An Extra Pump of Sugar

Chapter 27

Theo and I woke up with hangovers from hell, and it took us several hours—and the last of our weed—to quell our symptoms enough to migrate downstairs. Now, the two of us sat across from each other at the hotel diner, skimming the breakfast menu for something that wouldn't expel the contents of our stomachs.

Jay, on the other hand, was as chipper as ever, shamelessly flirting with the waitress and over-tipping every staff member we encountered. I didn't ask about his prurient hotel guest, determined to avoid any unsolicited details, but he looked pretty damn happy for a terminal cancer patient. And honestly, I'd experience this wretched hangover all over again if it meant gifting him the same feeling.

Upon finishing his second cup of coffee, my uncle retired to the hotel room 'to rest,' which was really just Rivas code for 'take a massive shit.' Unfortunately, that left me all alone with Theo, each of us still struggling to work up an appetite—each of us trapped at a booth with nowhere to go and everything to discuss.

The waitress delivered my over hard eggs a few minutes later, and even though I recognized the benefits of consuming cysteine right now, one glance at the plate made me queasy. Meanwhile, Theo didn't even bother with his oatmeal. He just hid his face in his hands, shielding his eyes from the lights overhead and the miserable headache they exacerbated.

I frowned at him, unsure how to break the silence. His confession sat in the back of my brain like old gum I didn't know how to dispose of, and it was all I could think about.

I'm pretty fucking sure I'm falling in love with you, he'd said. But was that actually what he'd intended to blurt out? Or had he meant to say that he loved fucking me?

Was he simply emotionally dyslexic?

We hadn't spoken about it yet, and I was too scared to broach the topic, too afraid he'd confirm his drunken statement. And if that was the case, then what the hell was I supposed to do? End our sexual relationship right here and now? Draw a boundary so true friendship could flourish, as we'd originally proposed? Was there even an alternative?

My gaze settled on his exhausted face and bedhead.

Was I really willing to end this because he'd set our contract aflame? Was he?

"Usually weed helps with the nausea, but it's not doing jack shit for me this morning," he grumbled. He dropped his hands and leaned back against the booth. "How are you faring?"

"I feel like I swallowed insecticide....and like my brain is trying to escape my skull...Shawshank style."

He nodded, sympathizing with my pain. "Did I order another drink at the pool or something? I thought I knew my limits, but I must have lost track. Everything about last night is spotty."

I scanned his face, searching for a flicker of deceit or embarrassment, but there was no indication of dishonesty. "I don't think so. My memories are a little patchy too, though."

Well, that was only half true. Our journey from the Strip to the pool had a few missing pages, but I'd sobered up real quick after Theo dropped his bombshell.

He smiled at me and my nest of tangled, chlorine-treated hair. "I mean, I remember the nipple play. And it would be hard to forget making you cum in a public swimming pool."

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. He said that as if it wasn't the most lascivious thing he could utter aloud.

"But...everything non-boob related is kind of fuzzy," he admitted.

I huffed. "You men really are simple creatures, aren't you?"

"Don't blame me for your powers of seduction."