10. Caleb

TEN

A DISTANT SOUND somewhere in the condo pulled me from the sleep I'd finally succumbed to after the party I'd been dragged to against my will.

It hadn't been all that bad, as it turned out, since the main reason I hadn't wanted to go up and left about thirty minutes in. No surprise there—Travis hadn't exactly been rolling the red carpet out for me since I'd moved in. That his friends had decided to embrace the change seemed to piss him off to no end.

Not that I could blame him.We'd been in a vicious cycle for years now, where the only kind of contact we had was volatile, and now I was trespassing on his turf.

Well, it was my turf too now. It wasn't like I wanted to be there any more than he wanted me there. But there was nothing either of us could do about it, so he needed to get over it or the next year was going to be hell on earth.

A second, much louder sound came from out in the living room, and I looked to my shut door before glancing at the clock on my bedside table—three thirty.

Fucking Travis.

God knew what shape he was in out there if he was running into furniture, or if it was even him. For all I knew, he could have brought someone home with him, and they could be the ones impersonating a bull in a china shop.

I squeezed my eyes shut and wondered if I was going to have to get up and grab my headphones. Travis was hardly the type to come home alone, and with the mood he'd been in lately, this would be the perfect way for him to prove a point.

Nope. I wasn't going to think about that. In fact, I did a quick scan of my room, searching out my headphones just in case I started hearing banging of a different variety echoing through the condo. But when fifteen agonizing minutes passed by and the place remained silent, I figured I was in the clear.

Guessing he'd made it to his room and passed out, I decided to head out and grab myself a glass of water and a couple of Tylenol. Might as well get a head start on the hangover that might creep up and make my Monday extra Monday.

I ran a hand through my hair and pulled open my bedroom door, covering a yawn as I headed down the hall doing my best to be quiet. The last thing I wanted was rouse the beast that had stumbled through our place minutes earlier.

The lights from the surrounding buildings illuminated our place enough that I could make my way to the kitchen. So I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with some water before reaching for the pills and throwing them back.

I was about to head to bed and try to get a couple more hours of sleep when a low groan met my ears and my feet froze in place.

Shit.

My head whipped in the direction of the sound, and for the first time in a long time I sent up a prayer that it was Travis making that noise and not someone else. Or Travis with someone else. Oh God, please don't let it be that.

I waited in the kitchen, so still I might not have even been breathing, and when it became clear I was either going to have to spend the next few hours there or make a mad dash for my bedroom, I decided to make a break for it.

Doing my best not to make a sound, I tiptoed out of the kitchen and was about to make a run for it?—

"Caleb…"

My back immediately stiffened. My name in that voice did things to my insides that I thought had long since passed. When I heard it again, this time followed by a groan, I knew who was on that couch.

Go back to your room, I told myself even as my feet started to turn. Nothing good can come out of going to him. But it was too late—my eyes had already zeroed in on the figure sprawled out on the couch.

From where I stood, Travis was nothing more than shadows and shapes. But his silhouette was one I would recognize anywhere. Booted feet attached to long legs, one that was hanging off the edge of the cushions he'd flopped face-first onto. His shirt had ridden up, showing off his tight-fitting pants, and the arm that had fallen down to the floor had the usual leather cuffs adorning his wrist and bulky rings on his fingers. His face was smashed into the leather, but his styled black hair was a dead giveaway, and as I got closer, I saw his dark lashes resting against his high cheeks.

I let out a sigh as I looked down at him and wondered if we would ever get back to a place where we could be in the same room and not argue. Or was this it? Did one of us have to be passed out for us to exist in peace?

It's be pretty sad if that was the case when at one time he'd been my best friend, the person I shared everything with. But Travis would never let it be that way again, he'd made that clear, and no matter how much I tried to keep things civil, he always pushed us into enemy territory.

Annoyed all over again about my current living situation, and the fact I had no choice about it, I cursed my inability to just walk away and leave him there to sleep off his idiotic behavior. I thought about getting him a glass of water and waking him to take some pills, but maybe a pounding headache would help drum some sense into him.

Instead, I grabbed a blanket out of one of the closets and came back to where he lay in the exact same position.

