Another message comes through.
Stacy:
You fucked it up.
Yeah, I did. Like a masochist, I click on what she sent me, and sure enough, photos of Maddox shirtless and opening the door to a shitty roadside motel are splashed all over the same rag site that outed Matt. Maddox is with Matt. In his hometown.
“Guess I know why he didn’t want me to come home with him this weekend,” I mutter to myself.
And the thing is, I can’t even hate him for it. Or blame him. I had my chance, and I pushed him away. We aren’t together; he can do whatever he wants. I told him to go experiment with guys, so I can’t be pissed that he’s doing it.
But I am pissed, even if I don’t have the right to be.
My fingers hover over his name in the texting app. I shouldn’t text. I should leave him alone. Freakishly, with his text window open, he messages me.
Maddox:
Can we set up a time this week to meet? I have something I need to talk to you about.
And just like that, I squash the masochist in me. I don’t want to meet up with Maddox so he can tell me he’s with Matt. Seen the photos, thanks.
Damon:
Finals are kicking my ass. Sorry.
Maddox:
It’s important.
Damon:
So are finals.
I try to tell myself the photos might not mean what I think they mean, but Maddox half-naked in a motel room with his ex? Pretty sure it’s exactly what it looks like.
***
Another week of school over, six more to go, but I’m burned out on studying. So when Noah sends a text with an invite to have a pizza and beer night at his house, I only hesitate for a few minutes before agreeing.
I need a break. If I try to memorize anything else for my upcoming exams, I think I’ll be pushing old information out. Like how to walk and talk properly. I’m at serious risk of turning into a bumbling crazy person who talks in nothing but legislative laws.
I find Wyatt and Noah in Noah’s living room, drinking and playing video games. I have no idea which game, but they’re shooting people; COD, WOW, OMG—who knows. I wasn’t born with the gamer gene.
“Thank fuck,” I say when my friend Aron appears with a beer for me.
“Hi to you too,” he says. “First, you don’t invite me to meet your boy toy, and now you don’t even say hi?”
Aron’s one of the guys I purposefully didn’t invite a few weekends ago because he’s way too hot with his killer smile and would love Maddox.
“Maddox isn’t my boy toy,” I grumble. That honor belongs to Matt-fucking-Jackson. They’ve been in more tabloids this week. Apparently, Matt’s in New York now. Not that I’ve been stalking them in the news or anything …
“Maddox wouldn’t hook up with me because of Damon,” Noah says without taking his eyes off the screen. “Yet, Damon still found a way to fuck it up.”
“Well done, man.” Aron claps me on the back.
“Fuck you very much.”
When Skylar walks through the entrance and our eyes lock, she bites her lip and looks away. I’m about to ask if she’s okay when Maddox trails in behind her. With him.
Great. Just great.
Matt’s got his head down, but he’s wearing a Bulldogs cap. Way to stay incognito, man.
Skylar approaches and hugs me hello, so I lower my head and whisper in her ear. “Traitor.”
“You told me to be friends with him, and that’s what I’m doing.”
Maddox approaches and playfully shoves me. “You’ve been avoiding me again, Dik.”
I wonder if he’s using my nickname or actually calling me a dick. I’ll pretend it’s the former, but I can’t be sure. “Busy.” More beer goes down my throat, and then I watch my bottle intently.
Interesting, it’s a brew from Staten Island. Good to know.
Out of the corner of my eye, Maddox frowns. “Uh, well, are you too busy to meet Matt?” He pulls Matt forward. “I brought him here specifically to meet you.”
Huh? “Why?” I scowl.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Matt says to Maddox. “Just drop it, okay? I should go back to the hotel.”
Yeah, you should. I suppose I should feel sympathy toward him with what he’s going through, but oops, can’t find any fucks to give.
“No,” Maddox says. He turns to the group. “Everyone, this is Matt. Be nice.” Then his blue eyes bore into me. Their usual crystal clarity is dulled by a stormy grey. “Damon, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Nah, I’m cool here.” Being an asshole sucks.
“I’m sorry,” Maddox says sarcastically, “that wasn’t a request.”
“Oooh, someone’s in trouble,” Noah singsongs. “Take him upstairs. First door on your right.”
“Thanks,” Maddox says and grabs my forearm. I hand off my beer to Aron as I’m dragged into Noah’s guestroom—a room I’ve crashed in many times when I couldn’t be bothered going home. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Maddox yelling. This is new.