Just as we were exiting, he threw his arm around my shoulder. “I’d even let you suck me off again if you needed to, because I’m a good friend like that.”
I laughed at him, slapping his chest. “Oh, fuck off, Jackson.”
“Hey, I’m trying,” he said laughing with me.
We had just reached the bar when I lifted my eyes and they clashed with a familiar pair of blue ones. I immediately started to smile, excited to see Callum when I took in how his eyes were harder than I’d ever seen them. He held my stare as he lifted the glass filled with amber liquid and drank until it was empty. I flinched when he dropped it harder than necessary. My skin prickled with foreboding nerves when he stood and had to hold onto the bar top to steady himself.
He was drunk.
I slipped between patrons and moved quickly to meet Callum in the middle. I needed to get him out of here as fast as possible. You weren’t allowed to be in Voyeur drunk. He could be kicked out if anyone noticed.
As soon as I reached him, he leaned down, the alcohol on his breath burning my nose, and said, “Have fun fucking Jackson?”
I reeled back like he’d slapped me. “Excuse me?”
He immediately looked away, and shrugged, the muscle in his cheek twitching.
“You just came strolling out of the back with his arm around you and it’s hard to watch.”
“Then don’t watch,” I said, my tone hard.
“I came here for you.” His hand wiped down his face and his shoulders rose and fell over a sigh. “You’re impossible not to watch.”
I didn’t know what was going on with him or why he showed up here drunk, but I needed to get him off the floor. Grabbing his hand, I turned and pulled him behind me, entering one of the empty rooms in the back.
“Is it my turn now,” he mumbled once we entered.
I didn’t even think before my hand snapped out and connected with his cheek. His eyes pinched closed but didn’t move a muscle, the red handprint blooming on his cheek. Tears burned the backs of my eyes, and I blinked to fight them off.
When he finally looked at me, his eyes glossed over with his own pain, but I didn’t understand.
“What’s going on, Callum?”
“Fuck,” he said, burrowing both hands in his hair. “I’m drunk. I’m sorry. I’m jealous.” The words were slurred as they tripped over each other off his tongue.
“That’s no excuse to say that to me.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he said again. “It’s just—it’s just . . .” He trailed off, burying his hands in his hair and tugging, growling in frustration.
“It’s just what, Cal?”
His shoulders dropped as he leaned against a dresser. He looked tired, completely different from the confident man from earlier. When he still didn’t speak, I asked again. “What is it?”
“I’m struggling here, Oaklyn. Voyeur was my place. I had control and now, look at me, being a complete asshole, saying shit I don’t even mean.” His hands moved around, gesturing to the room. “I’m in my comfort zone, and I feel like I’m going out of my mind.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t fucking know,” he exploded, throwing his arms wide, making him stumble away from the desk and lose his balance.
Watching him struggle to stand and get words out, made it clear that tonight was not the night to talk about this. I didn’t understand what was going on, but, honestly, it didn’t seem like he understood it much either.
Not knowing what to say, I stepped forward and linked my fingers with his, moving until barely any space was between us. He dropped his chin to the top of my head before shifting to press his lips to my forehead.
“I’m sorry I came here drunk. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t going to say it was fine, because we both knew it wasn’t.
“I should go.”
I dropped my head to his chest and nodded. Neither of us moved, standing there with each other’s arms wrapped loosely around the other.
“I didn’t fuck him,” I confessed. Because whether he was too drunk to rationalize anything, I needed him to know that. “I’ve never fucked Jackson.”
His hands gripped my cheeks and he made me look at him, his brows furrowed. “But I watched you.”
“It was pretend. We faked the whole thing. He’s never actually gone down on me either.”
He blinked a few times, taking in my confession, and ended up only nodding. However, his eyes seemed to be less tortured than a moment before, and as mad as I was at him, I didn’t want him to hurt.
“I should go,” he said.
“Okay. Get some sleep. And water. Lots of water.”
Cal gave me a small smile, and I lifted up to press a kiss to the dimple on his chin.