Page 24 of Catch
The idea that Gage might hook up with Jett makes me ragey. I can’t explain it, I don’t understand it, but there’s no denying it.
“You really need to mind your own,” Jett states, turning to face me and crossing his arms. “Gage and I were having a private conversation.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Like I said, it’s none of your business,” Jett drawls. “And I don’t know what your fucking problem with me is, but you need to get over it.”
I step closer and meet his glare head-on.
“My problem? You’re the one who acts like I’m beneath you.”
“And you act like everything’s a joke.”
Suddenly I notice that Gage is gone. Jett and I are arguing alone in the hallway. Huh, I didn’t even notice my friend walking away.
“Now I really am leaving,” Jett continues and pushes off the wall. His eyes are so intense that it’s almost painful for me to look at him. “And FYI, Gage and I were talking about the queer support group on campus. He volunteers and was asking me if I’d help out at a future event. I have no desire to get in his pants. And even if I did, it’s nothing to you.”
Jett turns and starts toward the front door, but despite histongue-lashing, I can’t help but follow him. I’m pissed and confused and yet I don’t want him to go.
“I’m looking out for him,” I explain. “Any friend would.”
I’m grasping at straws here, but I’ve come this far, and I hate to back down from any argument. Even one that doesn’t make total sense. Since when do I care who my friends fuck around with? I usually mind my own, and it works both ways.
Jett pauses and looks at me over his shoulder.
“He’s a big boy, Ethan. I think he’ll be okay.”
Then he looks away again and starts walking.
“Don’t go.”
I want to grab his shoulders and tell him to turn around.
Look at me, for fuck’s sake!
He pauses again. “Why?”
“Because… because…” I stammer. Why can’t I find my goddamn words? “Can you look at me, please?”
Jett slowly turns around.
Under the dim lights in the hallway, every angle of his taut body is highlighted, and Silas is right: Jett is unquestionably hot. I can’t believe I’m thinking it, never mind noticing every detail, especially the way his jeans mold to his thighs, and the way they cup his…
What the fuck?
I quickly glance up at his face and that’s no better. The sad expression is back, and it hits me right in the gut.
“Don’t go.”
“Alright,” he whispers. “But only if you apologize for acting like an ass.”
Saying sorry is admitting I’m in the wrong. I don’t think I can do it.
“Aren’t you protective of your friends?”
“You can’t do it, can you?” he replies, his lips curling into a knowing grin.
“If I promise not to do it again, will you stay?” That’s myversion of apologizing, take it or leave it. “After all, I can’t ruin my reputation for hospitality.”
