Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Seth
THIS NIGHT WAS ALMOST a disaster. As Jacob slides into the car and sulks in a corner against a window, the adrenaline drains from my body. He has no idea how close he was to causing a crowd crush in that club. Once attention started to swivel to him, a fervor built, like the first few bubbles before a pot boils over.
He’ll never realize that he just flirted with calamity.
The other guys pile into the car, forcing me to scoot over closer to Jacob. I should leave him in their hands since my car is still parked here, but if someone happens to follow this car home, the guys could have issues getting back to their places. My job isn’t yet over tonight.
Is that true, or is that what you’re telling yourself so you can stay with him?
I shut that voice out of my head. Jacob needs someone with him tonight. There’s no denying that. I have to get these guys home. If something happened because I left, it’d be worse than merely failing at my job. Even as the car pulls away from the club, an image of the guy who grabbed Jacob flashes through my head. I watch his hand slide along Jacob’s waist, watch Jacob lean hungrily into the touch, watch Jacob turn his body toward a stranger, always so open and trusting.
I swallow whatever is clogging my throat and shake my head. Jacob is crawling around the big back seat of the car, digging in a mini fridge until he finds a bottle of whiskey. He sits on the floor of the car and cracks it open, then downs the whole thing in one go, amber liquid carving trails down his throat.
I try not to watch, but what I find when I look away is the rest of his band, who shoot concerned glances my way. I clench a sigh behind my teeth. This night is far from over.
“I know,” I say quietly. “I’ll take care of … it.”
I almost said “him” before swapping it for a safer pronoun. Jacob remains on the floor swaying drunkenly the entire way from the club to his apartment building. It’s the first stop, but I get out anyway, waiting by the curb while his bandmates guide him out of the car and into my arms. He stumbles when he attempts to stand, and I catch him before his face can hit the pavement.
“Gonna be okay?” Shawn asks.
I give him a nod. “The rest of you get home safe.”
“We’ll be fine.”
He shoots one more worried glance at Jacob, then apparently decides I’ll make good on my promise and shuts the door. The car pulls away, abandoning me in the sudden silence of an empty street at an ungodly hour of the morning. I dare a look downward.
Jacob is nuzzled against my chest, his arms around me, his eyes closed like he could sleep standing in the middle of the street. I gently reposition him so my arm is around his waist, but he leans heavily against me as we stumble toward the door of his apartment.
“I need your key,” I say.
It both terrifies and thrills me how quickly he hands it over. Terrifies me because if I was someone else, anyone else, I could be taking advantage of him. Thrills me because I’m not anyone else, and part of me knows Jacob realizes that.
I swipe his key to call the elevator. He groans when I get him inside, but I stand in the corner and let him lean against me, his entire body supported by mine. His eyes remain closed, his head resting on my arm. His soft, wavy hair brushes against my skin. I never knew it was so soft. It looks soft, but the feel of it is like feathery down drifting over my skin.
“I just wanted to have a birthday,” he groans.
I don’t respond, but he goes on anyway.
“I wanted to dance. I wanted to have a fun birthday. I used to have fun birthdays. Why can’t I have a birthday like a normal person?”
His words are slurred, his speech slow and repetitive. I shouldn’t bother answering, but I do.
“You aren’t a normal person anymore.”
He groans, burying himself more firmly against my arm. “I wanted to make music. I didn’t want all this stuff. I didn’t want to not have birthdays anymore.”
I’m struggling to find sympathy for the rich, talented, famous musician clinging to me. Very few people get to live their dreams, let alone profit from them the way Jacob will. Still, his distress is real.
“Sometimes we can’t have all the things we want,” I say.
He finally looks up at me then, hazel eyes bright with booze. His gaze is strangely steady, however, steady enough that I stiffen with dread.
“No,” he says, abruptly lucid, “I guess we can’t.”
I look away, mostly because I’m scared he won’t, and that gaze is piercing me down to my soul. If I look too long, Jacob will pry every thought, every secret desire, every unworthy wish right out of my skull. I stare at the wall instead, and hope he didn’t notice.
The elevator bings, letting us out onto a floor that contains only one apartment — his. I help him to the door, but he fumbles while trying to unlock it, and I end up having to do it for him. Shit, he’s not going to be able to take care of himself tonight. I don’t know why I ever believed my job would end at his door, but as he nearly trips over his own feet getting inside, it’s clear my evening has only just begun.
