Crazy Love (mxm)

Chapter Twelve

James' POV

I felt like shit. Poor Dil.

Carter was talking, saying something about one of his kids from work, but I couldn't get myself to focus. I'd broken one of my rules today.

I promised myself I would never throw the past in Dillon's face.

Honestly, I didn't like to think about the past. There wasn't any point, not when the present and future were so much better. And Dillon wasn't doing anything out of character by bringing up my misadventures—hell, even Carter's friends brought them up. But that's what they were supposed to be. Misadventures.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to get the look on Dillon's face out of my head. It wasn't his fault our parents kicked us out, but that was how he felt. And it wasn't his fault that I had to scramble for money fast, and in any way possible, but that was also how he felt.

I thew that in his face today.

"Are you okay?" Carter asked. He glanced over and his blue eyes were filled with concern. "You're not chatty."

I shook it off and smiled. "Sorry, babe. Just tired."

He scoffed. "Doubt it. You're thinking about whatever it was that happened between you and Dillon back then. That's when you got all quiet."

When the hell did I decide it would be a good idea to date a freaking genius?

"Um...valid," I admitted, having no clue how to argue that point. "Okay then. ...You're right. I just feel kind of bad about what I said."

"From where I was standing, he was the one being a jerk."

I looked up quick to catch Carter's eye, but his gaze was trained on the road. "Nah, I was. It's kind of a long story, though. Maybe some other time."

Carter looked at me again, but then shrugged. "Fine by me. My mom's dropping Ronan off, by the way. Oh, and I have to plan his party theme too. His birthday is next Saturday."

I felt a little bit grateful. His lack of pushing probably stemmed from his denial about his feelings for me, but meh. I'd take it.

"Cars, duh," I scoffed, embracing the new topic.. "That's the easiest shit in the world. He was using my leg as a racetrack this morning."

He looked at me like I'd shown him the whole world. "Would you mind helping me? Have you thrown parties before?"

"...None that would be appropriate enough for your son, but sure, I'll help. Let's get this shit started."

Which was how we wound up sitting by the coffee table in Carter's living room, surrounded by papers with ideas on them. I had enough buzz in my head to keep the headaches at bay, but it was getting really difficult to balance alcohol and Carter.

"You got any beer?" I asked, keeping it nice and casual.

Carter looked at me with judgement. "It's four in the afternoon."

This was a common theme. People in my life did not realize that I was asking for alcohol, not the time of day.

When I didn't answer, Carter rolled his eyes and grabbed a beer from the fridge. I accepted it gratefully.

"Ok, here's my plan," I chipped in. "What if you made like little car-like suits out of straps and cardboard boxes, then had all the kids race across the yard. Hilarious, right?"

"You just wanna watch a ton of kids tackle each other," Carter said, shaking his head.

"...Hilarious, right?"