Who the fuck is this guy and why does Jack look so damn happy, sitting all alone in here with him?

When Lizzy Mae said he was in the library with ‘that gorgeous historian from Richmond,’ I thought she was pulling my leg, trying to get my goat. But this guy is gorgeous, and he’s smiling, his hand just inches away from Jack’s, looking like he’s about to reach out and take possession.

“Hey,” Jack says, lifting his hand, palm up to me. “I’ve been here, laying low. This is Paul, a friend of Nikki’s. Paul, this is Dillon.”

He didn’t introduce me as his boyfriend.

I step forward, accepting Paul’s outstretched hand to shake, putting on more grip than is customary. Feeling the guy’s bones start to compress, I finally let go then lean down low, planting a lingering kiss on Jack’s lips, catching him entirely off-guard.

Let Paul get a look at that. He needs to take the hint and back off.

“It’s late,” I say, not quite pulling away from my stolen kiss.

“Aw, come on. Don’t go yet,” Paul croons, unfazed by my display. “Jack and I were just getting warmed up with a philosophical deconstruction of repressed homoeroticism on the Victorian-era battlefield.”

I turn my head to Paul, cocking it to one side, lifting an eyebrow. “Is that right?” I ask, pretty sure I want to shove a sofa cushion down this guy’s throat. “You might have to find someone else to take that line up with, as I’m just about to haul this one home and do some hands-on research of my own.”

“Easy, cowboy,” Jack half-laughs, placing his hand over mine. “You’ve clearly been at the party too long. You’re right, it’s time to go.”

Paul remains nonchalant, just grinning at us like we’re cute—or something. From his billfold he produces a card, casually handing it to Jack.

“If you’re ever in the neighborhood, look me up,” he says. “All my numbers are there. I really enjoyed tonight. A lot more than I thought I would when Nikki invited me. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

Isn’t that what Jack said? Shit.

Jack takes the card cautiously, keeping his eyes straight ahead. I catch my breath, as my temperature rises and my pulse thunders through my veins. I feel like I’m ready to pounce. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself against the rising tide of anger within me.

“Thanks,” Jack says, sliding the card in his hip pocket, then peering up at me. “We really should go.”

“Good to meet you, Dillon,” Paul quips, grinning at me. “Take care of your boyfriend there. He’s something else.”

“And you would know,” I say idiotically, pointing at Paul.

Shit shit shit. Does Jack want to stay with this douche canoe, talking about art and wars and stuff? Do I need to be watching more documentaries?

Jack is off the couch and pulling me toward the door before I can say or do anything stupid. That guy was hitting on Jack and goading me to do anything about it. I hate guys like that—slicker than eel shit, ready to slide in between the cracks and gobble up unsuspecting prey before they even know what happened.

“That guy was a player,” I snap at Jack while he leads me on my slightly wobbly legs out the front door toward my car. “And you were playing right into his hands.”

Jack rolls his eyes at me but says nothing at all. Once inside the car, he turns the stereo up, rolls down the windows, and pulls off without a word. He’s either pissed that I interrupted his little tête-à-tête with Paul, or he’s gloating that I’m pissed-off about it.

“Did you like that guy?” I ask pointedly, turning the stereo down. “Seriously?”

Jack glances at me, then returns his attention to the road ahead. “You’re drunk,” he says.

“I’m not so drunk I can’t tell when some random dude is flirting with my boyfriend, or that my boyfriend is lapping it up.”

“Oh, I’m your boyfriend,” Jack says calmly. “I was never informed.”

I don’t respond to that. Instead, I’m drunkenly picking my way through my own memories. I said it to him. I must have. I did, didn’t I? I’d be an idiot not to say that to someone I care about, right?

Jack shakes his head. “He wasn’t flirting. We were talking. It’s a thing people do when they meet at parties.”

“It’s a thing people do when they meet at parties, about twenty minutes before they’re naked—with my boyfriend,” I say. “God dammit, Jack. That guy wanted you. It was written all over him. Is that what you wanted too?”

Jack’s jaw clenches tight. His knuckles go white, gripping the steering wheel. He says nothing. My gut clenches. I knew this was inevitable. He’s going to break up with me. He’s already looking around for what’s next.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Perfect. You’re ditching me. You’re breaking up.”

