Jared twisted the end of the joint tightly, then leaned back and lit it, letting the paper scorch for a moment before he inhaled deeply. And exhaled messily.
“Won’t people care that you’re not downstairs?” Jared asked as he passed the joint. “Not that I’m complaining, by the way.”
“Nah. Wallace has it covered.”
“I like that guy a lot.”
“Everyone likes the underdog,” Adam said and brought the joint to his lips.
“Harsh, man.”
“But it’s true. Chris represents everything that people—our parents and grandparents—worked so hard to keep out of the school. He’s black, his family hasn’t been here since 1790 like everyone else’s, and he got here on his own merit. He’s charismatic and fun, and people like him. He grows great weed.”
Adam passed the joint back and pulled open the long, thin drawer in the coffee table to find an ashtray.
“Why does Clare call him Chris?”
“’Cause that’s his fucking name, dude,” Adam said, laughing.
“But everyone calls him Biggie.”
“It’s a nickname. You’re under no obligation to use it. Call him Chris if you like. He won’t care.”
“No,” Jared said. “You’re not getting it. It’s not about what I call him, it’s about what Clare calls him. And why.”
Adam grinned. “You see it too.”
“Am I the only one? Seriously?”
“Nah, there’s been shit going down between Wallace and Clare for years. I don’t know what it is because I don’t ask. There’s no point. They wouldn’t tell me anyway, and they’d only get pissed that I asked. It’s their shit to figure out. Let them at it.”
“Ryder?”
“Dumb bitch. Here ’cause she’s from the right family, not because she’s got any brains.”
“Mia?”
“Are you seriously going to make me psychoanalyze all my friends?” Adam asked.
“Only if you want to.”
“All right. Mia doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. She’s smart, and she got involved with the right people at the right time. Clare’s carrying her through this school, and they both know it.”
“So you’re saying not to trust her.”
“Don’t trust anyone,” Adam said seriously.
“Not even you?”
“Especially not me.”
Chapter 5
The party started to wind down around three in the morning, when the noise from downstairs ebbed and the cars around the house growled to life.
“I’m blocking someone in,” Jared said, remembering. He’d kicked his shoes off to tuck his feet up on the couch, and he was pleasantly buzzed from the whiskey and weed.
“Which one?”
Jared snorted. “The fucking pink Caddy.”
“That’s Wallace’s ride. You’re all right.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Fuck, no. And that’s not any pink Caddy, dude. That’s Elvis’s pink Cadillac.”
“Bullshit,” Jared said. “That’s at Graceland. I’ve seen it.”
“Nah, he had a fleet of them. Wrecked a couple, too. Someone bought one of the wrecks, paid a shitload of money to fix it up, then sold it. Wallace has the papers and everything. Elvis motherfuckin’ Presley owned that vehicle.”
“You want it,” Jared said with a grin.
“Oh, hell yeah. That’s a money-can’t-buy ride, you know? Trust me, I’ve tried. Chris won’t sell.”
Jared nodded. “Will he crash here tonight, then?”
“Yeah. A few people usually do. There’s a couple of guest rooms, and they’ll argue over those and who has to sleep on the couch. No one will come over here, though.”
If there was an offer in his words Jared couldn’t hear it. His brain was foggy with drugs, and he was tired. Bone tired.
“I’m gonna go,” Jared said, hauling himself to his feet with extreme effort.
“No, you’re not. Stay here.”
“I can’t, man.”
“I can’t let you drive,” Adam countered. “You’re drunk and high. It would be… irresponsible of me.” Sarcasm laced his words, but they were delivered with a lazy grin.
“All right,” Jared acquiesced. “Where’s the linen closet? I’ll grab a couple of blankets.”
Adam rolled to his feet and flicked off the TV, then stretched his arms over his head until something popped. “Fuck it, I can’t be bothered to go and find shit for you. Just sleep in with me.”
“Nuh-uh. People will think we had sex.”
“So fucking what?”
“I’m not going to have sex with you,” Jared said, leaning against the arm of the couch.
Adam shrugged. “Your loss. I’m not in the mood to fuck right now anyway. I just want to go to sleep.”
For a moment Jared wondered whether he should be offended. There was something in the look Adam was giving him he didn’t know how to interpret, but he was too tired and too high to think about it in any depth.
“Okay,” Jared said after a moment, and followed Adam through to his cavernous bedroom.
He hovered on the middle step down into the room as Adam went to a dresser and started throwing things around. Eventually a pair of plaid pajama pants and a light gray T-shirt landed in his arms, and Adam nodded to the bathroom.
“There should be spare toothbrushes in the cabinet.”
“Does this happen often, then?”
Adam smirked lazily, and didn’t answer.
Feeling like a dick, Jared went into the bathroom and quickly changed into the pajamas. While brushing his teeth with one of the spare toothbrushes, he regarded his bloodshot eyes and sallow skin.
Weed was not a good look on him.
When he was done, he swapped with Adam, then sat on the end of the bed and waited until Adam was finished in the bathroom. He re-emerged wearing a pair of black pajama pants with glow-in-the-dark stars printed on them and a black T-shirt. He looked irrationally good, especially with his hair mussed, his eyes tired.
“Do you have a side?”
“Yeah. Right.” Adam pointed to the side of the bed with an alarm clock.
It was weird. So weird. All of a sudden there was expectation between them, even though Jared was pretty sure he couldn’t be more explicit than he’d already been that sex was not in the cards. There was something in the way Adam looked at him. It was a little lust, a little of the entitled attitude that was surprisingly hot.
Jared crawled into the other side
