TWELVE
THREE YEARS LATER

"But how are you going to get over him if you don't get yourself out there?"

I blew air past my lips sloppily. My bed was warm and I was tired of hearing things like that. Why wasn't I allowed to get over somebody on my own terms? Since when did the art of heartbreak have to involve a rebound? What happened to good old fashioned crying into a tub of ice cream?

Dylan and Mac were trying, bless their souls. I knew they were. And they just didn't want to see me all emotional about a guy – again.

"I'm fine," I insisted, pulling the blanket over my head in hopes that they would just leave. "Go without me."

I heard Mac scoff and then my sweet, sweet blanket was ripped off of my mostly naked body completely, leaving me grasping at the cold air. Dylan laughed from the other side of the room, spinning around in my desk chair.

They were both dressed for the club. I hated the club. It was too noisy when I was sober and too flashy when I was drunk. We went occasionally, mostly on holidays when parties were promised. Apparently, having my heart shattered into a million pieces called for celebration.

"Cade," Mac snapped, making me look up at her. "Marcus is on his way to pick us up. You have ten minutes to get up, shower, get dressed, and stop acting pitiful. You'll have plenty of time to cry when you're wasted."

Basically, I had given my heart to a guy who didn't think we were exclusive. I wasn't sure if I just missed the memo or I got played, but either way I was hurt. It was only the third man I ever felt something for, the second that anything went anywhere with, and I fell on my face.

I groaned and followed instructions, dragging my feet to the bathroom to cleanse myself of my self pity.

Maybe it was my fault for falling for a guy who called himself Cash, when his real name was Justin. I liked the dirt bike and the weed supply, but was too blind to see that he was sleazy. He had no drive, no loyalty, no money. He didn't even have a car.

Max had an outfit picked out for me. It was a little skimpy for the weather, but she must have had a master plan to get me laid. I thought about when I first told her and Dylan that I was definitely gay.

It wasn't long after he left. I didn't like to say his name.

They stared expectantly at me while I hugged my knees on the floor. I wasn't sure how to say it, or if I should even say it at all. Perhaps it was a passing craze, a split second fog.

"Jameson left," I said, exhaling deeply.

I watched Mac send a concerned glance towards Dylan, who looked confused. I knew I had to elaborate, but I just couldn't find the words. "What do you mean he left?" she asked, sliding from the bed onto the floor as well to place a warm hand on my arm.

"He left town," I muttered. "And he kind of . . . I liked him."

Dylan's eyebrows twitched. This was the hardest thing I had ever had to do in my life. I was regretting not just coming out in our group text. That would have been so much easier.

I sighed, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes until I saw stars. Without looking up, I mumbled, "I liked him as more than a friend."

When I was faced with silence, I removed my hands and dared to look at them. I was surprised to see that they were both smiling at me. Dylan was even trying not to laugh, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

"Thank God you finally said it."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What?"

Mac giggled. "Cade, babe, we've known. We've literally always known."

Horror struck my entire soul upon realizing what she meant by that. They knew I was gay? Before I did? I stammered over my words and thoughts. "How the fuck have you known?"

"Dude," Dylan chuckled, "you talk in your sleep. And you literally stared at Liam Hayes every single day in seventh grade. And you used to always have a husband in your car when we played The Game of Life. We've just been waiting for you to tell us."

Since that day, Mac has opened my eyes to a world I had never known before. It mostly started when we moved out to Texas for college. I felt more comfortable experimenting with clothes I'd never wear at home. I knew my mom would hate it and I would have gotten so much shit from the guys at school.

I wasn't wearing pink boas and glittery short shorts by any means, but God I loved a good crop top.

She had chosen a black sheer button down with my tightest jeans. I should have known. I guess if I was going to be looking for somebody to woo, this was the outfit to do it.

"Mac? It's, like, fifty degrees outside," I said, picking up the top. "Do you want my tits to fall off?"

Dylan snickered. "Hot."

I dressed quickly, leaving the top few buttons undone for the intentional messy look, and grabbed my coat, listening to my two friends chat animatedly about what new drink they were going to try tonight. I would stick to my usual vodka sunrises. That seemed to do the trick most of the time.

Marcus's car released white hot exhaust into the cold January air. We piled in and relished in the heat of the vehicle, my exposed chest thawing instantly. Dylan had his phone out, texting some girl he met on the Amtrak, Isabel.

Unfortunately, he was forced to move on when there seemed to be no end to Mac and Marcus' togetherness. I could tell there was still something there, however, when I'd catch him sending longing glances towards Mac across the kitchen.

"Okay, so Project: Get Cade a New Man is underfoot," I heard Mac say in a sergeant's voice. "Step one, put him in a sexy outfit, is complete. Step two, get him drunk and easy is next."

Grumbling in my seat about how I am not some kind of breeding dog, I looked out the window. It always threw me off how different Texas was from Edgewood. Of course, there were the small towns and farms and all the same shit, but we were in the heart of the city. I fucking loved it.

