by Anna Martin
Jared slid out of the car, pocketing his phone and patting his ass to make sure his wallet was in his back pocket. Adam noticed the gesture but didn’t comment. He locked his precious car and strode into the store, not waiting for Jared to fall in step beside him.
“Fucking white party,” Adam grouched as they lazily roamed the racks of high-end menswear. “Normally I’m down with whatever nineties throwback shit Wallace wants to do, but seriously? No one has worn all white since ninety-seven.”
“You could always go with stonewashed denim,” Jared said, tongue firmly tucked in cheek.
“Fuck that,” Adam said emphatically. He lifted a Tom Ford knitted sweater from a rack and held it up. “This might work.”
It was a chunky knit in an off-white color, classy and stylish. Jared lifted the tag with one finger and blinked at the price. Jesus.
In the next half hour, Adam found a pair of tailored shorts, cut slim so they hugged his thighs. He tried the whole outfit on, modeling it for Jared, who nodded his approval.
“Nice.”
“Thanks. Do you want to look for anything?”
“In here? No. Where’s H&M?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I don’t know about you, but I’m not spending twelve hundred bucks on an outfit for one party. Especially not when some drunk chick is likely gonna spill beer all down the front of it.”
Adam rolled his eyes and ducked behind the heavy velvet curtain to change back into his uniform.
“Don’t blame me when you’re not well dressed,” he called back.
They’d been getting snooty looks from the sales clerk since they walked in, either for their uniforms or their outrageous flirting or the fact that they were young. So Jared felt more than a little smug when Adam handed over his purchases, totally nonchalant, then swiped his Amex to pay for it.
“Dick,” Adam muttered as they strode out of the store. “H&M. Are you serious?”
“Deadly,” Jared said. “Come on, pretty boy. Slum it with me.”
He threw his arm around Adam’s shoulders and matched his pace as they walked the few blocks, clearly heading into a more down-market territory, before Adam stopped and stood in the doorway to the familiar store.
“Are you sure about this?” he said, his face perfectly serious. “Once you go in there, you know there’s no going back. It’s poly-cotton blend from here on out.”
Jared pushed Adam and frog-marched him into the store.
Inside, it was blissfully generic. It only took Jared a few minutes to find a simple white button-down that rolled to the elbows. It had a white-on-white stripe that was actually quite nice. He didn’t mind spending forty bucks on something he’d wear again. The chinos he found were off-white, rather than pure white, but so was Adam’s sweater, so he didn’t think it would count as a violation of Chris’s rules.
“See, less than a buck fifty,” he said, throwing in some gangsta slang Biggie would be proud of. “No need to spend a month’s fucking allowance on threads.”
He paid in cash, to prove a point, and stuck his hand in Adam’s back pocket as he grumbled under his breath all the way back to the car. Before he slid into the passenger seat, Jared planted a wet kiss on Adam’s cheek.
“Thanks for bringing me out here.”
Under the frown, the edges of Adam’s lips quirked up. It was a brief smile, but a telling one.
“Come on. I’m taking you to dinner,” Adam said as he pulled out into the flow of traffic. “And we’re not going to fucking McDonalds, before you try and drag me to another one of your white-trash haunts.”
Jared laughed off the insult, knowing Adam didn’t mean it, making it all the more funny. They ended up in some fancy seafood place.
At the door, Adam was greeted by a hostess who hugged him like an old friend while Jared stood back awkwardly and felt a rush of possessiveness. Who was this bitch, and why was she hugging his… his friend like that?
“Jared, this is Sophie,” Adam said. “This is my mom’s favorite place to go when she’s in town, so I know Sophie and Anton well.”
Feeling like a dick, Jared broke into a smile and extended his hand to shake Sophie’s. She led them to a table near the kitchen, a small space for two in an intimate little alcove.
“Let me know if you need anything,” she said with a nod, then ducked back to her station.
