By Chance (Courtland Chronicles) (12 page)

Naturally, once he’d downed a couple of aspirin and crawled inside his sleeping bag, he lay there wide awake, an awful depression sweeping over him. He sat up when Ally emerged from the hallway with a blanket and pillow, then started making up a bed for herself on the couch.

“You don’t have to sleep out here on my account,” he said. “I haven’t been scared of the dark since I was ten.”

“This is where I always sleep. There’s only one bedroom, and since this is Holly’s sister’s place, she gets dibs. It’s not that bad. At least the TV’s out here.”

They flicked out the lights, but after an hour of them both tossing and turning, they ended up bundled together on the couch watching the late-night TV. When the last show was over, Ally flicked off the remote with a contented sigh. “It’s been a long time since we stayed up late watching talk shows. It’s one of the things I miss about not being suitemates anymore.”

“Me too,” he replied. Except for Ally, he’d lost track of the people he used to hang out with. Eric had taken over his life from the day he’d moved in. “Know what else I miss? Stealing the towels from the communal bathroom whenever that dick Todd Hobart took a shower.”

She burst out in giggles. “Oh, God, I remember the first time you did that! He ran drip-drip-dripping down the hall with his hands clamped over his junk, because you’d swiped his bathrobe too!” Wiping at her eyes, she added, “How many times did you pull that on him? Did he ever figure out it was you?”

“Nah, he’s as stupid as he is mean. And I’m not the only guy he’s called a fag. He’s probably got enemies all over campus.”

“He
what
?” She sat up straight. “You never told me that.”

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I hated the guy so much?”

“I figured it was because he was an asshole. But since we’re on the subject, there’s some juicy gossip floating around about him.” Leaning in closer, she whispered, “There’s a men’s room over in the science building that’s one of the most notorious gay cruising spots on campus. Evidently Hobart’s quite the habitué. There’s a list of his greatest hits scrawled above the second urinal from the end. Or, um…” She cleared her throat. “So I’ve been told.”

He stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

“I swear to God. I mean, how hilarious is that? The most dimwitted, uber-macho, homophobic fucktard on campus turns out to be a big fat closet case.”

They burst out laughing again. “Wish I’d known freshman year,” Nick said. “I could’ve made his life a lot more interesting.”

“What’s stopping you now?”

“I’ve had enough drama in my life lately. All I want is to keep my head down and get through the next couple of months.”

She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m really sorry about you and Eric. It tears me up inside, seeing you so sad.”

“Thanks.” He planted a kiss on the crown of her head. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

“You’ll be okay.” She smiled, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Just give it time.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably be over it by the time I’m forty.” He tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a cough, quickly stifled by her finger over his mouth.

“Don’t,” she whispered, even as they leaned in closer, their lips touching—

He pulled back instantly at the shock of it, his heart pounding. “God, Ally, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I know.” She turned away, reaching for a nearby box of tissues. Was he imagining it, or were her shoulders trembling?

He slid his arm around her, pulling her close again. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I, but I’m not ready to play rebound girl.” She looked up at him, eyes still shiny. “You deserve to be happy, Nick. Even if it’s not with me.”

Took a moment before Nick realized what she meant. Jesus, how could he be so fucking
dense
? “Eric said you were carrying a torch for me, but I thought he was kidding.”

“Not a torch. More like a Zippo.” Smiling, she kissed him on the cheek. “It’s all right. I’d rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.”

Now his eyes were stinging. “I love you, Ally. You know that, right?”

“I love you too. Always will.”

* * *

Eric spent the entire night alternating between punching his pillow and pacing the floor. When the sun started poking through the curtains, he decided to go for a walk. At least outside, he could get fresh air and a dose of noise. It was too damn quiet inside without Nick.

The Greek deli had just opened, so he dashed inside for some coffee, then continued on down the street. His argument with Nick roiled in his mind, making him cringe. The old Eric had returned in full force last night, cold and unfeeling, ready to inflict hurt in order to deflect it from himself. Part of him wanted to find Nick and beg his forgiveness, for all the good it would do. After the way he’d behaved, Nick would probably tell him to go to hell. Still, he considered seeking Nick out anyway, if only to plunge the knife in and get it over with.

