Page 34 of Puck Lust

“It’s really a great thing that you’re doing for those kids,” he says in a low voice. “You’re giving them an amazing gift, Jack. Not just with your time and talent, but your heart.”

Speaking of hearts, mine swells in my chest at that.

“So maybe I’m not the self-centered jerkoff you thought I was?” I glance at him, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, you definitely are,” he says with a chuckle. “But only like ninety-percent douchebag. The other ten percent is halfway decent.”

“Just halfway?” I ask, turning my head in his direction. I wince when the bruised parts of my face hit the pillow, but his heated gaze pulls me in, making the sharp pain fade to fuzzy static.

“Yeah.” He holds my gaze for a long beat and my breath hitches, the air crackling with a whole load of things I want to say but can’t. “Until you decide that you’re willing to go further.”

And it may be wishful thinking on my part, but I swear that his words hold a question…one I don’t know if I’m strong enough to answer.

TWELVE

carter

A sharp ringtone pulls me from a fitful sleep the next morning.

I slap the top of the nightstand, my head still buried underneath my pillow. My fingers finally find my phone and I stab the accept button.

“Yeah?” I mutter, not even bothering to check the screen first.

“Dude, you better get down here. It’s a fucking mob scene.”

I fling the pillow off my head and shoot up off the mattress, my eyes immediately searching for Jack.

But he’s not here.

In fact, his bed barely looks slept in.

“What’s going on?” I ask Masterson, getting up from the bed. “Is Jack down there?”

Masterson lets out a deep sigh. “Yeah, that’s part of the problem. Just hurry.”

I end the call, run into the bathroom to brush my teeth and throw on gym clothes, then dart out the door. I slow down in front of the elevator bank, then say screw it and tear down the stairs.

Masterson didn’t say what happened with Jack, but there’s a fucking bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and I can’t get down to the lobby fast enough.

Can’t get tohimfast enough.

I push open the door to find crowds of people gathered in the lobby. Sirens wail outside, flashing red and blue lights from cop cars reflecting off the cracked glass entrance doors.

Masterson stands near the door with Tate and a bunch of the guys, peering out the window.

I run toward them. “What the fuck happened?”

Tate nods toward the cops and the angry mob of screaming men and women gathered outside. “We came down here, grabbed coffee and some doughnuts and sat on those couches over there.” He points to a set of sofas off to the side of the entrance. “All of a sudden, the front of the hotel was crawling with people waving fucking gay hate signs. Some of them had pictures of Jack on them.”

My chest tightens. “Where is he now? Did anyone tell him?”

Masterson’s lips tighten as he nods toward the cops right inside the lobby. I crane my neck to see Jack and Coach Enver in the center of the cop circle.

“Jack was coming in from a run, and one of those assholes threw a fucking rock at him. Cracked the side of the glass.”

“Jesus,” I mutter.

“Someone at the front desk had called the cops, but they didn’t get here until after Jack did. He was out for a run and didn’t realize the place was crawling with protesters until he got close. I saw the bruise on his face, and I was afraid someone might have clocked him. He wouldn’t say how it happened when we got inside,” Masterson says.