Jack turns the corner, pointing the car toward my house down the block. He keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead until he’s in the driveway, parked, engine off. Once we’re enveloped in silence, with nothing but the sound of crickets chirping outside the windows, he turns to me, his eyes shaded in shadows, his hands still gripping the wheel.

“I don’t see how I can break up with you,” he says, his tone thin. “I’m not entirely sure what we’re even doing. You ask me to come to this party with you, and you just wander off into the crowd, leaving me standing alone surrounded by strangers.

“You’re the one who wanted to keep it chill—your word, not mine,” he continues, building steam. “So, I’ve been chill. I’m not pushing you for anything. I’m just waiting for you to wake up and notice me or wake up and realize I’m not what you want and tell me to go away. You don’t get to have it both ways. You don’t get to keep me at arms-length when you want, then turn into Mr. Possessive when you see me paying attention to somebody else while you’ve spent three hours ignoring me.”

Jesus, is that what Jack thinks?

“That’s not how it is,” I say, feeling the alcohol fuzzing my brain. “That’s not how I want it to be.”

“Well, exactly how do you want it to be?” Jack asks. “Because we’ve been at this thing almost two months, and just now, it was the first time I ever heard you call me your boyfriend. And you only did that because you’re jealous and want to stake your turf.”

Shit, he’s right. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s spot-on.

“It’s not even that I mind you staking turf, as long as I know you mean it. But Dillon, every time I think we’re getting closer, you push me away, just like you left me tonight. You don’t need me, or anyone. You’re completely self-contained. If that works for you, I’m not going to get in your way. It doesn’t work for me. I need to be more than your fuck-buddy. I need a lot more.”

“I don’t know what to say.” My throat tightens, and I swallow. Everything seems blurred around the edges, like I’m having this conversation from somewhere very far away.

I don’t know what to do. Jack is the best thing to come into my life in forever, but I don’t know if I’m even capable of being half of a couple. I see Gil and Kendall doing it so well. Nikki and Fox have it down. But since Gil walked out of my life, the whole idea of that seemed pointless and terrifying.

“You’ve got nothing to say,” Jacks whispers in the dark, looking away from me. “Okay. That says it all.”

His hand drops from the steering wheel to the door latch.

Jesus, he’s leaving.

He pops the latch, opening the door, about to step out. Instinctively my hand goes to his knee. “No, wait,” I say, my breath hitching in my throat. “Stay. Hear me out.”

The silence folds around us like a shroud. My palms sweat. My heart beats like booming bass drum inside my head.

“I’m listening,” Jack says, eyes cast straight ahead.

“Look,” I begin haltingly. “I don’t really know how to do this. I’ve never been boyfriend material.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jack huffs.

“It’s not,” I say. “A long time ago, ten years or more, I was with someone I really loved. I thought we were forever. It felt to me like we should have been. But he didn’t feel the same. When he left, it just fucked me up. It messed with my head. I’ve never let myself get that close with anyone since. I’m… I’m scared. I… I don’t ever want to have something that feels so right, and then have it just walk out of my life.”

Jack sighs. “And all this time I just assumed you were a cold-hearted player. At least I know you’re capable of feeling. I was starting to wonder.”

His words sting me. If he only knew just how deep, and how much it hurts when I let myself go there.

“Give me a little time,” I ask. “Time to wrap my head around it, to remember how to take a risk.”

Jacks nods, biting his lip. “Take all the time you need,” he says, his voice soft but cool. “Let me know what you decide.”

He slips the key out of the car’s ignition, handing it to me, then shoves the door open with his knee. “Probably see you at work tomorrow. Get some sleep.”

“Don’t go, Jack,” I plead. “Stay tonight.”

He shakes his head, blinking hard, tears moistening his eyes. “You need to sleep,” he says. “So do I. And we both have stuff to figure out.”

A second later he’s strolling down the driveway toward his own car parked on the street. A moment after that, he’s just a pair of tail lights disappearing into the night. He’s gone, and I don’t know if he’ll ever come back. The sound of lonely crickets makes my heart ache.

I never let him in.

I kept him at arms-length, and damned if it doesn’t hurt anyway.