The To-Do List (Liberty Heights U #2)

Chapter 1

“I’m not moving in with you next year,” Jacob announced.

Felix choked on his beer. Then he wiped the spill off his chin and sucked his fingers, because he’d paid full price for this beer and wasn’t about to let it go to waste. And because he knew it was guaranteed to get a reaction out of Jacob, which was the main reason Felix did anything.

“You mean this year,” Felix said, grinning at Jacob’s disgusted expression.

“At the end of the school year,” Jacob replied, narrowing his eyes as Felix wiped his sticky hands on his jeans. “I’m not doing it, Mess.”

Mess was short for Felix’s last name, Messer.

Jacob had given Felix the nickname in grade school, but he only pulled it out when Felix was being particularly obnoxious.

Or the rarer times when Jacob wanted to be openly affectionate.

Like right now, while Jacob’s glare softened with genuine regret.

Nobody would have been able to spot that softness except Felix.

Felix groaned, shaking Jacob’s shoulder so hard Jacob had to put his beer down. “Come oooon!”

“No,” Jacob snapped, grabbing a napkin to wipe up the spill on the bar that Felix had caused by jostling his shoulder. “We’d kill each other! We almost kill each other now, and we live in different dorms—oh, thank you very much.”

Jacob directed the last part at the bartender who had taken over his napkin-mopping with a cloth.

He was an incredibly sweet guy, Jacob. It baffled everyone, depending on whom they met first—Jacob alone, or Jacob-with-Felix.

People who met Jacob alone thought he was a serious, mild-mannered stats major who wore a pocket protector unironically.

People who met Jacob-with-Felix first thought he was a loud, snappish guy who loved to argue.

Both were true. People contained multitudes, as Felix liked to tell classmates who expressed surprise at the switch.

Except Felix, of course. He did his absolute best to portray himself as a one-dimensional sexy goofball, and foiled any attempt to glimpse past that.

“But this was always the plan,” Felix said, grabbing Jacob around his shoulders, which was a high reach even when they were sitting down. “Get the hell out of Pennsylvania. Go to Liberty Heights in the glistening city of Indianapolis—”

“Glistening?” Jacob repeated, looking around the dingy surroundings of The Last Call bar, a short walk from Liberty Heights campus.

Felix ignored him. “And then move in together! Best friends for life!”

Jacob sighed. Felix allowed himself a rare moment to enjoy the broad stretch of Jacob’s shoulder under his arm, which was always risky business.

He’d been appreciating Jacob’s tall, dark form long before he was tall.

But he couldn’t let himself get caught up in it, no matter how much he wanted to. Jacob was off-limits.

“I’m going to be your friend until we die,” Jacob said. “But if I move in with you, that’s going to be six months from now. Because I’ll strangle you to death after you forget to do your chores again.”

“I can do a chore chart,” Felix whined.

“I’ve seen you try to mop your parents’ bathroom,” Jacob said. “Even if you try to clean, you suck.”

Felix moved past the obvious blowjob pun—he did suck, often and expertly—and insisted. “I can learn! I’ll watch so many YouTube tutorials!”

“It’s not just the cleaning,” Jacob said. “You can’t cook. You’re not house-trained. Your nickname is Mess, for fuck’s sake!”

“Then give me another nickname,” Felix cried. “Wait, you said we. When WE die.”

Jacob frowned. He had a beautiful frown, his forehead creases denting into wrinkles that no twenty-year old should have, his dark eyes fixing on Felix. Felix wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt.

“Obviously I’d kill myself after I murder you,” Jacob said impatiently.

“Aw,” Felix crooned. “Jacob! You’re so sweet.”

He reached for Jacob’s cheek. Before he could pinch it, Jacob slapped him away. Felix pretended to be stung, but he’d expected it. Jacob only let him pinch his cheek when he was incredibly drunk or happy, and right now he was neither.

Felix settled back into his seat, cradling his damp beer glass. “You just wait, man. We have one whooole semester left for me to convince you. We’ll be watching cartoons in our pj’s in October.”

“Good luck with that,” Jacob muttered. “You can move in with Shane and Nate. No way they’ll be able to find a one-bedroom, they’ll have to get roommates.”

“I don’t want to move in with Shane and Nate,” Felix complained. “Have you seen them lately? I know I told them to get over themselves and date already, but I kind of wish I hadn’t! They’re unbearable!”

“Well, you’d better get used to them.” Jacob took a large sip of his beer, then made a face. Which made sense, because he hated beer.

Felix eyed Jacob’s almost-empty glass curiously.

