Where Clover Whitens (Jalex)

Antimetabole

Yes,

there is always logic in this world.

And neatness. And the comfort

of fact. Did I mention that suicides

outnumber homicides? The figures

are reliable. So stay awhile yet

with me: the person to avoid, alone,

is mostly you yourself.

-Peter Goldsworthy, "A Statistician to His Love"

It was only days later that Alex learned he would have to see Jack and Caitlin again. George Carpenter, Caitlin and Beau's grandfather was throwing a soiree to celebrate the two of them specifically. He was "so proud of them for securing the Richardson account," and he wanted the entire company (and friends and blue-blooded acquaintances and rivals) to honor his grandchildren. It was to be a black-tie affair, and truthfully, Alex was nervous. He'd grown up fairly affluent, but he still hadn't been to many black-tie events. Most of the parties he attended were good with just some black slacks, or even a nice pair of jeans.

Now, here he was, standing in front of the full-length mirror in Beau's bedroom, cursing. He was struggling with his goddamn tie again, which had his mind drifting back to the day of Jack's wedding when he'd sat alone and tried aimlessly to fasten his tie. Well, until Jack came to rescue him.

Alex remembered the way Jack's fingers had deftly draped the tie around his shoulders, his long and guitar string-callused fingers feather-light on his neck. He remembered the way that Jack's fingertips brushed his throat, the way that it had made him shudder. He remembered how he wanted Jack to throw him against the wall of that empty room, press his hand against Alex's throat again, and kiss him until every breath was stolen from his lungs. Like he'd done the day Alex had ruined everything.

Swallowing hard, Alex turned away from the mirror. If he kept thinking about Jack, he was going to cry, and that was simply not the right way to start the day. He was already kind of stressed out. For one, he was about to meet most of Beau's bourgeoisie-ass family for the very first time, and he was terrified of making a faux pas. Sure, he'd done equestrian dressage (mainly so he could pet horses) as a child, but he'd never once taken a cotillion class. He had a good idea of which spoon was for soup and which was for dessert, but what if he didn't? The last thing Alex wanted to do was embarrass himself. Or worse, embarrass Beau. After all, he wanted to impress his boyfriend's family.

Another reason why Alex was anxious was actually because of Beau himself. He'd wanted Alex to stay over the night before, but Alex didn't have a roommate or anything to let his dogs out, and he wasn't going to make them wait all night long to go out. Beau didn't have pets and couldn't seem to understand the concept.

"I'm sure they'll be fine, 'Lex. They're trained. They're not going to piss on the carpet or something."

Alex sighed, shaking his head. "But that's not the issue. I know they're not going to, but I don't want them holding it in for like ten hours. Not only is it cruel, it's bad for them."

Beau rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall in his foyer. Alex was sliding on his black Chuck Taylors by the front door. "If you don't want to spend time with me, you can just fucking tell me, Alex. You don't have to lie and use your dogs as an excuse."

This was becoming a pattern and Alex felt awful for it. He didn't know what he had done to make Beau feel like he wasn't good enough for him, that he would always rather be away from him.

"Baby, no," Alex whispered as he finished his lacing his shoes. He crossed the foyer to wrap his arms around Beau's neck. His boyfriend turned his face away from him and Alex's heart sank. Alex whined, out of both frustration and anxiety, but he didn't let go of Beau. "I promise I want to spend time with you. Please don't be mad at me."