“Of course I do.” We have doubles of everything in each of our apartments. He even has a complete diabetic kit across the hall just in case I sleep at his place.
“Alright, come on,mi sol. I’m starving.” Completely naked, he turns me around, gives me a smack on the ass, and pushes me toward the shower. “If you’re a good boy and eat your breakfast for me, maybe I’ll give you a treat.”
TWO
ANDRES
Jackson sits across from me at the small table in his kitchen nook. Two chairs, a vase of flowers from his sister in the middle—a birthday gift that he’s managed to keep alive. He pulls out my chair, then settles into his own. Our apartments are almost identical in layout and setup. Did we do this on purpose? Honestly, yes.
It’s just easier if everything’s in the same place so we both know our way around. But mostly for Jackson. If he were to ever go low in my apartment, he could easily find whatever he needs. Down to his kit being in the right-side nightstand in my bedroom, where he sleeps.
You’d think we were a couple, but we’re not.I try not to think too hard about why that stings.
We go out—not on dates or anything like that—but we do everything together. We hook up with women, mostly together. It’s easier that way. Less to think about. On the rare occasions we’ve each brought one home, they never stay the night. After they leave, one of us almost always crawls into the other’s bed. I almost never get a good night's sleep when I’m not with him.
I spend most of the night awake, worrying about his blood sugar. Whether he ate enough before bed. Whether his pump might malfunction in the middle of the night. Things a best friend should worry about. And things he shouldn’t. I've stopped pretending I know which is which.
At least not at the level I do.
I’m anxious to the point where I took over meal prepping and do all the cooking for both of us. Every meal has the nutrition facts written on the whiteboard on our fridges. Just so it’s easier.
Not being in his bed last night already made sleeping hard. Then the Share app jolting me awake with a low alert—right after I'd finally drifted off—sealed it. We need to just stick together.
“So.” Jackson smiles up at me as I set the plate in front of him. “Can we go out again tonight if I promise not to drink? We missed out on bringing that chick home because of Kai and Isla.”
I groan and sit across from him with my own plate. “You got some action, if I recall.” I wink at him.
“I think you mean you. I didn’t get to come.”
Jackson starts eating without bolusing. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I open his pump app, add in his carbs and his blood sugar, and give him his insulin. His pump vibrates, and he shoots me an irritated look.
“You know I am capable of taking care of myself.” He rolls his eyes at me, which makes me click my tongue.
Jackson is the biggest brat.
And he knows exactly how much I let him get away with.
“So then show me you can take care of yourself.”I nudge him with my foot under the table, bringing his eyes up to mine. His gorgeous ice-blue eyes. The ones I want to drown in.
No, stop it.
You do not want to drown in his eyes. Liar.
“It’s not always that easy, Dre. You know that.” He scoffs, spearing the strawberry and bringing it to his lips.
Stop staring at his mouth.
I sit back and sip my coffee, barely touching my own eggs, watching to make sure he eats all of his. “Can you try?”
“If I say that I will, can we go out tonight?” He gives me the pouty lip, and I nod. “Yes! Should we see if the guys want to go out or just tag team it?” He snorts at his own statement.
“Just us. We don’t want some poor girl thinking she’s walking into a gang bang with almost the whole infield of the Coyotes.” Because we have totally had that happen in the past.
Awkward was an understatement.
“I’m pretty sure Kai is going to be occupied for the foreseeable future, and Gael was acting weird.” Jackson pushes his empty plate away, and I beam at him.
“Mike and Brooks have been fucking around too.” I stand, grabbing his plate and walking it to the sink.
