The Bad Boy and the Other Bad Boy

Chapter 27

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JAX

Denver was already gone when I woke up, probably to breakfast downstairs. The light was just barely coming through the curtains, lighting up his empty, neatly made bed.

I groaned and stretched, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I had barely slept last night. How the hell could I, lying silently beside Denver, trying not to give any indication I was awake. 

I sighed and slid out of the bed, running a hand through my hair, leaving the blankets left in a crumpled pile. Denver was so dumb. Didn't he know about room service? You'd think that he was the poor one out of us. 

Soon I was entering the restaurant, which now had a buffet breakfast spread laid out. I spotted Denver sitting with his mates at a table to my right, and pretended I hadn't.

Ryan joined me on my other side, coming up for a second round of food. "Hey man, still alive after last night with Denver? "He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

"Barely, " I muttered, looking away. 

"What?" said Ryan, grabbing a bread roll straight off the bread roll plate and stuffing it into his mouth. 

"I said, leave some for me. " I reached out and grabbed two rolls.

I had never been to a hotel this nice in my life. They had way too many types of fruit and milk you could have. And cured meat, and cheese. And bread. Who the hell needs seven different types of bread? 

After breakfast, we were sent back upstairs to pack our day bags. Denver had already started, as once again he had gotten there earlier than me. His skin was unmarked - the bruises I had given him were gone. I guess he had used Mrs. Coach's magic stuff. We worked in silence, even as loud cheerful conversation sounded through the walls from our teammates. 

Then Denver cleared his throat. "Here, " he said, chucking something at me. "Yours. " 

I caught it in one hand. It was the sweatshirt I had slept in. It was literally like seven years old, and had been huge on me when I first got it. 

I willed my face not to go red. How had it ended up on his bed? Shit. I must have chucked it when I got changed or something. 

Reflexively, I went to say thanks, then stopped. Should I say thanks? It seemed weird to thank Denver for anything. 

In the end I just nodded at him, and he turned around and kept packing his gear away. 

Fuck. So fucking weird. 

Soon he was finished faster than me, again, and the door to our room clicked closed. 

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, letting my grip on my bag loosen, stopping what I was doing. 

All the tension in the room had vanished the minute he stepped out the door. All the energy, too. I felt drained like I hadn't in weeks. 

I started packing my stuff again slowly. The smell of Denver's deodorant still filled the room. With a jolt, I realised it was the same he had used back when we first hit puberty and needed to. I had used the same as well. Until things went to shit, anyway. 

In the hallway, I caught up with Ryan, who quickly stubbed his lit cigarette into an ashtray, then relaxed when he saw it was me. 

"Could have said something, man. That ciggie wasn't finished," Ryan said regretfully. 

"Dude, you can't smoke in here. " I said, wrinkling my nose. 

Ryan laughed and looked at me weird. "Since when have you gave a shit? Wait, do you not smoke anymore?"