It wasn’t the only sign that something was wrong—Jacob never suggested they go down to The Last Call, even on Thirsty Thursday.

And he kept looking around like he was worried someone would overhear, even though it was crowded and they had to raise their voices to hear each other, let alone anybody else.

“You’re jumpy tonight,” Felix said.

“What? Fuck off. You’re jumpy tonight.” Jacob took another mouthful of beer, then shuddered. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

Felix waited. Despite what everyone thought, he did know when to shut up sometimes. Especially when it involved staring pointedly at Jacob until he broke. After several seconds of silence he even started batting his eyelashes.

“Quit it,” Jacob scowled. He downed the rest of his beer and slammed it back on the counter with a force that made Felix actually worried for the first time tonight.

Felix nudged him. “Seriously. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Jacob said, too fast. He gave Felix’s hands a distracted look. “Your hands look like shit. Have you been using your cream?”

Felix shook his head.

Jacob sighed, reaching into his pocket, and brought out a small tube of hand cream he carried around all winter. Felix’s hands chapped in the cold.

Felix held out his hands. “Put it on for me? I never do it right.”

“You’re such a baby,” Jacob muttered. But he rubbed the skin cream in, quickly and efficiently, before shoving Felix’s hands back at him. “Use your damn cream. It’s right on your nightstand, just work it into your morning routine!”

“I’m on it,” Felix said, his skin tingling from the soothing aloe cream and, of course, Jacob’s touch. He waited for Jacob to settle back into his seat, then nudged him again. “Soooo why the weirdness?”

Jacob glared at him. He had obviously hoped the segue would have made Felix forget about it. Then he sighed and gave the crowded bar another nervous glance before finally turning to Felix.

“We said we’d change when we got to college,” Jacob said. “You did. You got even more confident. And slutty.”

Felix bowed as best he could on the shitty barstool. “Thank you.”

“But I didn’t change,” Jacob continued. “Not even a little. I’m still that repressed eighteen-year-old who yelled at you for not wearing your seatbelt on our first drive to Indy.

I don’t have any friends except you. I still call my parents every week, and not because I want to.

I’m still…” He trailed off, swallowing hard.

He looked so miserable that Felix almost felt bad about being excited. It was happening, finally.

“Is this the moment?” he asked gleefully. “Is the unchangeable Jacob Branson finally venturing outside of his comfort zone? Are you going to experiment with a midnight bedtime instead of nine? Are you buying a motorcycle?”

“Like I can afford a motorcycle,” Jacob scoffed. “And my parents were right, they are deathtraps, no matter how cool they are.”

“So what are you doing?”

Jacob paused. He gripped his empty beer glass, his impeccably trimmed nails tapping nervously at the rim.

“Uh,” he started. “So you know how I’m—” He stopped, eyes fixed on something over Felix’s shoulder. His expression closed off.

“Whoa, hey,” Felix said. “What is it?”

Jacob looked away. “One of your guys is coming over.”

Felix opened his mouth to tell him that it didn’t matter, none of the guys he’d slept with since fleeing their shitty little hometown mattered, he only did it to bury his feelings for his surly best friend.

Then he forced himself to shut up, because he was never actually going to say that.

He didn’t need to. Jacob had made it clear how he felt about Felix.

The only thing Felix would get from confessing his love was an appalled look.

He had a hundred other ways to appall Jacob, and they were all less crushing.

Felix looked up to see Hec, a broody closet-case footballer who kept making out with guys after a few drinks. If he wasn’t such an asshole, Felix would pity him.

“Hey,” Hec said loudly. “Want to dance?”

Felix blinked. Hec didn’t seem wasted, but he had never asked a guy to dance without it. Maybe he was finally coming to terms with being a boy kisser. Again, Felix might have given a shit if Hec wasn’t a raging jackass whose only redeeming feature was a nice cock.

“One second,” Felix told him. He turned back to Jacob. “Hey! Come dance.”

Jacob made a face. “With him?”

“Forget about him,” Felix urged. “Come on. This could be your first act outside your comfort zone! Brand-new Jacob, here he comes!”

But Jacob did not look brand new. He looked just like the high-schooler Felix had fallen in love with, all hunched shoulders and anxious expression, a refusal already on his lips.

“I’m gonna go,” Jacob said.

Felix tried to stop him. But Jacob evaded all his attempts, even Felix’s attempt to grab him around the middle. Felix watched him leave, as he had watched him leave so many times before.

Hec cleared his throat. Maybe he was drunker than he looked, because he didn’t bring up the fact that Felix had just tried to ditch him.

“So,” Hec said. “You coming?”