Instead, here he lingered, trapped in a perfect purgatory of his own device. Dante would no doubt be proud.

Between classes, studying and visiting his mother, he managed to hold the temptation at bay for another week. On Wednesday evening he arrived to find her sitting up in bed, sporting a huge smile.

“Good news,” she announced. “My doctor’s discharging me tomorrow.”

“That’s wonderful.” They’d kept her much longer than usual already, with the past week spent in the psych ward while she underwent various tests, drug and alcohol detox and intensive therapy with a new psychiatrist. While it was a good sign that she’d made such progress, he couldn’t dismiss his concerns. “It’ll be in the morning, I assume? I’ll have to skip my first class, but—”

“I’m touched that you want to be here, darling, but there’s no need. I’ve sweet-talked Estellita into coming down for a while to help me settle in at the hotel. Please don’t miss any more school on my account.”

“That’s fine, but I want to talk to your doctor one last time before you leave. There’s your future therapy to discuss, medication, all kinds of—”

“Is that what you’re worried about? That they’ve given me more pills?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to deny it, but he smothered the urge. There was no point coddling her any longer. If she intended to get well, she’d have to face some hard facts.

“You’d be worried too, Mom. I don’t want to see you back here again in another few months.”

“The only medication I’m taking now is for heart murmur, and I’ve already scheduled an appointment with my new therapist on Monday. So relax, darling. This time it’s going to take, because this time I
want
to be all right.”

A warning bell went off in his head. “Heart murmur? Where did that come from?”

“It’s nothing. The cardiologist said it wasn’t that uncommon. My father had the same thing, and he lived with it for over twenty years. I don’t even remember it bothering him that much.”

“Until he died of a heart attack.”

She threw him an exasperated look. “Be that as it may, I’ve decided not to go back up to the house this summer. I’d rather not interrupt my therapy. In fact, I’ve made an offer on an apartment. Hotel living’s grown rather wearisome, and besides, you’ll need a room of your own once school lets out.”

A pang of disappointment sailed through him. He’d been looking forward to spending the summer in Geneva, with Nick only a few miles away. Well, at least now he could spare himself that torment.

He hailed a taxi back to campus and trudged wearily to the dining hall. He was about to pick up a tray when he saw Nick and Ally standing at the front of the line. Luckily, they hadn’t seen him yet, so he pivoted on his heel and headed outside.

He’d intended to go back to his room, but something wouldn’t let him. Instead, he sat down at one of the outdoor tables, yanked up the hood of his jacket and peered into the hall. Sure enough, there were Nick and Ally sitting at their usual table, chatting away as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened over the past week.

His breath stopped in his lungs when Nick burst out laughing at something Ally said, then reached over to pluck an invisible speck off her cheek. When had Nick ever done that before?

Common sense screamed at him to get up and leave, but he stayed where he was until he saw them exit the hall and start strolling arm in arm toward Butler library. When Ally stood up on her tiptoes, obviously about to kiss Nick right on the lips, Eric finally fled, racing back to his room on legs so wobbly he nearly fell flat on his face climbing the stairs.

* * *

Eric made himself some soup, then tried to study, but it was impossible. The silence was driving him crazy. At last he gave up, slamming his book shut with a grunt of disgust.

He flopped onto the bed and let his eyes drift shut, one hand moving lazily toward his crotch. Didn’t take long before he had a decent hard-on, but the thought of solitary self-abuse struck him as especially pathetic.

Suddenly he recalled a nightclub he, Nick and Ally had strolled past on their explorations down in Chelsea. From the long lines snaking around the block, the place was obviously quite popular. He’d never explored the gay club scene before—or any club scene, for that matter—but what the hell. Had to be better than lying here brooding over the former so-called love of his life, who’d evidently taken ten whole days to mourn the demise of their relationship before moving on.

He didn’t remember the name of the place, but luckily, the cab driver knew where it was, and soon Eric found himself walking up Eighth Avenue toward Midnight Sun. The bouncer pocketed his discreetly proffered bribe, giving his fake ID a cursory glance before waving him in ahead of the line.

