“There you are,” his roommate answered.
“Can you hear me?” he whispered. “I have to be quiet.”
“Is it raining?”
“It’s the shower.”
“Are you hiding in the bathroom?” Remington asked. “Please don’t tell me you’re naked.”
“Yes, and not yet.” He stood up and stared at himself in the mirror, wisps of steam already starting to work their way up toward the ceiling.
“Why are you hiding? You know what I’ve told you before, that hiding from our feelings only serves to exacerbate our emotional turmoil and that you really should just have a conversation, Jace. So much can be fixed with a simple conversation.”
“I’m not having a conversation,” he said.
“You’re having one with me.”
“Not with him.” Jace sat back down on the toilet. “He gets me…flustered.”
“I can tell. You know, Jace, the reason you’re feeling that way is probably because…”
“Stop.” He cut Remington off. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Why did you call then?”
“Remember the night I told you about this whole horrible idea?” he asked, not stopping for Remington to answer. “I went out that night and I met him.”
“What?”
“He was at Lion,” Jace continued. “I met him in line for the bathrooms and I tried to hook up with him.”
“And instead he shot you down and you came home alone,” Remington said.
“He didn’t…” Jace paused. He wouldn’t characterize what had transpired at Lion as Callahan shooting him down, but it definitely hadn’t been a green light. Then again, Callahan had looked like he wanted to be anywhere besides the club even if he’d wanted to be somewhere beneath Jace. “He didn’t shoot me down, but he wasn’t as eager as I like my partners to be.”
“And considering you still went and got on this plane, I would assume that you didn’t know who he was at the time.”
“Right.” Jace cracked his neck and caught the top of his head in the reflection in the mirror. The whole bathroom was nearly filled with steam now and he hadn’t even taken off his clothes.
“Does he remember you?”
“Oh, yeah.” He held the phone against his shoulder and worked open the fly on his pants, shoving them down and stepping out of them.
“Does he hate you?”
There was no way Callahan hated him, but he didn’t think Callahan liked him that much either.
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, that’s helpful. You know, if you could ratchet down the innuendo, like, four clicks, you might have a chance with him.”
“I don’t want a chance,” he whisper-yelled. He bit the inside of his cheek and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t want a chance. I just want to survive this weekend and come home to you.”
“That’s sweet, but you know you’re not my type.” Remington chuckled in his ear.
“I have to go to dinner with him and his ex and whoever else tonight,” Jace said, staring at the spray from the shower head. The whole bathroom was really nice, with loads of smooth white marble and polished fixtures. “This shower, by the way, is the size of our whole bathroom.”
“Enjoy it,” Remington told him. “Do the best with what you have, Jace. The saying goes ‘play the hand you’ve been dealt,’ right? And you’ve been dealt a lot of shitty hands, but this one seems okay, yeah?”