Jared let Adam order, not trusting himself around the French titles on the menu.
“Can’t I just get some fucking fries,” he muttered when Adam was done.
“I ordered you dauphinoise potatoes. Trust me, they’re amazing.”
“What else?”
Adam huffed. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Not at all,” Jared said easily, leaning back in his chair. Adam had ordered white wine with their meal, and Sophie had brought over two glasses without questioning him or asking for ID. It was crisp and bright, the flavor bursting on Jared’s tongue as he took a sip. Wine wasn’t usually his thing, but this was nice. He could get used to the expensive stuff, it seemed.
With the glass of wine cradled against his chest, Jared looked around the restaurant, appreciating the warm, European feel of the place. The chef obviously took pride in sourcing local décor, along with local ingredients. Seattle was a good place to go for fresh seafood, after all.
When the food arrived, it was all on one serving platter: a bowl of fish stew in a light sauce, piles of thinly sliced potatoes and leeks, and a mountain of sharp green beans, peas, and broccoli.
“Wow,” Jared murmured. “Looks good.”
“It is. Help yourself.”
Large silver serving spoons were balanced on either side of the platter and Jared dug in with enthusiasm.
“You see why I love this place?” Adam asked rhetorically as he speared a piece of flaky white fish, examined it, then licked the fork clean. In different circumstances—maybe when Jared wasn’t so focused on eating—he would have been hyperaware of the soft pink tongue and how it wrapped around the tines of the fork.
The room was warm, and the wine complemented the food perfectly, and Jared felt himself relaxing, truly relaxing for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t quite name what had changed. It was probably a combination of factors, and Adam’s leg knocking against his under the table didn’t harm that general feeling of well-being.
“So, what’s going on with Clare and Ryder?” Jared asked as he helped himself to more green beans. “I’m not sure I was following everything that went down.”
“You mean Clare and her diet cokeheads?”
“No… well, yeah, I wanna know who she was partying with. But she said something about Ryder pulling a Cobain?”
Adam sighed. “Ryder’s mental health has always been in a state of flux,” he said carefully. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“She does this on purpose?”
“I don’t know much,” Adam said and reached for his wine. “She’s been in the hospital a few times for overdoses. Once it was pills and vodka. Clare called that her Monroe episode.”
“Christ. She really is a bitch.”
“She was the one who took yellow roses to Ryder’s hospital room every weekend until she got out of the psych ward.”
“I don’t get it,” Jared admitted.
“Me either. Clare has some theory that it’s a cry for attention. Ryder is the ignored kid in her family. Dylan is her fucking twin and he skipped a grade, so he’s at college already, despite being born ten minutes after her. And Tyler has a lot of special needs, so their parents spend a lot of time with him. She’s sort of left out.”
“So she, what, resorts to suicide attempts?”
“I don’t think she actually wants to kill herself,” Adam said. “She just wants someone to notice her.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Watch,” Adam said knowingly. “She’ll be out of the hospital soon and everyone is going to make a massive fuss of her. At school, at home, everywher
e. I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve that or anything, but it’ll happen. She needs it, I guess.”
“What happens if—"
“Don’t,” Adam said sharply. “We’ve all done the what-if game. She’ll go back into therapy after this whether she likes it or not. Clare will make sure of it.”
“She could have died.”
“I know,” Adam said.
“Does Clare really not care?”
“I have absolutely no idea what Clare thinks. She was at a UDub party on Saturday night, before you ask. Playing with the big boys.”
“That woman is a walking contradiction.”
“The key word there was ‘woman,’” Adam said, smiling over the top of his glass.
“Amen to that.”
When the last scrap of sauce had been scraped up with a crust of bread, Adam leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach. “So good,” he murmured.
“Much better than McDonalds,” Jared agreed, pleased when Adam grinned without reservation.
“Told you,” he said lightly.
“Are you going to get me a McFlurry from the drive-through on the way home?”
