Far From Home - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Halloween Night
"Will you do shots with me?"
Rose's hand was on his shoulder and her cheeks were flushed red from the mixed heat of the party and the rush of alcohol, but there was nothing mistaking her friendly smile as she seemed to bounce a little with the same boundless energy she had when Jake walked in. For someone so small, she was handling her alcohol extremely well. Jake had watched her finish a White Claw five minutes ago, and knock down a couple of shots with Blake before that, but now she was up and at it again and trying to drag him along. Her request seemed innocent enough, but Jake knew himself well enough to consider his third beer his last unless he wanted to end up doing something he regretted once he crossed the line from a barely-there buzz to questionably tipsy. Drunk was a word not on Jake's radar tonight if he had any semblance of self-control left not to pick a fight with The Asshole or say something to Connor that he would absolutely regret.
So he smiled and shook his head. "No."
She frowned back, but didn't push him.
"Kris bought this raspberry Smirnoff..." She reached over the counter they were sitting at to grab the clear bottle. "I need to try it, but it sounds kinda nasty in my opinion."
"If you think it's gonna be gross, why are you trying it?" Jake shuffled on his stool to let her lean across the countertop with ease.
"For the experience."
Jake caught on to the fact that the line's delivery was absolutely meant to mock Camilla, even if her friend wasn't in the room. Camilla was somewhere out back smoking weed around a campfire, but Jake didn't care too much to try that tonight, if he ever got around to trying it at all. He steered clear of the backyard so he didn't get dragged into it by one of Camilla's convincing glares and decided to make sure Rose wasn't left completely to her own devices while Nat and Blake had disappeared to God-knows-where.
He had purposefully avoided Kris all night long, throwing her fake smiles every time he caught her eye, but not daring to go anywhere closer. As long as she stayed tied up with Connor, she was in dangerous territory that Jake wouldn't dare to set foot in. A part of him wished he had asked more questions about who she was dragging along into her costume idea when they had talked about it that night at dinner, but any good that would have done him was not worth dwelling on now. How was he supposed to know that out of all the sixty-five thousand students on campus Kris could have befriended, she ended up with Connor Morgan?
Fucking fate, I guess.
The Dobovic twins had ended up with two halves of a pair. He wondered after tonight if Nat and Kris would get a good laugh out of how the hell they managed to pick the two exes out of a crowd, but he wasn't decided if Nat would even tell her sister to begin with. She seemed to hold a decent deal of respect and trust—it would just be a test of how far that would go before her interest in his past with Connor got the best of her to where she would crack. Camilla would certainly get a kick out of it, especially once she had realized she had called Jake's sex life wrong. Well, 'sex life' is a bold term. He figured it was something closer to romantic endeavors.
Beside him, Rose knocked back her first shot with a grimace and Jake laughed as her shoulders shook it off.
"That was disgusting."
She set her tiny plastic 'shot glass' down on the counter, and unscrewed the vodka bottle cap again. A second shot was poured and Jake was left with no other choice but to sit and watch in ridicule as she tipped another serving up to her lips.
"Why would you do that?" He shook his head.
Rose faked vomiting as she tightly screwed the bottle cap back on after her second 'experience.'
"To see if I changed my mind." Her nose scrunched up under her glasses. "I didn't."
"You are your own worst nightmare."
"I know."
Jake shook his head once more over Rose's self-menacing behavior as he pushed the last sip of his beer to his lips. It went down too fast, and when the flavor had subsided, he almost reached across the counter for another. Nope, three Jake. Only three. Sighing at how he failed to pace out his alcohol experience to make the night a bit more bearable, he tapped his empty can out along the countertop and listened for the faint sound it let behind. He couldn't hear much of it over the sound of Britney Spears' voice singing 'Toxic' in the next room, flooding his head with a subtle reminder of his sister's early 2000's pop obsession.
Britney Spears, Beyoncé, Justin Timberlake... he had heard it all. It was a phase that never left. Any night of the week, McKenna could be heard throwing a private concert in the shower to any number of the songs that played on the radio when they were too young to remember them. Jake hated that he actually knew the words to 'Toxic,' but the shit was catchy whether he wanted to admit it or not. At this point, he was just glad he managed to keep humming along to the confines of his own mind and not let it escape his throat.
Brushing past his right arm, a hand reached out to the variation of liquor bottles sitting on the counter in front of him. Jake might not have given it a second thought, but he would recognize that hand anywhere—the watch, the nails, the black and silver rings he only wore on occasions where he wanted to feel attractive, as if it was a department he was lacking in to begin with. Connor sorted through the bottles until he found the one he was looking for, tapping a finger out over the cap expectantly, refusing to pick it up just yet. Jake watched his hand fall still on the neck of the bottle, the pounding sound of his heartbeat in his ears speeding up the longer Connor lingered.
It was an afterthought, Jake could tell. The way he leaned in towards his ear with the low whisper of words that sent a shiver down his spine as he felt Connor's voice enter his consciousness. Connor wasn't sober—he could smell that much on his breath—but he didn't fumble and his words didn't slur. They were clear as day and they set fire to any reserve Jake might have had to keep his mouth shut and keep his distance.
"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, sunshine."
He could hear the smile. That taunting, twisted smile that Connor used to engage Hunter with. Had he finally decided whether he hated Jake or not? Was this what he ended up with? Tormenting him to make him regret it, flaunting his ability to move on in his face, lavishing in the amusing blush that settled over Jake's face as he lost his ability to think.
Fuck you, Connor.