I kick the door shut behind us, my arm still occupied with Jacob, then let him lead the way. He doesn’t bother with the lights as he weaves through his own apartment. We hit a couch, then a counter, but eventually he shoves open a door that leads to his bedroom. I try not to fixate on that fact as I help him to his bed and deposit him on the mattress. He sprawls across it, his hair a beautiful mess, his jacket open to expose the mesh shirt beneath it. He flops there for a moment, then blinks and seems to realize for the first time that I’m standing over him.
“Hey,” he says, a giddy smile stealing across his mouth.
My heart lurches in my chest like a runner committing a false start. That bright, brilliant, easy smile picks at the things clenched inside me like deft fingers opening a lock, and I’m terrified of what they could unleash.
“You need water,” I say.
I turn away before Jacob can object, hurrying out of his room. I struggle to find the kitchen in this big, dark apartment. There’s so much empty space everywhere, as though no one lives here at all. It suddenly feels very lonely with only Jacob in it. I can’t help picturing him here alone day after day, cut off from the rest of the world. He’s isolated for his own safety, yes, but there’s something perverse in that when it applies to a person who attracts others the way he does. Everyone feels the magnetism when he’s near. It isn’t just me. Anyone would succumb to that smile, that easy familiarity. Jacob has a way of making anyone he looks at feel like they’re the only person in the world.
I grope my way along the counter, opening the refrigerator so the light from inside can guide me. Glasses are easy enough to locate, as is the faucet, but there’s one more thing I want, and I use my phone’s flashlight to find it. When I return to the bedroom, I’m carrying not just water, but two ibuprofens as well. He’ll thank me in the morning.
Jacob has curled up on his side in the time since I’ve left him. He’s also tossed aside his jacket and shirt, leaving him bare-chested. I set that knowledge carefully aside as I place the water and medicine on the nightstand next to the bed and sit gingerly on the mattress.
“Hey, can you sit up?”
Jacob groans at me. I sigh inwardly, bracing myself before I roll him gently onto his back. He blinks up at me like he forgot I was here in the span of time while I searched for water and medicine. Then that smile is back.
“You?” he says.
“Me,” I say. “Can you sit up?”
This time, he goes willingly, shuffling up with his back propped against the headboard. I hand him the water and medicine.
“Drink all of it,” I say.
Jacob grumbles but complies, swallowing down the tabs quickly, then pounding back the water. He tips his head back farther and farther as he drinks, water spilling out of the sides of his mouth. Fat drops slink down his throat and spill over his smooth chest. I don’t catch myself watching until the water soaks into the waistband of his pants.
When I drag my eyes up, Jacob is watching me. His smile is quieter this time, sleepier.
“You’re taking care of me again,” he says.
His voice is soft in the dark, raw, real. He’s always himself, even with a million cameras in his face, but he tends to smile for those cameras no matter how he actually feels. This quieter smile, the edge of sadness in his eyes — those are things he doesn’t let the outside world see. Does he think they’ll stop loving him if they see this side of him? If so, he couldn’t be more wrong. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful in my life as this slouched, disheveled, half-naked version of him, this soft, raw version free of all pretense.
“I told you,” I say, voice quiet, “it’s my job.”
“Your job could have ended after shoving me in an elevator,” he says. He hiccups, then evidently swallows something bitter down. “Oh God, I’m a mess tonight. What, you aren’t going to try to make me feel better?”
“I’m here for your safety, not your ego.”
Jacob snorts. “Oh, don’t worry. You’re awful for my ego. The one man I can’t have.”
He doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, tipsy and exhausted as he is, but the words are like a punch to the chest for me. The one man he can’t have. Is he serious? He could have anyone, anyone . Why bother with me?
“You should rest,” I say. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Oh, I seriously doubt that,” he says, but he shuffles down like he’s going to get under the sheets anyway.
I stop him before he gets too far. He’s still got shoes and pants on, and that’s only going to make this worse. He stops his wriggling to let me pry the shoes off, but then come the pants and… They didn’t look this tight when he was bouncing around the club, but when I carefully, delicately unzip them and start pulling them down, they cling to his legs like they’re painted on. I turn my gaze aside, studying a wall instead of looking closer as I peel the garment off him. Jacob doesn’t notice, shuffling right under the sheets and curling himself up in them like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Tomorrow, he’ll hop out of bed, every bit the beautiful butterfly everyone expects. But tonight…
Tonight I can’t possibly leave him. I spy a chair in the corner. I steal a pillow and an extra blanket off the bed, then bundle myself up in the corner, setting my glasses beside the chair and kicking my shoes off but otherwise remaining fully clothed. It’ll be a long, stiff, uncomfortable night, but I’m not abandoning him in his current state.
“Goodnight,” I whisper as I settle in.
His only response is deep, peaceful breathing. I lean back in the chair, watching him across the room until exhaustion overtakes me.