“No fucking way.” Adam laughed.
When Sophie brought the check over, Adam snatched it away before Jared had time to look at it.
“We can split it,” Jared said, suddenly feeling awkward. Just because he wasn’t prepared to drop a grand on designer clothes for one party didn’t mean he couldn’t afford to pay for dinner.
Adam shook his head. “I’ve got it,” he said. “My choice, I’ll pay.”
“That makes this a date, you know,” Jared said. He was angling for a reaction and got one. Adam flustered, then visibly steeled himself.
“If you like,” he said with a shrug of enforced nonchalance.
Jared ducked his head and grinned.
In Adam’s car Jared took control of the stereo and tuned it to The End, one of his favorites, and cranked his seat back so he could kick his shoes off and put his feet up on the dash. Adam didn’t bitch at all, and Jared watched him as much as he could get away with as the city melted into suburbs, then through dark streets, and over the Deception Pass Bridge to take them home.
“Stay at my place tonight,” Adam said, the touch of arrogance in his voice oddly charming. He looked over as they hit the island, then shifted his gaze back to the road.
“I need clean clothes,” Jared replied.
“So we’ll swing by your place, pick up clothes, then come back to mine.”
“You could always stay at my place.”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Jared. We have a routine. Don’t be a dick.”
Jared was always planning on saying yes. He just didn’t want to miss the opportunity to yank at Adam, see how far he could push things. Hadley’s car was parked haphazardly when they pulled up out front along with a few others, bumper to bumper, and Jared sighed, slumping back in his seat before opening the door.
“You don’t have to come in with me,” he said, surprised when Adam followed him out of the car.
Adam shrugged. “I don’t mind. Plus, I want to see your room.”
With his hands full of bags, Jared led the way up to the house. He didn’t bother to knock, already hearing the noise from a crowd of thirty-somethings partying it up like they were twenty-one.
“We’ll make this quick,” he muttered, swinging all his bags into one hand and grabbing Adam’s with the other.
There wasn’t any chance for them to slip by unnoticed, though. As they crossed the hallway, Hadley slipped out of the kitchen with a bottle of wine in each hand.
“Jared!” she exclaimed, swaying on her bare feet, apparently a little drunk. “Sorry I missed your call earlier. Got your message though. Eating out with Adam.”
Jared felt the blush rise in his cheeks, even though she didn’t mean anything sexual. Adam raised a hand in greeting.
“Hey, Ms Saunders,” he said.
“Fuck me, Adam. Call me Hadley. Sheesh.”
Adam laughed and dropped his hand. When he wanted to, the polite, charming, well-raised young man shone through his epic asshole exterior. “I invited Jared to stay over at my place tonight. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all. You guys seem to spend a lot of time together these days….”
This time there definitely was implication in her words. Jared blushed harder, feeling his ears heat.
“We’re friends, Hadley. You know that. And I need to get a decent night’s sleep every now and then.”
It was a dig intended to hurt her. Jared knew she didn’t have a whole bunch of friends here, and the only people who knew her were imported from somewhere else. They didn’t have anywhere else to go; Hadley’s hospitality was what kept them in Washington.
“Yeah. Okay,” Hadley said. “No worries.” She was clearly hurt, at least a little bit by Jared’s words, and held up her bottles of wine. “I’ll get back to the guys. I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Jared nodded and continued on, up the stairs and down the hall to the room Hadley let him call his own. Adam followed silently.
The room was a mess, but not hideously so. Just a few things on the floor and a pile of papers on his desk. Dirty clothes were thankfully contained in his laundry hamper and the bed was made… sort of.
“It’s nice in here,” Adam said, leaning against the door frame.
“Thanks. I didn’t decorate or anything. It was like this when I got here. Hadley said I could pick a room, and I liked this one the best.”
