middle with wooden chairs around it.
Somehow, they managed to recreate the old party spot at the Eastons’ in Jameson and Dixon’s backyard. It’s nice, but I don’t say anything about it as I’m greeted by Garrison, J, and Oakley. Oakley, though, can’t stand it for very long. “Well?”
“Well what?” I ask, settling into one of the chairs.
“Oh, come on. This is badass!” he says in exasperation, and Garrison and Jameson laugh.
“It’s very nice, Oakley,” I humor him.
“Very nice?” He looks horrified, and I can’t fight back the smile battling to be on my face right now. “No. It’s not nice, Trav. It’s badass. Glorious. It could be a damn picture on Pinterest because, let’s face it, it’s even better than the one I used to create it.”
Jameson, Garrison, and I are cracking up now. When I finally get my hilarity under control, I huff, “Fine. It’s badass.”
He settles back in his chair, giving a firm nod. “Damn straight.”
“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Jameson laughs and then gets up to greet more guests. I recognize some guys from work, as well as a couple of people from high school, who must have made the drive because last I heard, they were still living in Kensley.
Garrison grills, and we have dinner before turning up the music, and then the keg comes out. I decide to go ahead and have a beer, since I didn’t the other night when we were in Kensley, and it’s been a long week.
My body is worn-out from the week at work, cleaning out flowerbeds and prepping them to be ready for the frost that’s coming soon. I decide to pour myself another beer when Oakley sits his ass down next to me, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.
“You want something stronger?”
“No thanks,” I say, taking a sip of my beer.
“Well, at least you’re having a beer,” he says like it’s amazing.
“Yes, because it’s oh-so-important.”
“It is.” He looks so serious, I nearly laugh. “We work hard, so we should play hard too. Them’s the rules.”
I take another sip of my beer, not reminding him we’re still technically underage and should probably be having sodas instead of beer. Hell, the country says we’re adults, and yet we can’t make the decision whether to get shitfaced or not. Seems crazy to me.
And oh my God, I sound like Oakley.
This is not good.
I sit my cup in the cupholder on the chair. “We hang out way too much.”
His brow furrows as he takes a swig of whiskey. “What? No way.”
“Yes way. I’m starting to think like you,” I say as he takes another swig. I can’t stop my eyes from watching his throat work and his Adam’s apple move up and down with the motion.
“No way you’re thinking like me, or you’d be doing your best to get laid tonight. Maybe you’d have invited that guy from your phone to start working on that.”
“Oh my God.” I lean my head back against the chair. “You have to stop.”
“Nope.” He takes another drink, and so do I. I’m still not sure why he’s so set on getting me laid. I think back to last Friday when Brianna was doing her best to get him to go home with her.
I don’t get why he turned her down. It’s no secret they had a thing in high school.
I mean, Oakley had a lot of things going in high school, but still, she was one of them.
I also don’t know why it annoyed me so much watching her flip her hair and bite her bottom lip, trying her best to lure him away.
I take another drink, this time slower, as I think that over. My phone beeps in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing a message from Ryan asking me what I’m up to tonight.
“You should tell him to come by.”
“Goddammit, Oakley.” I shove his bigass shoulder as he leans over, looking at my phone.
“What?” he laughs, tossing back more whiskey with a grin on his face. “I’m just saying. You obviously like him. Why not invite him?” He motions around the party, holding his cup in his hand. “No one here is going to say a damn thing. And I’ve got your back if they do.”
I take another swig from my cup and shake my head, still staring at my phone. “I don’t need backup and no.”
“You’re a stubborn son of a bitch.”
“No denying that.” I take another drink and finish off my beer.
Oakley stands up, grabbing my cup. “Fine. Refills then. We’re drinking tonight, you all!” he shouts on his way to the keg.
Others join in, hollering excitedly, like drinking tonight was ever not an option for most of them.
Four beers later, and I’m feeling pretty damn tipsy. Oakley isn’t fairing any better, even though he switched to beer at some point. The party is winding down, though, and all I want is to crash in a nice warm bed. “Come on, Travis.” Oakley’s beefy arm falls over my shoulders. “I’ll take you home.”
“Yeah, you planning to carry me all the way there? Because there’s no way in hell you’re getting behind the wheel.”
He studies me for a minute. I can’t believe that came out of my mouth, knowing the big oaf is considering it.
“Don’t touch me, Oakley.”
He chuckles and then starts leading me out of the backyard. “See you fuckers tomorrow!” he shouts at Jameson, Garrison, and a few other stragglers. “Epic fucking party.” He finishes off his beer and tosses it into a big trashcan as we head out of the backyard.
I have no idea where we’re going, but we’re both too trashed to drive. I know that much, and I’m grateful I at least have enough of my wits to not drink and drive.
When we get to Oakley’s house, he pushes the door open and then motions for me to join him. “You don’t lock your house?”
He shrugs. “I was right next door.”
I sigh and walk inside as he flips the light on in his living room. It’s actually pretty nice. I mean, it’s not what I expected, which I guess would be a large flatscreen TV and a recliner with Cheetos crumbs spread all around.
There is a flatscreen TV mounted on the wall and a recliner—two actually—but there’s also a nice, comfortable-looking couch and a coffee table. A few framed pictures hang on the walls, as well.
“Not too shabby, huh?”
My eyes are bleary, and I’m fucking drained at this point, so I just nod instead of giving him shit.
“Come on, Trav. I’m beat.”
“Where exactly are we going?” I ask but my feet are already following him after he locks the front door and flips off the light.
“This way.” We head down a hallway with a nightlight plugged into the wall to guide our way. He pushes a door open and flicks on another light. There’s a king-sized bed in the room, along with a dresser and another television mounted to the wall. But that’s about it.
“I’m not staying in here.”
He shakes his head at me, stripping his t-shirt off over his head, leaving me to stare stupidly at his sculpted from granite body. Jesus Christ. He’s buff as fuck. Not one muscle isn’t fully defined.
He starts to unbutton his jeans which startles me out of my drooling stupor. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Relax, Wyatt.”
“Travis,” I correct even in my drunkenness which I’m starting to seriously feel now, swaying on my feet a little as I stand near the door.
“You’ve seen me naked God knows how many times. I’m not sleeping in my jeans.”
He pushes them down his thick hairy thighs, and I look at the bed again, trying to not look at his body. Unfortunately, that focuses me on the fact that I’m in his bedroom.
When he kicks off his jeans and his hands go to the waist of his briefs, I stop him. “This is different. This isn’t the locker room. Leave them on.”
He rolls his eyes but complies, walking to his bed and pulling the comforter and sheet down. My eyes are glued to his firm ass clinging to his bright-blue briefs. I have to stop staring, and I need to move.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I blurt out.
He climbs under the covers. “Don’t be such a baby. Just get in bed. I know you’re tired, and the couch is too small.”
Maybe for his bigass body, but I’d fit okay. Still, I don’t want to think about his body, and my eyes are starting to droop. “Fine.”
I kick my shoes off but leave everything else on, turning the light off before lying on the very edge of my side of the bed.
“You’re fucking ridiculous, you know that?” he grumbles. “Sleeping in your clothes.”
“You aren’t getting me naked, Oakley. Just drop it.”
He chuckles, but then seconds later, he’s snoring away. Completely content.
That fucker.
I’m anything but content as I lie there, stiff as a board on my back, trying not to think about the warm body and the soft snores next to me.