Jake swallowed down his words thickly, trying not to dwell on how he could make out the outline of Connor's face in his peripheral vision. His skin was red hot and his veins were burning with some unfamiliar sensation that sent him spiraling to move. He wouldn't sit still and let Connor dictate the rules of whatever little game he meant to play. It felt like one of the carefully balanced risks he took with Hunter, setting expectations and seeing if the other could live up to them. Connor expected him to fold—he knew how much Jake hated confrontation and was well aware of his tendency to act more like a sick little puppy than a guard dog.
Connor was pulling his strings, but Jake was about to cut them.
He watched Connor's smug expression as he finally decided to pick the bottle up off the counter, eyes looking out into the kitchen for another one of his friends. Maybe he was searching for Kris or maybe he was waiting to rub The Asshole in Jake's face again, but he was glancing at anyone and everyone that wasn't his ex. It left Jake the element of surprise. When Connor's arm was retreating from the counter, getting ready to leave Jake where he sat and go about his night as if the whole thing never happened, Jake caught ahold of his wrist and the jolt it sent up Connor's arm nearly made him drop the bottle in shock.
Jake watched his grip tighten over the glass to the point where he thought Connor might break it, but he hadn't even been holding on to him with that much intent. He never wanted to scare Connor, he just wanted to grab his attention. His thumb brushed over Connor's skin lightly, loosening his hold until Connor's arm could have fallen from his fingers—but it didn't. He was rendered completely still.
Jake angled his body towards him to watch him. He wanted to see the exact face Connor made when he decided to throw his agonizing snark back at him. When their eyes met, he found it. They flashed something dark and low—glaring at Jake like he had made some huge mistake, but Jake felt rather comforted in the purgatory they held him in. Connor's head tilted up in response.
There it is. Jake studied the raise of Connor's chin as a default move to anyone who got a little too close. That is defensive. It shouldn't have given him satisfaction, but it did. It brought a sick, smug smile to Jake's face that made his soul ache from the sudden outburst of irrationality and irritation. The unpleasant look on Connor's face should have sparked something else in him—something more remorseful than ravaging—but Jake glanced over him with a playful smile he knew looked painfully like Hunter, and regretted nothing.
He tilted his head over in contemplation as he watched Connor's uncertainty flare. Only once he allowed himself to look down to Connor's lips, catching how his breath escaped them in a steady rhythm that sought to keep his cool front in one piece. Once was enough to send Jake's thoughts to somewhere else completely, but his tongue traced over the back of his teeth as he centered himself back to reality.
His eyes flicked up to Connor's.
"Happy birthday... Connor." Jake said in the same spite-filled tone that Connor had given him.
His arm pulled away from Jake as if he had been burned by his grip. He swallowed thickly as he looked over Jake once more, his expression reading something stuck between two worlds that Jake found scarily attractive. Connor looked pissed. He looked pissed, but not so much at Jake than he was himself. Jake watched him recoil from the feeling. He watched him writhe in self-question, and for once he felt strangely at peace with knowing he had forced Connor to give him a reaction that wasn't rooted solely in faked disinterest and disdain. This was genuine and raw, and Jake saw right through it for what it was. Connor Morgan wasn't so sure of himself anymore, and staring back at him was the reminder of his miscalculation.
Yeah, I know how to play that game too.
But he clearly wasn't about to let Jake revel in his frustration any longer, so he ignored giving it any response and turned off to go find whoever the fuck he was bringing an entire bottle of vodka to. Jake watched him try to keep his confidence in tact with a smug eyebrow raise and a gentle fabrication of keeping his movements strong and steady, but through it all Jake knew he had just struck a nerve. Connor didn't want to let him see it—because if anyone was going to see it, it would've been Jake—but it didn't change the fact that it had happened. Someone had challenged his carefully confined control of his emotions and he didn't know how to handle it.
"What was that about?" Rose leaned over to grab his attention as the image of Connor faded back into the hallway.
Jake let his smile fade as he tried to fizzle out any of the remaining confidence he had from the encounter. He felt uncomfortable by how comfortable that interaction was. A part of himself was mad for being such a prick, and the other part wanted to linger in it for a little longer. It felt like standing up for himself, but it also felt like something... else. He didn't know how to name the feeling, but it buzzed through his veins like adrenaline and made his skin tingle with the urge to feel Connor's skin under his own once more. It was strangely satisfying. It felt like revenge.
"I think I'm gonna take that shot now." He swallowed down the heat rising in his throat.
Question grazed her features only for a second before Rose shrugged it off and pulled a bottle of flavorless vodka from the counter. She didn't ask him again and he wouldn't have been able to tell her what he was feeling if she did. A new red plastic cup got pulled from a stack and she twisted the lid of the bottle off with her newly manicured French-tips to pour out what ended up as a shot-and-a-half into Jake's designated cup. When she pushed it out to him, he took all but three seconds to down the whole thing, scrunching up his nose as the familiar flavor stained his mouth.
He had expected the burn down his throat to replace the fire in the pit of his stomach, but it didn't. It buddied up next to it like the perfect pair, and he cursed himself for thinking something so stupid might have worked. No amount of beer would erase Connor from his mind, and no amount of vodka would take away the longing for his touch. If anything, it was bound to make him worse, but he should have expected that much already.
She left the cap unscrewed from the bottle and offered it out to him again after surprise dawned on her features from how fast he downed it instead of sipping it like his past three drinks. He was quick to shake his head and settle for the one shot he had—anything more would have pushed him towards the cliff of his own self-demise.
"Why the change of heart?" Rose put the bottle back into the mix in front of them.
"Fucking Connor." He grumbled lowly as if it gave her any more of an answer.
She left the conversation at that and the two of them faded into talk about anything but for the rest of the night.