Chapter 11
Felix slumped over the bar, glaring.
Jacob was on the other side of The Last Call, being social. Which was good! Felix had been pestering him to be more social for years. He just never expected Jacob to do it. Without his help, even. Felix had retreated to the bar five minutes ago to see if Jacob would seek him out like he always did.
But this time, Jacob stayed in that crowd of people from his stats class whom he’d barely talked to before tonight, chatting and laughing and only looking a little bit like he wanted to hide under a table.
Felix should be proud of him. He was proud. But the pride was buried under so much panic he could barely notice it. He was losing more of Jacob every minute. Would they still hang out every day after they both moved off campus?
Jack Smith whistled from behind the bar. “Hey. You need a top-up?”
Felix turned to look at him. Jack was in his usual bartending uniform: a tight white tee with a rag slung over his shoulder. He looked hot. Felix was too miserable to appreciate it.
We’d drive each other crazy, Jacob had insisted. Felix thought driving each other crazy was a feature of their friendship, not a bug. Apparently, he was wrong.
Jack gestured at Felix’s empty glass. “Hello? Do you need more or not?”
Felix sighed. “Fill ’er up, barkeep.”
Jack poured another two fingers of the cheapest whiskey available and turned to go.
Felix grabbed his arm, barely able to enjoy the muscle underneath it. “Hey! You know I’m paying someone to teach me how to clean?”
“You were serious about that?” Jack snorted, rubbing the bags under his eyes. “Who’d you rope into that shit?”
Felix waved dismissively and took a swig of whiskey.
It was his fourth glass, which meant he was reaching the point where he didn’t want to gag as it went down.
It also meant that he was reaching that pleasant hazy zone which meant he shouldn’t drink any more.
Not that he paid much attention to that last part.
“Some loser who owns a house,” Felix said. “He’s not even thirty! Who the fuck owns a house before thirty?”
“People with rich parents,” Jack deadpanned. “You need anything else?”
Felix shot another look at Jacob. He looked happy. A little out of his depth, but happy. Why couldn’t Felix be happy for him? Maybe it was natural for childhood friends to grow apart in college. But he never thought it would happen to them.
He waited for Jacob to look back at him.
He always did that during group conversations, wanting Felix to save him or, failing that, drag him away so they could get away from these people.
They never needed anybody else. Until Jacob decided he wanted to be ‘new Jacob,’ who apparently had other friends and didn’t need Felix to save him from conversations anymore.
Fine, Felix thought grudgingly. You don’t need me? I don’t need you.
“You know what I need?” Felix said, turning back to Jack. “I need to get fucked. You down?”
Jack didn’t even look surprised. He just stood there, dead-eyed, like this wasn’t even the third weirdest thing he’d heard today.
“Even if I wasn’t your TA,” Jack said. “No.”
Felix scoffed. “Rude. I’m great in bed.”
“And I don't bat for your team,” Jack said flatly. He dragged a bowl of peanuts in front of Felix. “Do everyone a favor and eat something before you puke in the corner.”
“That was one time,” Felix argued. He grabbed a handful of peanuts and stuffed them into his mouth. Garbled, he continued: “You know he never wanted to talk to anyone? Now look at him.”
Jack glanced over at Jacob, who was still surrounded by those losers from stats class. “Okay. Good.”
“Not good,” Felix insisted.
Jack sighed. He looked like he wanted to walk away, but there was no one else to serve. “Why?”
“He’s my best friend.”
“So? He can have other friends.”
“He’s never wanted other friends,” Felix said desperately. “Just me.”
It sounded pathetic. But Felix couldn’t help it. He should want Jacob to have more friends. To move wherever the hell he wanted. To grow, for fuck’s sake.
Felix did want him to grow. But he also wanted to keep Jacob for himself.
They had always belonged to each other, Felix and Jacob, their names spoken together so often they ran into each other.
FelixnJacob. Jacob always bitched about coming last, which Felix adored.
He would listen to Jacob bitch for the rest of his life, if Jacob let him.
Fuck, would Jacob let him? Or would they drift apart like childhood friends were supposed to?
“Go home,” Jack told him. “Drink some water.”
“You drink some water,” Felix muttered. He downed the rest of his terrible whiskey and spun in his seat, scanning the bar.
It was a Tuesday night. Not a lot of options. People were there to have a casual drink with friends or sip a beer while they studied, not to get wasted and find someone to go home with. Felix was about to give up hope when his eyes locked on someone at the other end of the bar.
It was Hec. Closet-case, football-playing Hec, the last guy he’d fooled around with before Jacob introduced The List. He looked nervous, but only until he spotted Felix looking. Then he squared up, his expression turning bored.
Felix grinned and slid off his seat. He didn’t leave a tip—those whiskeys had drained him completely dry until his parents sent him money the following week. He marched over to Hec and slid onto the seat next to him.
“Hi,” Felix purred. “Come here often?”
Hec frowned at him. “What?”
Felix sighed. Another thing about Hec: he had no imagination.
“Never mind,” Felix said. “Want to go back to my dorm?”
“Sure,” Hec said. He didn’t even glance around to see if anyone was looking, which was progress. Too bad Felix didn’t give a shit about him. Too bad Felix didn’t give a shit about nearly anyone except Jacob, who was making a life for himself that didn’t have any room for him.
Felix started following Hec out of The Last Call.
Then he paused. Jacob still wasn’t looking at him.
Why wasn’t Jacob looking at him? Felix was looking at Jacob constantly.
He used to walk into telephone poles because of it, then he’d have to pretend he did it as a goof while Jacob swore at him and checked him for bruises.
The people around Jacob laughed. Jacob laughed with them, smiling so beautifully it made Felix want to hit something.
“Wait,” he blurted. He tugged Hec to a stop, then stepped in close.
Hec flinched. “What are you doing?”
“You can come back to my dorm,” Felix said, “if you kiss me right now.”
Hec’s jaw worked. He usually had to be significantly drunker than this to kiss a guy in public. Felix clocked him at barely tipsy.
But to his surprise, Hec leaned down and kissed him.
Felix deepened it immediately. He wound his hands through Hec’s hair, pouring every ounce of fake passion and very real frustration into the kiss.
Hec broke the kiss after only a few seconds, breathing hard. “Uh. Okay.”
Felix ignored him. He twisted to look at Jacob, expecting to see him lost in conversation.
His heart thudded. Jacob was looking at him, finally. But he didn’t look annoyed like Felix had expected. He looked shocked. Even a little betrayed.
He didn’t expect me to go home with anyone while we were doing the list, Felix realized. He would probably get an earful the next day about sexual health practices, but Felix couldn’t bring himself to care. He was so sick of being in love with someone who would never feel the same way.
Hec didn’t love him—hell, Felix suspected he didn’t even like him—but he wanted him. That was as good as Felix was going to get.
“Come on,” Felix muttered to Hec as he turned back toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”