I help Jase’s mom with the breakfast dishes while Jase does a few chores around the house – changing a light bulb in the garage and replacing a battery in a smoke detector. It feels very natural and homey being here with them. I am thoroughly enjoying the weekend break away from campus and the dorms.
We lie low the rest of the day, relaxing at home with his mom. She makes us lunch and even breaks out Jase’s baby albums. He was the cutest, chubbiest, blond-haired, blue-eyed baby ever. Seriously, he could have been a model.
Jase sits in the armchair and frowns while his mom and I huddle together on the couch, flipping through the pictures, giggling and murmuring what a cutie he was. Seriously, he was blessed genetically. I have no doubt that someday he will make beautiful babies.
Jase says the night will be low-key, just a casual get-together at his friend Radar’s apartment. Apparently, his friend Steve’s last name was Radaresky and everyone had called him Radar since eighth grade. Jase has been friends with this group for years and he tries to visit them whenever he’s home for the weekend. They’d chosen to remain in town and get jobs rather than go off to college. He also mentions this is a group of friends his dad doesn’t approve of. No wonder Jase is so loyal – it seems he’d do just about anything to defy his dad.
I dress in a pair of skinny jeans and layer a couple of long-sleeved tees on top. The nights are starting to get cooler as fall settles in. Jase meets me in the foyer, looking scrumptious in jeans and a light blue hoodie that brings out the blue in his eyes. Only Jase can make jeans and a sweatshirt look sexy. Sheesh, I’m in trouble.
Jase kisses his mom goodbye. “We’ll be late, Mom, so don’t wait up.”
“Okay.” She waves us off.
It’s a quick drive across town to an older brick-front apartment building. Jase leads me up three flights and taps on the door in a series of secret knocks before pushing it open. It’s interesting to get a glimpse of his life outside the frat house. I like all the sides he’s showing me: first, the sweet, caring side with his mom, and now his willingness to introduce me to friends from home.
“Hey!” A scrawny blond guy yells when Jase comes through the door. “Adonis!” he says, lifting his glass in a mock salute.
“Adonis?” I ask Jase, trailing behind him to enter the apartment.
Jase chuckles and shakes his head. “Greek god.”
That’s right. Adonis was the Greek god for beauty. I can see that. He has a freakin’ eight pack for Pete’s sake. Not to mention that gorgeous face, piercing blue eyes and his perfectly styled hair that looks like he’d rolled out of bed after a sexy romp. But it’s funny to me that even his male friends are aware of his superior status and tease him about it.
He takes it good-naturedly – the look on his face is relaxed and amused. He leads me toward a round felt-lined poker table and toward the group of guys in the middle of a card game. He introduces me to Radar, the wide-smiling blond who called him Adonis; Dave, a shaggy-haired hippie type; Sal, an olive-skinned cutie with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes; and Matt, a tall red-headed guy with the lightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. They all say hello, but it’s obvious we are interrupting their game.
We venture into the living room next, where a guy and girl are playing a video game and another girl sits sulking on the end of the sofa. Jase doesn’t introduce me, but I see them exchange a glance that’s anything but friendly. I sense they have a past, and as curious as I am, part of me doesn’t want to know. I’m already aware of Jase’s history with girls, but that doesn’t mean I want to sit there while a girl he’d slept with shoots daggers at us with her eyes.
I tug on his arm. “Can we get something to drink?”
“Sure.” Jase looks relieved to leave the awkwardness behind.
We stand in the kitchen sipping from bottles of beer while the question about who the bitter girl is in the other room remains unspoken on the tip of my tongue. Part of me just wants to ask him, but I hold it in. I’m not dating him and I’ve told him practically nothing about my past, so what gives me the right to pry?
Jase looks thoughtful, leaning against the counter like he wants to say something. “The answer to your question is yes,” he says finally.
“What question?”
“You’re wondering if I slept with that girl in there.”
Whoa. His honesty levels me. “And you did?”
He nods. “In high school.”
“Why are you telling me this?” He doesn’t owe me an explanation.
“Because I know you could sense something and I want to be honest with you.”
“Oh.” Honesty. What a concept.
“It was only once, drunkenly at a party. I think she was hoping it’d turn into something more.”
I study him, his navy blue eyes, his chiseled rough jawline dusted with light stubble. I can see how girls probably throw themselves at him, hoping it’ll turn into more. “But it didn’t?”
He shakes his head. “I was a dick back then. It was my senior year of high school, and I was getting ready to leave for college. I didn’t want to be tied down with a girlfriend; I wanted to play the field. And when she told me she’d always liked me, I assumed she’d be okay with one night…”
While I couldn’t relate to exactly what that girl had gone through, I did still know the string of rejection when the guy you’d given yourself to physically didn’t value it. “You should go talk to her. Apologize.”