Jared raised an eyebrow. “You have a relationship?”
“Fuck you, Jared.”
He schooled his face into a picture of nonchalance, even as his inner gossip queen went wild. After one more drag on the cigarette, it was almost burned out, and Jared walked over to the metal box on the wall, scratching out the embers before dumping the butt.
“Let me see,” he said as he sat down next to her, gently bringing the ice pack away from her face. The cold was keeping the swelling down, but she’d likely have a shiner. She winced, and he apologized and carefully pressed the pack back onto her face. “Keep it there for a while longer if you can.”
She nodded. “You don’t hate me,” she said, her voice perfectly matter-of-fact.
“No.”
“Hm.”
“Should I?”
“A lot of people would.”
Jared nodded. “Yeah. They would.” He waited for the Hispanic guy to duck back into the kitchens, nodding a good-bye and tossing Jared one last sorrowful look over his shoulder. “I think I feel sorry for you.”
“Bitch, please.”
“You love him. It’s clear to anyone with eyes you love him, and he fucking adores you, Clare. He worships the ground you walk on.”
“It’s none of your fucking business,” she repeated, although the venom had drained from her voice.
“I’ll tell you what I think,” Jared said, getting into the swing of this now. “I think you’re scared. Chris offers you the world on a silver platter, but you know you won’t ever be able to leave him if you go there. So you keep him at arm’s distance.”
“Jared,” Clare said, a low warning.
“You’re a fucking bitch, Clare.”
She laughed once, hollowly. “That’s why you should hate me.”
“You push people away and it works. It works for everyone, apart from the people who can see through your bullshit. No one looks through your bullshit like Biggie. That’s why you call him Chris. Because there are no masks, there are no walls, there’s no hiding between you two.”
Clare sniffed, but this time a tear rolled down her cheek. Jared pressed on, knowing there would never be another chance for him to say this.
“You call him Chris,” she said petulantly, but he ignored her.
“You need to stop playing with people, Clare. You got away with it with me and Adam because it all blew up in your face, and he fell in love with me. He loves me, Clare. And I love him. One day though you’ll play the wrong game with the wrong person.”
Another tear rolled down her elegant cheek.
“Stop playing him. He doesn’t deserve it.”
To his amazement, she nodded.
They weren’t now, and would never be, super gal pals, but he felt sorry for her. He couldn’t imagine being in her shoes. Would never want to be, either.
“I’m going to go find Adam,” Jared said. “Go get yourself fixed up, and you better come back fighting, bitch. Don’t you dare fall now.”
He rose and walked off in the direction of the front of the building, hoping to loop round and get back to the entrance. The hotel was surrounded by delicate, manicured gardens, and he walked through them slowly, watching the sun start to sink over Mt. Ranier.
When his phone buzzed with Adam’s ringtone, Jared smiled to himself and pulled it out of his back pocket.
“Good timing. I’m heading for the front of the building.”
“Me too. Do you have Clare?”
“No. I just gave her a serious talking-to and left her on a bench.”
Adam snorted, and Jared felt himself fall a little bit more in love.
As promised, Adam was waiting on the front steps of the hotel when Jared rounded the corner, hands shoved deep into his pants pockets and frowning, although his face softened when he saw Jared approaching.
Wordlessly, Jared pressed himself to Adam’s side and let Adam be the quiet comfort he needed. Adam ran his hand up and down Jared’s back and pressed a soft kiss to his neck.
“So, according to the valet, there’s an ice cream place right down the street that’s open late. You wanna go get some frozen yogurt?”
“Yeah,” Jared said. “I really do.”
“Awesome.”
It was a warm night, so Jared undid the top button on his shirt and pulled his bow tie loose, letting it drape around his neck. Adam looked a little disheveled, like Ryder had put up more of a fight than any of them could have expected.
As they walked along Broadway, Adam linked their fingers together and swung their arms back and forth.
“So, you told Clare off?”
“Yeah.” Jared grinned. “Called her out on her bullshit, told her to stop fucking with people’s lives, said that she needs to get her shit together and give Chris a chance because he worships her.”
“Holy shit,” Adam breathed. “Are you serious? How are you still alive?”
“No idea. Someone needed to do it. I caught her at a weak moment, probably the only reason why I got away with it.”
The ice cream parlor was an old mom-and-pop type place, deliciously kitsch and welcoming, even at this time of night. Jared held the door open and let Adam lead them inside.
The ice creams were lined up in bright rows in the freezer, a rainbow of tempting sweetness. There were a few other patrons tucked away in booths, couples and lovers out on dates on a nice summer evening.
“Wanna share a sundae?”
Jared grinned. “Sure.”
They bickered good-naturedly over flavors for a few minutes until they were called forward to place their order, then found a booth at the back where they could hide while dessert was being made.
“Do you think we’re missing much?” Jared asked as they held hands across the table.
Adam wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Nah. Ryder was fine once she calmed down, just spitting mad.”
“Who threw the first punch?”
“Not sure. Didn’t ask.”
“Damn. Me either.”
Adam squeezed his fingers and grinned. “They’ll be talking about this prom for years.”
Leaning forward until the edge of the Formica table was digging into his ribs, Jared pressed his lips to Adam’s in a grinning kiss.
“Hey,”
