Page 37 of Jace
I sigh, damnit for caring more than I should. He holds the towel tightly around his waist as he sits on my bed, looking somewhat less intoxicated after the shower.
“You feeling better?” I ask, and he looks up at me, squinting in the lamplight on my desk. As co-captain, I have one of the largest rooms in the house this year. Besides the spacious desk crammed into one corner, there's room for a king-sized bed in the other.
“I think so. At least I don’t see two of you anymore.” He grins, bouncing a bit and tapping my blankets. “But your bed is very, very comfy. Way bigger than mine.”
Shaking my head, I grab a pair of clean boxer briefs from the hamper on my desk, still folded, and toss them his way. I manage to hit him in the face. Of course, he grabs them, stuffs his face into the fabric, pretends to sniff, and then moans. Drunk or not, he’s still Jace. So, I do what I do best–punch him in theshoulder, making him fall backward, my briefs still covering his face.
When he starts to laugh uncontrollably, I just leave him to it.
After he finally gets the boxers off his face and on his ass, I hand him two glasses of water along with some Advil that I fetched while he was struggling.
Of course, he makes himself comfortable in my bed afterward. Because why would I have expected anything else?
He's asleep before I even get a chance to cover his almost naked body with my sheets.
Alright then.
I text Kaylee, explaining that Jace has passed out, and that I’ll take care of him, so to speak. Because taking care of him in my book is making sure that there is a bucket next to my bed, and that he is actually turned that way, so I can kick him out if he has to barf and isn’t aiming very well. I’d prefer it if he didn’t vomitinmy bed.
It probably won't take long for the party to die down, so I just get down to my boxers and tee, get in the bed myself and make sure that there is a spot left for Kaylee to sleep when she comes up, before I pass out myself.
The next morning, I’m already halfway through making breakfast in our now pristine again kitchen–because Lamar actually put me to work when he found me downstairs very early–when Jace finally flounders in, carrying what appears to be a bundle of yesterday's clothes in one arm.
“Well, that was fun,” he grins at me, dropping his clothes on a vacant part of the counter. “One minute I'm snuggling with theworld's hottest football player, and the next I'm getting fondled by his girlfriend. I don't mind if you guys are into that, but give me a heads up next time.”
I blink. “You want to what? And what did Kaylee do?” I ask just as she enters, a bit flushed, her hair still damp from a shower, but her makeup and clothes immaculate as usual.
“I thought he was you,” she mumbles when she joins me, wrapping her arms around my waist and hiding her face in my back, her flowery body wash scent filling the air. “You could've woken me up when you went downstairs. I thought you were still between us, so I didn't realize I was spooning Jace until I opened my eyes, and you were suddenly blonde.”
I bark out a laugh at that and tug her under my arm, stirring the scrambled eggs with my free hand. “And the loss of muscle mass wasn’t any indication?”
She mumbles something incoherent, wedging herself closer to me, and I smile down at her. Yeah, while my bed is large enough for her and me, with Jace in it, it was a snug fit.
I pushed him against the wall–he was so out of it that he didn't even notice–to make sure there was enough room for my girl on my other side. This morning, I left them enough space in between, but Kaylee is a cuddler, so it makes sense.
Jace, who of course couldn't care less, gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Don’t worry about it; it was a good time, hun. I slept like the dead. If you two ever feel like snuggling again, let me know.” He chuckles again before helping himself to some bacon that I’ve set aside, playfully slapping my rear with his other hand. He then nods toward the empty paper bags still on the kitchen table, remnants of Lamar's grocery run this morning. Yes, he'd make a great housewife when he grows up.
“Can I take one of those ?” he asks, and when I nod he starts to stuff his dirty clothes in there.
I look at him over the countertop, taking in the blonde hair that’s flopping uncontrollably over his forehead now that there isn’t any product in it. His broad body is clad in one of my gray joggers and a black Tigers hoodie that I left for him on my desk, which I oddly seem to like if the flutter in my gut is any indication. Which of course is stupid… So I ignore it.
Maybe I wish he'd say something else about last night, about how he saw that I got hard over him with a guy–with fucking Tuck for crying out loud–but he doesn’t, seeming to have forgotten. He just starts munching on his piece of bacon when he’s done bagging the clothes. And yeah, maybe it’s better that he did forget, because I don’t know what the hell that was.
Just when I exhale in relief, he catches my eye. One corner of his lips quirks in a quick smile before he grabs the collar of the hoodie and inhales my smell, just like he did last night, making his eyes flash. Heat creeps up my neck. Yes, he remembers all right.
But he quickly averts his gaze again, focusing his attention on Kaylee instead and starts asking her about the party last night. And I really don’t know if I should be bummed that he didn’t say anything, or that I should be relieved right now that he’s maybe giving me an out, so that I can just fucking forget that it happened in the first place.
And I still don’t understand why that happened.
And maybe it doesn’t matter… Let's chalk it up to my dick's momentary confusion, a lapse in judgment, an error, a bug. He just short-circuited for a bit. Yes, I just had a dick-glitch.
I did have a lot to drink last night after all, by my standards at least.
Speaking of…
“Why aren’t you even a little hungover?” I ask Jace as I start dividing the bacon onto a couple of plates, where Kaylee has placed the toast I made earlier. “You want some?”
