Shit.
I look to Waylon and hold up a finger. He nods, and I release his hand so I can make my way over.
“Hey,” I call out when I’m close enough.
Jeremy’s head snaps up.
Stepping up next to him so he can hear me, I jerk my head to the side. “Waylon and I were gonna head out, but if—”
Shaking his head, he cuts me off, “No, no, you guys do your thing. We’ll be fine.”
My mouth opens, closes.
He huffs, pocketing his phone. Leveling me with a knowing look, he all but yells to be heard over the thumping bass, “Don’t do that. Ivy’s a big girl. I’m a big boy. We—”
“That’s not—” This time I’m the one cutting off my words.
Jeremy’s mouth tightens. His gaze moves past me to where I feel Waylon standing a little way’s back, waiting for me.
I lean forward so my words are only for Jeremy. “Are you okay?”
His jaw tightens and he gives a stiff nod. “I’m fine.”
“Sure about that?”
Jeremy shrugs. “I dropped some Molly this morning. Just coming down from it now. I’ll be fine.”
That’s one too many fines in such a short period of time.
Frowning, I think back on earlier. I knew Ivy was feeling pretty good, but other than a couple hours where Jeremy genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself, he’s been distant for most of the day. Not that I saw him much during the parade. He and Mason fell back pretty far, and we didn’t see them until the end.
Actually, now that I think about it, it was onlyafterthat, when he seemed to perk up a bit. I assume that’s when the drugs must’ve hit him.
I try not to worry. He’s not Waylon or Mason or Shawn.
I guess it’s just something I think about more now, what with being surrounded by addicts. It’s impossible not to wonder where the line is between recreation and dependence.
Casting a quick glance over my shoulder, I find Waylon staring down at his phone. His thumbs fly across the screen. Perhaps he’s texting the others to see where they’re at. Not that them being back at my parents’ house will stop us—I’ll just take him back up to the attic where no one can hear us—but knowing Waylon, he wants to get an idea of what to prepare for.
“Seriously, man,” Jeremy shouts, “get outta here. Don’t worry about us.”
I meet him head-on once more, studying his brown eyes. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
Not for the first time, I want to pry, but I remember what he said when we last talked about what’s been going on with him and Mason.
“I want to tell you more, but no one else can know. I won’t put you in that position.”
I blow out a sharp breath and nod a couple times, knowing it’s for the best, as much as it sucks. I want to be there for Jeremy. He’s my friend—maybe even my best friend apart from the guy waiting for me.
But knowing Jeremy’s been pining after Mason for years is one thing. It’s not my story to tell after all. Waylon would understand that.
But if something actually happened between them—hell, Iknowsomething happened; I just don’t know what—well, there’s no way I could keep something like that from my boyfriend.
Jeremy’s eyes pinch at the corners, and I get the feeling he knows what I’m thinking. I give him a tight, understanding smile in return, silently conveying with my eyes how much this sucks that I can’t be there for him with this.
He gives a little shake of his head, telling me it’s okay. He gets it. He respects it. It just is what it is.
We say our goodbyes, and I make my way back toward Waylon.