He'd done this to himself. Couldn't even get through one measly party with me close by. He'd had to go out, get shitfaced as usual, and stumble his way home.

I wasn't sure what that said about how we were going to coexist for the next twelve months, but if that was what it took for him to try to fool himself into thinking he hated me, let him. Seemed exhausting to me.

I bent down and spread the blanket over him, pulling it up under his chin. As he shifted, a loose strand of hair fell into his eyes, and just like that, I was back with my best friend…

TRAV:

Rhid oarty id sjit

It was the fifth message I'd gotten from Travis tonight, each progressively more incoherent. It took a minute, but I finally translated the jumbled mess into: This party is shit.

Guess there was no point in asking if he was having a good night. I didn't even know where he'd gone off to, since I'd had a date tonight, but if his messages were any indication, he was in need of some assistance. Were the other guys not with him?

There was no point writing back, since whatever response he managed would likely be even worse. I turned down the volume on the movie I'd been watching and hit call.

He answered on the third ring. "Caaaleeeb."

A blast of music assaulted my ears, and I pulled the phone away. "Where are you?"

"At a lambast—lame…ass party. Where are yooou?"

"It's two a.m. Where do you think?"

"Hmm. Jen's bed."

What? "It was only a first date."

"Aww, didn't go well?"

"It was fine, I just—" The sound of dry heaving had me sitting up in alarm. "Travis?"

He groaned, and that was it. I was tracking his ass down.

"Are any of the guys there?"

"Nooo."

"Tell me where you are. Or put someone on that can tell me."

He mumbled the name of a bar, and I shoved my shoes back on as I searched the address on my phone. Thank God Dad had gone to visit Vera on location for the weekend, or it would've been a lot more difficult to sneak out.

"Travis? I'm on my way. Okay?"

When he didn't answer, my pulse began to race. That none of our friends were there didn't sit right with me. What if something had happened, or, shit, what if he'd been drugged? What the hell was his sixteen-year-old ass doing at a college party anyway?

Ten minutes later, the taxi dropped me off at the corner, and I handed the driver a few bills. "I'll double it if you wait."

He narrowed his eyes then shrugged. "Need a smoke break anyway. You've got five."

I jumped out and ran toward the entrance, pausing only long enough to flash the fake ID Travis had given me. That thing was finally coming in handy, although maybe Travis wouldn't have gotten himself into this situation at all if he didn't have one.

What was I thinking? All Travis had to do was flash a smile at someone and they'd drop to their knees and do whatever he asked. It was something I both admired and hated about him, because damn if I could ever tell him no either.

I called his phone again, but this time he didn't pick up.

Shit.

I scrolled through my photos until I found one of him that I'd taken not long ago. He was always putting on a fashion show, showing off one of the many outfits he put together, and forced me to watch. Not that it was a hardship, considering he always made it entertaining, and gave me a reason to have an entire "Travis" album in my phone for moments just like this.

"Have you seen this guy?" I yelled out over the music to a group nearby, and when they all shook their heads, I made my way around the room. It was impossible that no one had seen him. Travis wasn't exactly a wallflower, and he was a million times better looking than most people, especially the ones in here. But every answer was the same until I climbed up to the DJ booth and held up Travis's picture. She didn't stop mixing as she glanced at it, then nodded toward a hallway.

God, what did he like about these places? It was hot and loud, and I had to push through too many bodies to count just to get across the room. This was so not my scene.

"Travis?" I pounded on one of the bathroom doors, only to jump back when it opened and a guy twice my size answered with a glare. After a glance behind him to make sure he wasn't holding Travis hostage, I moved on, peering into each of what looked like private VIP rooms.

Come on, where are you? This was taking longer than I thought, and I doubted the taxi was still waiting.

"Travis?" A velvet curtain hung across the entrance to the last room, and when I pulled it back, I saw a lone figure lying across the seating area. "Holy shit, Trav?"

He didn't stir as I ran over and shook him awake. One of his eyes opened, and when he saw it was me, he cracked a half-smile and lifted an arm.

"Caaaleeeb. C'mere."

A wave of relief ran through me, and I sank onto the couch beside him. "You ass."

"Hmm?" His eyes closed again as his smile settled into something more teasing. "You wanna see it?"

