The Quarterback, Outcast and Me ✔

Chapter Twenty-Eight - A New Year

"Chloe, could you please just look at me?" Jace pleaded for the 100th time as we cleaned up the house after last night's party. I hadn't said one word to him since I had stormed out of the kitchen after slapping him. I couldn't make myself look at him after what he had said.

It was even worse that I had woken up in my bed alone. Sometime during the night, Caleb had woken up and left. I hadn't even received a text or anything to let me know that he was okay. I just had to guess, since he hadn't replied to any of my messages.

Jace and I had spent the entire day in utter silence, from my side at least. I was cleaning the kitchen whilst he took care of the living room. Hours passed, the sun began to set, as crumbled cups and empty bottles were gathered and trash bags filled to the top were carried out to the dumpsters.

Music was playing through the stereo, not allowing complete silence to unfold.

I didn't know how to talk to Jace, nor if I even wanted to. It would probably have to happen if our parents wasn't to find out what had happened and they definitely didn't need to know about any of it.

After I finished cleaning the kitchen spotless, I found Jace standing in the doorway, arms full of trash and a lost puppy look on his face. I knew he was hungover, it was evident in the paleness of his skin. Not that I was paying him any attention.

"Chloe I feel so bad for what happened. There aren't enough words in the English speaking language to cover how awful I feel." He just kept standing there, looking so horrible that it was hard not to feel at least some slight form of pity for him. Ugh, damn me and my soft heart.

"Yeah well you should feel awful," I said, leaning against the island counter, arms folded across my chest. "Do you have any idea how much you hurt me last night? It was humiliating!"

Jace ducked his head. "If there's any way for me to make it up to you, you name it. I don't want you not talking to me."

"Jace, I am pissed off at you," I said. It wasn't often that I used that kind of language, but it felt like the appropriate situation to do so.

"And you should. You have every right to. I just want to make it up to you and then one day, maybe, you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."

I hated when he talked like that. It went straight to my heart and rooted there like evil seeds. Damn him.

Jace swayed a little on his feet, looking uncomfortable.

"I think," he started, then paused. "I think I'm gonna be sick." He threw the trash on the floor and stormed out towards the bathroom in the hallway. I ran after him and found him kneeling over the toilet, puking his guts out. I sighed, going back into the kitchen to get a cloth, wetting it with cold water.

"Awful things happen to awful people," I said when I returned, reaching down to place the cloth on his clammy forehead.

"I definitely feel awful right now," he murmured into the ceramic bowl. Now I did feel bad for him. I remembered the time when I had been hungover and how Jace so expertly had taken care of me. It would be crappy of me if I didn't repay the favour, despite how little he deserved it. I could never be that kind of a human being who didn't help a person who needed it.

"Want me to make you some toast?" I asked softly, stroking his blonde hair back to keep the cloth in place.

"Toast sounds like a slice of heaven right now," Jace grunted, not removing his head in case anything else needed to make an appearance. "Thank you," he added.

"Don't mention it."

I made us both some toast and two large glasses of coke and we went into the newly cleaned living room to sit. Jace turned on the tv and found a random movie for us to watch. I'd put two paracetamols on his plate which he gratefully swallowed immediately before beginning on his toast.