Chapter 3
Jesse
I wake up in a pool of my own vomit.
Even by my standards, that’s low.
I groan, my head pounding and my body shivering as I try and swallow. My throat feels like sandpaper and my tongue tastes like three-day-old hamburger. The cold puke is all down my front and on the carpet, but at least I didn’t choke on it, I guess?
Fuck, my head is killing me. The sunlight is too bright even though the blinds are closed.
I just want to curl back into a ball and disappear again, but the slightest movement reminds me of the cracked ribs I earned last night.
I whimper, feeling extremely sorry for myself.
Between that and the painful hammering in my skull, I’m not going to get back to sleep now anyway.
Actually…is there hammering outside of my skull as well? Is some asshole doing DIY on a Sunday morning? I blink and try and listen over the ringing in my ears. Maybe it’s not hammering but banging…on my door.
Someone’s calling my name.
“Go away,” I slur, my face still mashed against the floor. I can’t think of anyone else it could be other than my landlord, and I don’t have any money to pay rent, so he’s wasting his time as well as pissing me off. “Leave me alone,” I beg, too quiet for anyone else to hear but myself.
But the pounding doesn’t stop. In fact, it gets louder and more intense, only making my head hurt worse. Nausea washes through me and I heave up another round of bile, tears leaking from my eyes as my ribs protest big time.
“Fuck OFF!” I scream, feeling like I’m breathing fire. A fresh wave of misery and humiliation crashes through me.
I’m so useless, I can’t even end myself properly. There’s a chance I’ll be glad of that later. Right now, though, it just seems like I’m adding insult to injury. A laugh bubbles out of me despite the pain in my side. What if my one true talent is failing at absolutely fucking everything?
No wonder my folks pretend like I don’t exist. I bet they’d have been relieved if I’d never woken up this morning. Adam would probably have been sad, but—
Oh…no. Adam.
I peer blearily through my crunchy eyelashes, looking for my phone, half a memory surfacing of a rambling voice mail. I called him, didn’t I? Fuck. Is that him at the door? That would make sense.
Except…it wouldn’t. He moved. Far away. I never see him anymore. That’s most likely a blessing for him, but I do miss having my big brother around. He’s the closest thing I’ve got to a friend these days. How pathetic is that?
The banging stops and I exhale in relief.
Only for a second, though. Because then I hear a terrible splintering sound.
“Jesse?” someone yells frantically.
From inside the apartment.
I wince. They’ve broken in. Well, good luck robbing me, there isn’t anything worth anything. I checked. But why would a burglar know my name? And it isn’t my landlord. He has some kind of Eastern European accent, and this guy is definitely American.
“I told you to fuck off,” I mumble with as much indignation as I can muster. But all that does is tell my intruder where I am.
“Jesse? Oh, shit!” Feet come running into view and someone crouches down, grabbing my shoulder and gently cradling my face despite the sick smeared all over it.
It’s typical that I’ve never looked worse in my whole life and this stranger is one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen. My poor stomach has nothing left to give, but it still swoops as beautiful brown eyes peer down at me in concern.
“Are you an angel?” I utter, wondering if I actually did finish the job and this perfect vision of a man is here to escort me to the afterlife. I doubt I’d be going to heaven, but that seems like the most plausible explanation for him being here at this point. He’s clearly divine.
“Fucking hell, Jesse,” the angel mutters with a grimace. “You’ve really done it this time. I’m calling an ambulance.”
“NO!” I cry, jerking up and grabbing a fistful of his T-shirt, getting slime on it. But that also angers my ribs, and I double over, using one hand to hold myself as well as my intruder. “No ambulance,” I implore him.
“You need help,” the angel says, frowning, but I shake my head, even though that makes me feel worse.
“’Mfine. No insurance.” I don’t need an X-ray to know I’ve had the snot kicked out of me. There’s nothing they could do for cracked ribs anyway, so I’m not getting thousands of dollars into debt only to be told to rest up. “No ambulance. Water.”
The angel doesn’t look happy, but he isn’t getting his phone out, either. “Okay. I’ll hold off for now. But will you let me clean you up?”
As much as I want the angel to stay, this is weird. “Go away. Don’t need…’m fine. No help.”
The angel really scowls now. I don’t like it. He should leave. “You’re not fine, Jesse.”
A thought manages to cut through my brain fog. “How’d you know m’ name?”