At the club, I decided not to risk leaving my coat somewhere and getting it stolen and left it in the car. I followed the other three down the sidewalk, absolutely freaking my ass off.

I could hear the music from outside, louder when the door swung open to let some giggling drunk girls out onto the street. We flashed the bouncer our IDs and got neon stamps on our hands.

Of course, we all beelined for the bar. It was difficult but we managed to all squeeze in a line along the sticky bar top.

Mac ordered us all shots and the bartender patiently took all of our drink orders. I looked around while we waited. There were so many people here, it was hard to focus on anything. The dance floor was half filled with people not really dancing, just loitering and talking amongst each other.

Red, purple, and blue lights bounced off of sweaty bodies and blinded me every once in a while. I turned back to the bartender when she returned with a tray full of our items.

On the count of three, all four of us threw back our shots. Mac and Marcus immediately withdrew from the bar to go to the dance floor. I took a seat on the empty barstool in front of me.

"Isabel is almost here so I'm gonna wait by the door for her," Dylan said and I nodded.

I was almost grateful for the sheer shirt because it was roughly a million degrees in here. The person beside me was visibly sweating, radiating their body heat onto me unpleasantly.

My drink was soon gone, replaced by another by the eager bar girl. She smiled at me while she made it, pouring an extra shot of vodka in it with a wink. She knew what was up tonight.

Dylan hadn't returned in at least twenty minutes. I was growing bored. Clubs were never my scene. Too loud, too hot, too busy. I could handle house parties since they were usually more laid back with slightly more tolerable music. But there was a reason we saved clubbing for special occasions.

I tried not to think about Cash. A grimace fell into my face every time I did.

An arm swung around my shoulders, using another hand reaching out to support herself on the bartop. "You've got to loosen up, Cade Mustaf," Mac slurred, pinching the muscle of my neck in an attempt of a relaxing massage. Somehow she had another drink in her hand that wasn't there before.

She beckoned the sweet bartender over and ordered two more shots of tequila. Both for me.

"Mm, yeah," I fake smiled, "that's really helpful."

I threw the shots of tequila back, sticking the limes between my teeth and biting down. My entire body shuddered from the taste, but that didn't discourage me from standing up, grabbing my cocktail and following Mac onto the dance floor.

It was terribly hot in the club. Sweaty bodies all touching one another in some form, may it be elbow to elbow or groin to groin. All I wanted was to find some beefy guy with big arms to grab my hips and move with me.

Dancing almost came naturally to me once we came to Texas. The pressure that came with being surrounded by people who knew me since birth just flew off my shoulders when I got here.

Nobody knew me here. It was such a big fucking state that I'd probably never see the same face twice.

So I started dancing. I swung my hips and raised my arms, closing my eyes to just feel the music. The bass made the floor shake, creating a rhythmic vibration in my body. I was really feeling it when somebody walked up behind me.

I looked over my shoulder to find a tall guy who looked like he liked to fish. He was sort of cute, in a Drink Beer, Kill Deer kind of way. It would have to do.

Mac and I made eye contact just as I started grinding on him. She threw her head back and cackled when she saw who I was dancing with, but I didn't really care. The tequila was talking and it was loud.

"Your body is incredible," the guy muttered right by my ear, his hands squeezing my hip a little too hard.

I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck, rubbing my body flush against his. He grasped his beer tightly, focusing on my face. I wasn't really attracted to him now that I could actually see him, but I was already in too deep so I just rolled with it.

Just as the song was changing smoothly into a different beat, a familiar chill on the back of my neck skated down my back. I shivered, playing it off as part of my dancing.

I ignored it at first, until I couldn't. It was so strong it made my stomach churn, which was a dangerous concoction while drinking. I excused myself from Billy the Kid and stumbled off of the dance floor.

There was no way I was about to be sick this early into the night. I searched the perimeter until I found Dylan and Isabel hanging out by a table. Immediately I staggered over to them, placing my drink on the tabletop.

"You alright?" Dylan asked, eyes looking over my face.

"I'm alright. Got a bit lightheaded."

Isabel smiled at me sweetly. "Hi, Cade," she said. "I love your outfit."

I grinned back gratefully, looking down at my shoes. The hair on the back of my neck was still standing. I felt like I needed air desperately.

"I think I'm gonna step out for a second. Watch my drink?" I said, laughing when they saluted me. I quickly shuffled out of the club and out into the brisk night.

There wasn't anybody out here. I ran my fingers through my hair, focusing on my breathing.

Whatever I was feeling, I was praying it wasn't an anxiety attack. I had been having them more and more ever since–

Well. Ever since he left.

I refused to let my tipsy brain linger on that for too long. I checked my phone, not finding anything that interested me. Once I was too cold to withstand the nipping winter air any longer, I ducked back inside. The heat enveloped me like a warm hug.

Halfway back to the table that Dylan and Isabel were, I stopped in my tracks. Some guy carrying three drinks bumped into me, making half of the liquor slide down my back like a landslide, but I didn't notice.

Because in the back of my head, so loud it drowned out the music, I heard, 'Hi, Petals.'