"No, I want to get it home. Let's go." I pulled him up to a sitting position and then reached around to hold his waist. "Hold on to me so you don't bust it."

"Yes, Caleb," he said, wrapping his arm loosely around my neck as I helped him stand. That was something. At least I wouldn't have to carry his ass out of here. More like shuffle through the crowd and keep him from falling over.

I didn't realize how claustrophobic it'd been inside until we stepped out into the cool night air and I managed a deep breath. Travis's head fell against my shoulders, his nose skimming my neck.

"You smell good." His breath tickled my skin, causing me to shiver as I scanned the cars for our taxi.

"Yeah, well, you smell like you had too many drinks and threw them up in that VIP room."

"I do not. And I didn't."

"You sure about that?" I adjusted my hand on his waist and hauled him toward the taxi, where the driver was still enjoying a smoke by the hood of the car. He put the cigarette out on the sole of his shoe before climbing back inside.

When I opened the door to shove Travis in, he said, "He gonna be sick in my cab?"

"No."

He grunted, but I didn't care one way or another what he thought as long as he got us both home in one piece.

The second I slid into the back seat and slammed the door, Travis moaned, dropping his forehead to the back of the driver's seat. "Don't feel…so hot."

"It's okay, we'll be home soon. Just breathe." I went to rub his back like that would soothe him, but his shirt was soaked with sweat.

"Need to…lie down."

The driver looked at me over his shoulder with a warning, and I waved him off. "Just get us there fast, please. Trav, come here."

I carefully pulled him down into my lap as we took off, trying to keep him steady so he didn't lose his stomach all over the floorboard—or on me.

"Try to relax, okay?"

"Imma relaxed."

I chuckled as he slurred his words together, his warm breath penetrating the material of my pants where his cheek was smushed up against my thigh.

"Good, won't be long now." I stroked his wild hair, drawing it back from his face so I could make sure he was breathing. But the second my hands touched the long strands, Travis let out a low groan and craned his head up.

"Feels good," he said. "Head's pounding. But that feels so goooood."

"Your head's going to feel a lot worse tomorrow."

He grunted in acknowledgment as I absently ran my fingers to the back of his head and gently massaged it, all the while watching the street signs and calculating just how much time it would take until we were home.

Not too much longer now.

If I could manage to keep him relaxed, we just might make it out of this cab without having to pay to have it detailed the next day. But that would depend a lot on Travis and how he was feeling.

"Trav? You still doing okay?"

When he didn't respond, I angled his face to make sure he was breathing, and thankfully he was, calm and even. He'd fallen asleep.

I let out a sigh and laid his head back down on my lap, trailing my fingers over his cheek and chin. He was doing this a lot more lately. Going out alone. Getting drunk. Calling me for a ride home.

I'd tried to ask him why he didn't just go out with his friends, but in true Travis form he always made some comment about how impossible it would be to hook up if he was busy talking to his friends.

Seemed like an irrelevant point to me, since he only hooked up with guys in clubs, never taking them home or leaving with anyone. Well, anyone except me after he'd gotten too drunk to call a cab.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" I whispered, studying the sharp angles of his face.

I didn't expect any kind of answer, he was off in la-la-alcohol-land, so when he muttered, "You were with Jen," my hand froze.

What did that mean? He got drunk because I was on a date? No. That didn't make sense. Or maybe he meant he got drunk because I wasn't there to stop him. Yeah, well, he could try to blame me all that he wanted. But when he woke up tomorrow, I was going to hand him his ass.

He needed to stop doing this to himself before he really got hurt. He was so much better than this. Better than the string of one-night stands he was working his way through. I just wished he could see it.

As the taxi took the final turn onto Park Avenue, I stroked his hair one last time, then leaned down by his ear and whispered, "We're home, Trav. It's time to wake up."

I BLINKED AND stared down at where my fingers were tangled in ink-black hair and froze.

Where the hell had that come from? I hadn't thought about that night in forever. Now here I was, a little over a week of living with Travis and stroking his damn hair.

He was such a menace to my mind, and even now, passed out on the couch, he was controlling my every thought.

I gently removed my hand, careful not to wake him, and as I slowly backed away I took a final look at the man who was still running around and living life like the sixteen-year-old I'd once known.