Jared laughed out loud as he tucked the slip of paper into his satchel. Fifty bucks to these kids was small change, not a deterrent.
When he looked up, Adam was standing across the lot next to the Jag.
Having successfully avoided him all day, the sight of Adam—and he really did look like shit—hit Jared like a punch to the stomach.
There were deep, purple bruises under Adam’s bloodshot eyes, and for the first time in, well, ever, he looked scruffy. He hadn’t shaved, and there was fuzz on his jaw that was visible from a hundred yards away.
Jared looked away quickly and leaned down to swing himself into the Caddy, aware his heart was beating harder than it had all day, including during his marathon run before lunch. With shaking fingers he started the engine, which came to life with a low roar, and pulled out of the parking lot.
This time he didn’t look back. He’d made that mistake once before and was not about to do it again.
Chapter 15
If he rushed, Jared had time to drive home, get changed, and go to Seattle in the truck, because fuck, did the Caddy drink gas.
It wasn’t that he wanted to impress Dylan, but tonight, for some reason, Jared had taken more time than usual in picking his clothes, styling his hair. The cashmere sweater had been a gift from his eldest sister when she learned he was moving to Washington. It was a deep forest green that looked nice against his skin. Jared pushed the sleeves up to his elbows and pulled on dark jeans to go with it.
He wasn’t thinking, forcing any conscious thought from his mind, as he slicked cologne over his throat and tried not to look at his eyes in the mirror.
When he arrived at the designated Starbucks, Dylan was waiting and Jared rushed to get his order from the barista.
“Sorry I’m late,” Jared said.
“No, it’s fine. I got here a while ago. You look nice.”
Jared blushed. “Thanks. I get so fucking pissed off with uniform, you know? Sometimes it feels good to dress up.”
Dylan nodded in agreement and reached for his coffee. “Definitely. I couldn’t wait to leave the Academy for the same reason.”
Jared opened his laptop and pulled up the notes from their last study session. His grades had seriously recovered since he’d started being tutored, and he made sure to let Dylan know how grateful he was. In one of the classes he’d been failing—chemistry—he was now in the top third of the class. It all made sense to him when Dylan was the one talking him through the equations and formulas.
“So, where have you applied for college?” Dylan asked while Jared got his notes and homework in order.
“Brown is my first choice,” Jared said distractedly. “Dartmouth and Rice, even though I don’t particularly want to go back to Texas.”
“Interesting mix.”
“I threatened to apply for Sarah Lawrence to piss my dad off,” Jared said with a grin.
Dylan grinned back. “Sarah Lawrence is a great school.”
“Yeah, but it’s a ‘chick college,’ according to him. He’s such a fucking misogynist.”
“There’s no love lost between you, is there?”
“What, the man who sent me to military school to pray away the gay?” Jared huffed. “No. We don’t get along.”
“That’s a shame,” Dylan murmured, then turned to Jared’s chem textbook. “Thermodynamics?”
“Ugh,” Jared groaned. “Yeah, okay.”
An hour later Jared’s eyes were starting to hurt. He understood all of this; that wasn’t the problem. Apparently Clare, Chris, Adam, and all his troubles hadn’t been left at Harbor Academy.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Dylan asked and Jared realized, with a rush of heat to his face, that Dylan knew.
“Not particularly,” he mumbled. Then, “not here.”
“Okay.” Dylan nodded in understanding, and Jared suddenly pushed himself upright.
“Can we get out of here?” he asked in a rush. “I’ll take you for dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’d like to take you to dinner,” Jared amended, hoping he wasn’t making an epically huge mistake.
Dylan smiled softly. “Okay,” he said again, and helped Jared pack up his things.
When they got outside, Jared was pleased, for a reason he couldn’t name, that he hadn’t brought the Caddy. It was ostentatious and so not him, and he got the impression Dylan would call him out on that kind of bullshit. His sleek red truck was far more his style.
Since Dylan knew the area, Jared followed him a few blocks over to a warm-looking Indian restaurant. While Dylan parked, Jared wondered if this counted as a date and silently sent a prayer of thanks to his sister for the gorgeous sweater. At least he looked good.
“Does this work for you?” Dylan asked when he joined Jared at the door.
“Yeah, absolutely. I haven’t had decent Indian food in forever.”
“You’ll like it here, then,” Dylan said with a grin and held the door open.
Edging into date territory, for sure.
The hostess seated them in a good spot near a window, so they could people-watch during any lulls in conversation and within sight of the open-fronted kitchen. For a moment they both watched as white-jacketed chefs shouted instructions to each other over the hiss and steam of the sizzling curries.
They requested water, since they were both driving, and ordered from a young, smiling Indian girl who relayed the message to the kitchen in her mother tongue.
“This place is nice,” Jared said. He sipped ice water with lime.
Dylan nodded. “One of the guys I have a class with brought a bunch of us here. His family owns a few restaurants here and in Tacoma. The food is amazing.”
They were quiet for a few minutes, and Jared looked over Dylan’s body. Tonight, he was wearing a sort of ugly knitted sweater that actually looked pretty good on him and tight jeans tucked into his