He blinks at me, and it’s possible a look of hurt flashes across his face. But I’m barely conscious, so there’s a good chance it was just my imagination. “It’s Rico, Jesse. Enrico Flores. Your brother sent me.”
“Adam?” I ask. I don’t know why. It’s not like I have another brother he could be talking about.
But hearing that he’s still looking out for me even from the other side of the world overwhelms me, and a sob escapes my chest. “I’m sorry,” I blubber as more tears spill down my cheeks. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
The angel’s face softens again. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you in the shower.”
Something about the way he says the word ‘kid’ sparks a memory.
It’s warm and comforting, making me want to lean into him as he very carefully hauls my ass off the floor and coaxes me toward the bathroom.
I haven’t even mentioned the pain I’m in, but he’s automatically accommodating for it.
Clinging to him feels right, like I know he’ll keep me safe.
That’s ridiculous. No one’s ever kept me safe.
But this guy…my angel…Rico.
Enrico Flores.
A brain cell fires. Oh fuck.
My brother’s best friend? The guy I had the most enormous puppy-dog crush on? The one I was convinced I’d work up the courage to hit on once I got rich and famous but never did?
And now he’s found me like this.
It’s actually kind of remarkable how low my dignity keeps sinking. It’s got to be several points below zero by now, surely.
“I can do it,” I protest weakly. “You should go.”
But seeing as Rico has to seat me on the closed toilet lid because my legs are too unstable to keep me standing, I think we both know that’s a lie.
My mind is still such a mess, though, and I’m struggling to hold onto a train of thought.
Unfortunately, my shame is like a prickly porcupine, trying to surround myself with spikes to maintain an illusion that I can defend myself.
“Fuck off!” I do my best to shove his shoulder. “Nobody asked you to come here.”
He gives me an impatient look that cuts through even my inebriated state.
“Your brother literally asked me to come here and check on your sorry ass because he was worried sick about you. In fact…” He pulls his phone out and quickly swipes out a message with just his thumb.
His other hand is keeping me steady on the damn toilet.
“Okay, I’ve told him you’re not dead. Now stop being a brat and let me help you.
These clothes stink. You’ll feel better after a shower. ”
The fight blows out of me as quickly as it arrived. I sniffle again, feeling absolutely wretched. “Water?” I mumble hopefully. My mouth still tastes like roadkill and I’m sure my breath must be as bad.
“Bear with me, kid,” Rico says softly, slowly pulling my soiled T-shirt over my head.
I lift my arms obediently to help him, trying not to cry out as I jostle my ribs.
He doesn’t comment but he must have figured it out by now.
From what I can see of myself, the bruises across my torso are truly breathtaking.
“I’m going to sit you in the shower first. I think you’ll want to rinse your mouth out a few times before swallowing, and that’ll be easier in there. ”
I don’t have a tub, only a walk-in shower just about big enough for me to stand in. I’m relieved he suggested sitting because my legs still aren’t cooperating. The trouble is, there isn’t much room to maneuver. I guess he’s realizing this as he looks between me and the cramped space and sighs.
But he doesn’t give up.
Instead, he methodically strips me down until I’m naked. As I’ve only got jeans and socks left on, it doesn’t take long. I assume I kicked my shoes off somewhere when I got home earlier, but I have no memory of that.
I’m too tired to feel embarrassed that I’m completely exposed in front of my teenage crush who, incidentally, has only gotten hotter in the decade or so since we’ve seen each other.
Bastard. I have just enough wits about me to be compliant as he hefts me into his arms, trying my best to take some of my own weight as we step into the shower cubicle.
He gently sets me down in the corner on the cold tiles but doesn’t turn on the water. “One second,” he tells me before hopping out. I shiver on the floor, my eyelids dropping. Even though I’m hurting all over, I’m getting sleepy again.
Before I can nod off, though, Rico is back, stripped down to his boxer briefs and carrying a bottle of water into the shower with him.
That must be his. I don’t waste money on bottles when the faucet is perfectly fine.
But I guess a glass isn’t a very good idea in here, and I make myself just be grateful that he’s the kind of guy that walks around with fresh bottled spring water.
I’m almost too mesmerized by his body to do anything else but stare at him for several seconds. I don’t get or care why he’s almost as naked as me, but I soon realize that while I’m ogling, he’s reaching to turn the water on.
Oh. Wow. He’s not just leaving me in here to wash off. He’s getting in with me.
I…I don’t know where to put those feelings.