Chapter 10
Chris always hosted a party between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Apparently it was as traditional as turkey and tinsel. The theme varied from year to year, but he was going all out for 2014 and hosting a white party.
“Who do you think you are, fuckin’ Oprah?” Clare bitched.
Adam murmured something low in Jared’s ear about her white bikini going see-through in a pool that past summer, which made Jared snort with laughter into his nuclear waste-colored Jell-O.
Chris was insistent, though. Anyone not following the rules of his crib wouldn’t be let in. It had taken a lot for him to convince his folks to let him host another party. All the parents in town were on high alert after what had happened to Ryder, and they were serious about making sure no one else fell victim to the horrors of drug abuse.
Whatever.
Adam had told Jared all of Chris’s stash had gone. He wasn’t growing weed any more—at least, not on his parents’ property—and any dealings in the stronger stuff was strictly underground. Adam had been pissed off when he told Jared about it. Selling shit was Chris’s main source of income, and now it had been squashed by a couple of idiots who didn’t know how to play nice.
Still, according to Adam, there was going to be plenty of white powder at the white party. Enough to party on.
Relations between the tight knot of friends and the rest of the school were tenser than Jared had seen since he arrived in Washington. Other kids were scared shitless of Clare. That was nothing new, but these days they looked at the rest of the Scooby gang with a new wariness and respect, like they were expecting someone to blow up at any moment.
Ryder was out of the hospital, pacemaker free, thank God. She’d been given a prescription instead to keep her little heart going at its normal rate, and been told not to do any strenuous exercise. After the white party, she was coming back to school, or so rumor had it.
“Hey,” Adam said, leaning in to murmur in Jared’s ear.
They were supposed to be paying attention to the projected image at the front of the class, a close-up of some cells wriggling around under a microscope in real time. From the desk, their teacher paused in his lecture and scowled, but didn’t call Adam out.
“What?” Jared hissed.
“I need to go into the city to get something to wear for the fuckin’ white party. Wanna come?”
The proposition was a sexy snarl in Jared’s ear, and the fabric of his uniform trousers suddenly felt tighter across his crotch.
“Sure,” he said in a low voice.
“Awesome.”
Adam fell back onto all four legs of his chair with a thunk, and Jared couldn’t help but feel he was being watched for the rest of the class, phantom eyes burning into the back of his neck.
Jared was alone in his next class, no Clare or Adam or anyone else to distract him. It was probably unsurprising that he was doing better in history than any of his other classes. By the end of the school day, there was a faint, throbbing headache threatening behind one eye and Jared popped a couple of Tylenol before tucking his books in his locker and strolling out to meet Adam.
“Thought we’d ride in the Jag,” Adam said, leaning against his British racing green, S-type Jaguar. It was a classic, highly desirable car, so of course he drove it to school to show off.
Jared climbed in without commenting, pulling the knot of his tie loose and pulling it off over his head, throwing it in the backseat as Adam pulled out of the lot and into the flow of traffic along the main street.
Adam had already started to undress. He was wearing his unbuttoned shirt loose over a white T-shirt, tie and blazer already abandoned. The stereo was blasting Black Sabbath, a band Jared didn’t know Adam liked. He guessed it was something about paying homage to where the car had been made.
“So, how was your day?” Adam asked as he pulled onto the I-5 and let the engine of the car do what it did best, and broke about three speed limits in the space of ten seconds.
“Ugh. Not bad.”
Adam shot him a grin and pulled around an ambling semitruck. “Did you miss me last period?”
Jared barked a laugh. “Of course,” he drawled, only half joking.
They had that kind of relationship now, one where they could rib each other and tease, the sort of friendship that normally took years to build. Jared had stopped questioning Adam’s motives, stopped wondering what the thought process was behind that beautiful, smirking smile.
Truth was, he liked the way Adam looked at him, liked the way it felt when he got to look back. There was no shame in their attraction to one another. No one was giving them a hard time for being gay, for liking the way the other guy was put together. The sexy combination of nature: genetics and nurture. Money.
Jared found it easy to get over the fact that Adam was absolutely no angel. He fucked other people, both before and since meeting Jared, or got his dick sucked even if he didn’t fuck them. They were guys, they had those urges. Jared understood that. Adam didn’t let anyone else in his bed, though. He didn’t sleep beside those guys after hour-long makeout sessions.
And Jared had a feeling that meant more than any dick-sucking that was going on.
It was an hour journey into Seattle, so of course Adam canned it in just over thirty minutes. He pulled up in front of Nordstrom and walked around the car to let Jared out, like he was a real gentleman or something.
Jared slid out of the car, pocketing his phone and patting
