Page 60 of Jace
Since I had an away game last weekend after things went south, I didn't even think about the possibility of him ignoring me until it became pretty clear that hewasignoring me. And still is. I mean, I was busy playing and winning a very important game, and I didn't get back until late Sunday afternoon.
By then, I was so freaking tired after having slept like shit for two nights after my breakup, that I hit the sack early.
Okay, maybe that is a bit melodramatic, but it sure was one heck of an emotional shitfest that Friday. I'm not one to usually have much personal drama in my life. So the almost-threeway, the explosion of confusing feelings about Jace, and then the breakup?
It was way too much drama for the likes of me.
So no, I don’t particularly want to go to Yetties and be bummed out again when he isn’t there.
I did run into Kaylee this week, and that went fine. As I explained to Lamar, she and I still have contact, and we actually talk way easier now that we're just friends. It's weird as fuck.
When I asked why that was, she said that it’s because I’ve finally realized that she doesn’t have a dick. Then she proceeded to laugh her ass off, making everybody stare at us. I'm pretty sure I've never heard her laugh like that. It actually feels like something has lifted off her shoulders, and off mine.
I still don't know if I'm gay, bi, pan, demi, or any of the other many possibilities on the rainbow.
I have no idea.
The only thing Idoknow–thanks to my awesome porn and Google research–is that I have a major boner for Jace, still have, and that I need to figure out how to talk to him about how to make this happen again.
Because this ghosting thing that he’s been doing? So not cool. Especially when I’m getting quite desperate to see him. Porn can only do so much.
“You don't want to go to Yetties?” Lamar asks, fiddling with a couple of pens on my desk. “I get that, man. The cockwaffle is sure to be there.”
I punch him in the shin. “Told you, me and Kaylee are okay.”
“Ow, what’s that for?” he asks, rubbing his leg. “So why don't you wanna go to Yetties? Yesterday it was just fine.”
If by 'yesterday,' he meant that I was sitting at the band's table like a stalker, pretending to do some coursework, then yeah, it was perfectly fine.
Jace doesn't want to see me; that's plain obvious. But I can have a drink there with my friends. And if he happens to be there? Great, then I can pounce on him and demand to know why he's being stupid.
“Nah, it's okay, we can go.” I get up and grab my wallet, putting it in my back pocket together with my phone. “Maybe having a couple of drinks tonight is a good idea actually.”
Lamar grins. “Now we’re talking. Because the dudes and I actually had a different idea.”
I cock my head, apprehensive of his manic glee. “What? Oh, hell no. I'm not going to go play drunk paintball with your moronic ass ever again. Coach forbade us after you almost broke my leg last time, remember? After yippee-ka-yaying like a motherfucker and jumping off that damn shed?”
“It wasn’tthathigh.”
“It was, you know it.”
“Gah.” He waves my comment away. “No, me, Miles, and Tuck are going to a club. And you're coming with.”
“Tuck?” I ask as I shrug on my zippered hoodie from the Tigers. “Are you sure he wants me to come?”
“What? You guys are cool now, right? Still don't know what crawled up your ass at practice last week.”
I might have gotten an inkling of an idea, but again, not going to elaborate because we are cool, actually. He says hi, I say hi, he looks at me funny, I ignore him. Very peachy.
“Nah, we're cool.” I drain the last of my beer and leave the bottle next to Lamar's, which, of course, makes him cringe. I can see the war in him to grab them or not, but I make the choice for him and push him out of the door. He can be Mr. Proper tomorrow when we're all hungover. “Let's go, then. Liquor me up so I can forget about this awful week.”
“Amen to that, brother,” Lamar agrees, slapping me on the back as we head downstairs.
But when we get downstairs, where Tuck and Miles are apparently waiting already, drinking a beer on the couch in our living room, Miles greets me, but Tuck looks at me funny. Again.
“Yeah, that's not going to work. I swear you and Lamar are idiots when it comes to fashion.” Tuck gestures at my tee, hoodie, and jeans combo. “Get your ass back upstairs and grab that white dress shirt and those gray slacks that Kaylee made you wear when you guys had that wedding of her cousin last spring.”
“How the hell do you know what kind of clothes I have?”
