20. Knox

CHAPTER TWENTY

Knox

“Whose yacht is this, anyways?”

I chuckle under my breath as I gather the discarded glasses left on the upper deck. “Just a friend’s.”

There’s no way I’m telling Elton that this yacht belongs to Davis. Every now and then, he’ll ask me to throw parties to make some extra money. It always works, considering I have about a couple thousand burning a hole in the money bag I locked in the safe downstairs.

Elton just shrugs, like that answer is enough for him, stuffing more trash into a bag. I told him he didn’t have to help me clean up, but he refused to leave me alone to deal with it all. I guess that was considerate of him. I will admit, having him here today made what would have been a boring as hell day pretty fun. He wasn’t terrible company to have and managed to make polite conversation with everyone who approached me, whereas I would have just snarled until they got their drugs and left me alone.

“So, next time we do this, you have to actually invite the crew,” he says, tying up one large trash bag and moving to grab another. “They would love this. Everest has a thing for boats, you know?”

Yeah, I know. He came to one of these in the past but spent the majority of the day locked in a cabin napping because, while he loves boats, he does get seasick sometimes.

A part of me feels bad for lying to Elton earlier when I told him I barely know his brother, but what the fuck was I supposed to say when he asked if we were friends? Oh, yeah, I’m very familiar with what his face looks like when he comes ? There’s no reason Elton needs to know that his younger brother and I used to be a thing. Fuck, according to Everest, we never were a thing in the first place. How pathetic is that? Either way, that detail is better kept just to myself. I doubt Elton would be too pleased to learn that he’s the man I’m using to get over him is his own sibling. That's a soap-opera-level drama that I can do without.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I say distractedly as I take a rag to wipe off some spilt vodka on Davis’s fancy table.

“Um, you don’t have any friends.”

My back tenses, and I stop mid-wipe. I wait… “Was there supposed to be a question there?”

“It’s just… I don’t know, man. Does that bother you?”

I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”

“Like at all?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a little?”

“ Elton …”

“Because it’s okay if it does,” he rushes out. When I look up, I see that his face is beet red, a nervous glint in his green eyes as he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I mean, I get it. I don’t have many friends either.” To this, I let out a sardonic laugh, and he wrinkles his nose. “What was that noise for?”

“You? No friends?” I scoff, growing a little pissed at him. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? You were the king of our goddamn high school. You were in a frat, for fuck’s sake. And your phone is constantly buzzing with people wanting to hang out with you. How the fuck can you tell me that you don’t have any friends?”

“For starters, it was a business fraternity,” he clarifies firmly before throwing his hands up in the air. “You can still have friends and be…”

I raise my pierced eyebrow when he mumbles something under his breath. Irritated, I bark at him. “Finish your damn sentence.”

“Fuck you! Lonely, okay? You can still have friends and be lonely!” he screams, tossing the trash bag onto the floor as he flops down on the couch. “I’m… I get lonely sometimes. I’m healthy enough to admit that.”

I thought about that once. The idea that Elton might be lonely like me, but I quickly squashed that thought. There’s no way someone like him would be, at least not the way I am. It’s impossible. “How could someone like you be lonely?” I snap. “You’re constantly surrounded by people! You’re literally never alone?—”

“Fine, you’re right. I’m still Mr. Popular, just like I was in high school, and just like I’ll always be,” he says, his voice cracking at the end and… Jesus fucking Christ, is that a tear? “Let’s just keep cleaning up.”

He stands, and I feel like a dick. Who knew I would be the one to see this side of him? Walking over to him, I take the trash bag out of his hands gently and bring him back down on the couch. I wet my lips, not really sure what to do next, just knowing that his damn single tear makes my heart spasm unpleasantly. When I wipe it away angrily with my thumb, I let my fingers linger under his jaw as I tip his head up. “Fuck, my bad. So, you’re lonely?”

Sniffling, he nods as he leans into my touch. “I know I have a lot of people who want to be around me, and it’s great, but it never feels like they want the things I want.”

“What kinds of things do you want?” I ask.

He shrugs, avoiding my eyes as he traces a flamingo on his trunks. “You know, what I thought other people wanted too. I party, but I don’t really like it. I want…a forever person. I want marriage, commitment, and kids. I want someone I can come home to and snuggle with on the couch while we do absolutely nothing. I want a deep connection, but I think I can get too intense and drive people away. Sometimes it seems like they only want the surface-level me.”

It strikes me at this moment that the picture of Elton I have in my head might be entirely wrong. I mean, he is intense, and it can be a lot sometimes. He’s annoyingly cheerful, irritatingly helpful, and an overall people-pleaser. But that’s the thing, he does please. He helps people, makes them happy, but it’s starting to seem like no one ever gives him anything in return.

Before I can stop myself, I’m speaking. “I get lonely too.”

That’s all I say. He doesn’t need to know that all I’ve ever wanted was for people to want me for me . That my family are a bunch of cold assholes who made it clear my only worth was what I could provide them. That I crave the approval of my peers but I… I don’t know how to get it without becoming all hot and itchy.

That he and I truly are more alike than I once thought.

Eyes widening, they brim with tears as he tries to smile through it. “Really?”

My heart clenches at the hope in his voice, the understanding in his eyes, and the way he leans into me like I could potentially be the one to hold him steady. “Yeah, I do.”

“That’s such a ‘friend’ thing to say,” he says through another sniffle, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “You’re being really compassionate, Knox.”

“You…” I grit my teeth, only a bit uncomfortable with what I’m about to say. “You make it easy to be.”

It’s the truth. Elton either has magic dick-sucking lips, or such a strong magnetism that he’s able to make anyone and everyone cave to his wants and wishes. It’s fucking difficult to hate him, especially when he never has one single hateful thing to say about anybody, and when all he seems to want is to be loved. To feel?—

“Thank you, Knox,” he whispers, resting his head on my shoulder. “You made me feel better.”

That’s the first time anyone’s ever said that to me.

And I think I like it.