less space for times like this.
Akara answers, “That’s not protocol. You need to stay at the security apartment in the same building as Luna.”
I wait for Quinn to argue, but a second later, he just says, “Fine.”
I understand what Akara is doing. If Quinn and I can’t work together like any other guy on the team, then we shouldn’t be here. But our fight is so fresh, and I see my brother trying not to start shit. I don’t want tonight to ruin our progress on day one.
“If Quinn is sleeping here, I might go somewhere else for the night,” I tell Jack and explain my feelings.
“You can stay with me, but you’d be 2-hours from Charlie if something happens.”
That is a risk.
Before I figure out my plans, I ask, “What is it you wanted to tell me?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal.” His uneasiness says otherwise, but I don’t want to prod past comfort. He’s been dealing with so much shit, and if I can be one less thorn, then I’m going to be that silky smooth petal for him.
Didn’t think I’d end up here tonight. I’m on the pull-out couch of SFO’s Philly apartment. The one located three-floors below Farrow’s penthouse. And I’m with Jack. He’s under the thin sheet next to me, barely able to sleep on the uneven springs.
How we ended up here is classic what-the-fuckery. It began with a text.
Since Quinnie is staying at your place, you think it’s against policy to rent out his room for the night? – Donnelly
I was driving to Philly when I got that text. I talked into my phone. “Bro, why do you need to rent the room? Send.”
Because it’s an empty room. What if I rent out the couch too? Thoughts? – Donnelly
My thought was, he’s nearing broke.
I told him that I knew someone who’d rent out the couch. He didn’t ask for a name. Just an email address so he could send an invoice to the “couch renter”—and since Donnelly knows my email, I reached out to my boyfriend.
Jack sent the money to Donnelly. And when we showed up to crash on the couch tonight, he was pissed in the way that Donnelly gets pissed at friends.
He sighed really hard. And then he let it go. He even offered Jack a beer.
Standing ovation for my ingenuity.
We should be sleeping easy knowing Donnelly has some money, at least. But the pull-out couch is uncomfortable, and we end up whispering most of the night.
“When was the exact moment?” Jack murmurs, lying on our sides. My arm is draped around his waist, and I listen to him clarify, “Where you were like, yeah, I’m into him. I could fuck that guy.”
I grin. “I was thinking more like, I could hit that.”
“When?” His smile inches up.
“The same day you joined the FanCon tour. It was that night after everyone finally left the hotel room in LA.” Crowd control was terrible. The Hot Bodyguard video just leaked. My life was upending for a moment, and there came Jack Highland with a bag of supplies to get everyone through.
His levity was a breath of fresh air on a suffocating day. And he started flirting with me. Like really flirting with me that night.
I whisper all of this to Jack.
And I add, “You’re also hot, so yeah, I could hit that.”
He smiles more. His hand has been comfortably chilling on my ass. “I was so into you that night, and I think I knew it was attraction. I just wasn’t sure what kind. But I wanted to hang around you the whole time.”
“Why?”
He thinks for a second, then his lips quirk. “Basta ikaw,” he says in Tagalog, and translates again, “Because it’s you, as long as I’m with you.”
My chest swells, and we start to kiss. Quietly, gently. Our muscular legs tangle up under the sheet, and then I hear the squeak of floorboards.
I sit up, eyes narrowed in the dark.
A body wanders into the kitchen and bangs into the wall.
“Fuck,” I curse, throwing sheets off my legs. I jog into the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” Jack whispers, following me.
I flip on the lights, and he sees Donnelly sleepwalking. My best friend is running into the wall, his eyes are open but not focused. He turns towards the microwave, his chestnut hair askew and boxer-briefs low on his waist.
“He’s done this before?” Jack whispers, watching me carefully try to guide my friend back to his bedroom.
“Yeah, sometimes. Not all the time.”
Donnelly mumbles,