It wasn’t the biggest room in the house, nor the second or third biggest. It was tucked out of the way at the end of the hall so he didn’t have to deal with people stomping past when they stayed over. There was a bathroom opposite he’d claimed as his own, and enough space for a king bed and his desk, which was all he really needed.
The walls were papered dark blue with a very fine checked pattern. The woodwork was clean white, and the furniture was made of solid pine, which was nice, so he’d kept it. There was a TV mounted on the wall, fully loaded with all the cable channels, not that Jared watched much.
His bed wasn’t quite as big as Adam’s, but it was fine for Jared on his own, the king more than enough space for him to stretch out on.
Jared crossed to his closet and pulled out a clean shirt and pants, then found a tank top from his dresser to wear under the shirt. He balled up boxers and socks and stuffed them into an Eastpak, shouldering the bag, then nodding to Adam.
“Okay. I’m good.”
Adam grinned. “Yes, you are,” he said, his voice an appreciative burr.
On impulse, Jared grabbed the front of Adam’s shirt and pulled him into a hard kiss, lips and teeth catching painfully at first before Adam grunted, caught his footing, and wrapped a hand around the back of Jared’s neck to steady him.
Then Adam licked into Jared’s mouth, immediately taking the kiss hard and deep. They were both still dressed in their school uniforms, and Jared had a fleeting idea about dragging Adam down onto his bed and making out there, maybe pushing their boundaries a little further, figuring out what else they could do. In his bed.
Adam’s hair was silky smooth under Jared’s fingertips, the light brown strands still soft despite the product Adam must have used to make it look so good. By this time of day—it was nearly eight—there was light stubble on Adam’s jaw that definitely hadn’t been there that morning, and Jared fought the impulse to lick it.
He hummed into the kiss, then broke it with a quick peck to the tip of Adam’s elegant nose.
“Mm. That was nice. Come on. I want to get out of here before we run into one of Hadley’s drunk friends.”
Adam seemed confused, and it was his turn to have to take extra steps to catch up with Jared as he strode down the hallway.
Chapter 11
The white party wasn’t invitation-only. Chris opened his doors, and the neighborhood flooded in, as with most of the parties he hosted. From the first one, just afte
r school started, to now, Jared had learned the boundaries and idiosyncrasies of this odd little clan of people and felt far more confident in navigating the social rules.
Adam offered him a ride to the party, but Jared declined, preferring to get ready at his place, then make his way to Chris’s house. For some reason, it was important that he took his car there, that he arrived alone, on his terms and in his own time.
Not wanting to arrive too early, Jared forced himself out of the house for a run in the early evening, just as the sun was starting to lower in the sky. It took a good couple of hours to circle New Harbor, taking in the sights of the picturesque town at sunset while Fall Out Boy blared in his ears.
By the time he arrived home, his muscles were singing and he was out of breath, sweating, feeling generally disgusting. He pushed his fingers through his hair and let himself back into the house, jogging lightly up the stairs and heading straight for the bathroom.
While he showered, humming to himself, he contemplated how much things had changed from the first party he’d attended at Chris’s to this one. Things could have been so very different if he hadn’t immediately settled with the “in” crowd here, and he still wasn’t sure what stroke of luck or turn of fate had brought him to this conclusion. Whatever it was, he was grateful. Starting at a new school for the senior year of high school sucked.
Jared had planned to wear a tank under the shirt—it was thin, and probably see-through, but standing naked in front of the mirror in his room changed his mind.
He definitely didn’t have a bad body. Playing soccer, along with his regular running and gym habit, had sculpted his muscles and added definition where flab would otherwise have set in. Unlike some of the kids his age, he had hair on his chest, light, golden fuzz across his tanned skin. Jared was always a little tanned; genetics had given him a dusky skin color.
Tonight, he was in the mood to play. He wasn’t sure what the rules were, yet was determined to break them. He grabbed a crisp, clean jockstrap from a drawer and pulled it on, letting the straps settle comfortably under the curve of his ass, lifting it and giving him some definition there.
