Fake Friends - Saxon James Page 0,49
a month ago, so starting something, with someone as special to me as Circus already is, wouldn’t be a smart move.
I sit up and the whole room spins as my head gives a massive throb. “Motherfucker.”
“You’re going already?”
“Yeah. I need to shower. Get yelled at for leaving church. Get questioned about where I spent the night and then get ready for work.”
Circus drops back against his pillow and tucks his hands behind his head. “You could … spend the night again.”
His face is so open and hopeful it kills me to turn him down. With my heart in my throat, I lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead. “Not tonight. I’m going to need a little time just to make sure I’m okay. I can’t think about anything right now with this headache.”
He hurries to nod, and I have no idea how he can manage it after the amount we drank last night. “I’ll think of you going through all that pain while I nap the rest of the day away.”
“Asshole.” I laugh as I nudge him and force myself to stand. Then I glimpse my clothes. “Well, those are for you to deal with.” I grab the zebra-print shorts he laid out with a flamingo-patterned shirt. Dear God. Holding in a sigh, I pull them on, adding getting questioned about whose clothes I’m wearing to my list of things to do again.
I turn back when I reach the door, wanting to say more than some lame-ass excuse about how I’m sorry I can’t stick around and just enjoy a post-sex morning with him.
How I’m sorry I still have so many issues.
The same issues he had to deal with in high school.
I leave him with a smile, and me with a whole world of regret.
***
“Rowan Alexander Harvey, there you are!”
I’ve barely stepped foot inside the house when Dad’s voice reaches me. I cringe, before turning and making my way into the living area.
Mom, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa are wearing matching looks of surprise when they see me. And can I blame them?
The buttons on the shirt are still undone, and I couldn’t quite get the one on the shorts to fasten. My hair is a mess, my stubble looks untidy, and I’m pretty sure my skin is a sincere shade of green.
And I have zero shits to give.
I need to shower and get the cum out of my pubes because those fuckers pull with every step.
“Where in God’s name have you been?” Dad demands.
Here we go. “Out.”
They wait.
“Where exactly is out?”
“A friend was having a rough day, so I went to support him.”
“Which friend?” Mom asks, rubbing her temples.
And I know I could lie. I know I could throw the name of anyone in town out and they’d believe it. I could tell them it was an old friend from the football team, and my homophobic grandpa would assume only totally straight-guy stuff happened.
“Circus.”
And as expected, my grandpa lets out a splutter. “Why on earth were you with someone like him? Is that why you left church yesterday? Are you a sinner now, boy?”
I grit my teeth and try to keep my cool the way Circus did at Leita’s barbecue. “Yesterday was the anniversary of his parents’ death. I kept him company, we drank too much, and I …” Okay, now for the lie. “I threw up on my clothes, so he lent me some.”
“I knew it. Alcohol and parties …” He rounds on my mom. “See what you let this boy get up to?”
“I’m not a boy. I’m a grown-ass man, and if I want to skip out on church to support my friends, you’re not going to stop me.”
I tear from the room before they can say anything else. And also before I can cry, because all that will do is piss him off more. Crying is for girls.
Motherfucking fuckers.
I slam my door and turn the lock just to make sure no one comes near me. I’m way too hungover for this shit, and the knowledge that I’m going to pay for this later slides down my spine.
Right before I’m hit with the most obscure thought:
What the hell can he do?
Sure, he throws out mean words and looks down on me and influences all of Mom and Dad’s decisions. Grandma will never speak out against him, and if he knew who I really was, I’d probably never see them both again.
It would hurt. I know that.
But I also know Leita and Piper well enough to be