The place was fairly crowded for a weeknight, with bodies pressed in like sardines on the dance floor and stacked three-deep around the bar. Music pulsed, pounded and swirled through the sound system, loud enough to make Eric’s hair hurt. The lights were dialed down low, except for multicolored strobes bright enough to bring on an epileptic fit. Good thing he hadn’t come here for the atmosphere.

Anxiety gripped him as he pushed his way through the crush of bodies around the bar, but fortunately, the bartenders were lightning fast, not to mention
hot
.

Eric slipped a generous tip to the tall dark-haired guy in skintight jeans who’d poured his double scotch, and to his surprise, received a genuine “Thanks, dude” in return. When he circulated back to Eric’s end of the bar a few minutes later, he leaned across and asked, “Not to sound cliché, but have we met someplace before?”

Eric chuckled, less jittery now that he’d downed half his drink. “If that’s your way of asking if this is my first time here, the answer’s yes.”

“Ah, a virgin. I like that in a guy.” The bartender licked his lips, and the crotch of Eric’s jeans grew tighter. “If you’re interested, I get off work in about half an hour.”

At first, Eric thought the guy was inviting him for a drink or a dance, but the gleam in his eyes promptly disabused him of that notion. “Are you the official welcome wagon, or did I just win the trifecta?”

“Working up front here, you get first crack at all the hot new guys. It’s one of my favorite fringe benefits of the job.” He grinned. “Along with tips and free booze. Anyway, how about it?”

So it was more that he was fresh meat, rather than anything special. As long as he got his itch scratched, Eric didn’t particularly care. “If I’m still sitting here when you get off, consider it a date.”

“I’m counting on it.” With a wink, he wandered off to mix more drinks.

The place grew much noisier and more crowded while Eric sat there, the dance floor so densely packed that if somebody fainted, they’d be held upright by all the gyrating bodies.
Breathe, damn it, breathe—or get the hell out. There’s no law saying you have to stay.

He inhaled deeply, trying to quell his rising nervousness with his last mouthful of Johnnie Walker. Sure, he could leave, but then what? Run back to his lonely, too-quiet room? No. He’d made it this far. And what was he so afraid of, anyway? Nobody was going to assault him in the middle of a crowded nightclub.

“Hey.” The bartender appeared, on the other side of the bar this time, minus his apron and towel. He’d changed out of the club T-shirt he’d been wearing into a black tank top that looked painted on, his nipples poking through the fabric like steel rivets. His hands skimmed Eric’s hips, drawing him in closer, rubbing their crotches together. It was apparently the same routine as in any men’s room pickup—see what you want, and reach for it. “Wanna take a walk to the back?”

Stupid question. What else was he here for? “Sure.”

The music was so loud at the rear of the club it made Eric’s teeth rattle, a slow, dull throb blooming over his right eye. The back room itself wasn’t much different from any public toilet he’d been in, except for the lack of stalls. Writhing, naked bodies shone sickly blue under harsh fluorescents, the air punctuated with moans, yelps and the unmistakable stale sweat-sock stink of poppers.

There was evidently no etiquette here, other than finding an empty patch of wall. The bartender cocked his head toward a likely spot, and Eric followed.

“What’re you into?” he asked, leaning in for a kiss. Eric turned his head in time to avoid it, thankful the guy hadn’t insisted on exchanging names. “Guess that’s my answer.”

“No kissing,” Eric said. “Fucking and sucking, that’s another story.”

“Top or bottom?”

Eric’s breath hitched, his mind spinning back to where he’d been two weeks ago, and with whom. “Bottom.”

The bartender dug in his pocket for condoms and lube. “Looks like you’re not that hot on the preliminaries, so why don’t we get right to it?”

Eric turned, fingers trembling as he undid his pants, then braced himself against the wall with both hands, tuning out everything except the roar of blood in his ears and the cock entering his ass.

How perfectly fucking ironic that, a few short weeks ago, he would’ve never dreamed of visiting a place like this. One more thing he had Nick to thank for.