Worlds Collide (Fan Service #6)

5. Wolf

FIVE

WOLF

“I have an announcement to make,” CJ says loudly as he stands, and he has my attention instantly.

Not that he hasn’t had it for the whole damn day.

The whole weekend .

The thought makes me scowl.

Carter’s arm bumps against mine for the millionth time when he raises his millionth beer bottle of the night to his mouth, and that just makes it all worse.

“All good, roomie?” he asks me with a shit-eating grin. I just grunt back at him in the hope he will never call us that again.

He’s been guzzling down alcohol all day as far as I can tell and the dude is seriously drunk. I can only imagine what a pain in the ass it’ll be to not only make sure he makes it safely to bed, but to sleep in the same room as him. I checked out the couch that’s shoved against one of the walls of the room and I think it’ll be comfortable enough for me to sleep on tonight—there’s no way in hell I’ll sleep next to someone who’s going to be seeping alcohol out of his invisible pores all night.

Flawless sepia skin aside, the night only promises to get worse from here on out.

I get a good minute to look around while everyone, one by one, turns their attention to CJ and settles down. Hawk finishes laughing after once more recalling how I told some of the wealthiest people in the world to unclench their asses. He’s pretty drunk too, but he’s Deedee’s problem now. I don’t have to deal with his incessant giggles or with the worry that something might happen to him while he’s intoxicated.

I clench my jaw in an effort to stave off the guilt that immediately follows that thought. I shouldn’t be so relieved that I’m not the only one taking care of Hawk anymore. Even though Deedee has been a big part of our lives for more than four years now, it’s only after they got married that I felt truly safe knowing Hawk will never be alone no matter what happens to me.

I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I haven’t brought it up in a meeting—because I know damn well that the codependency is strong with us, and that it’s problematic. I don’t need other people pointing it out to know it’s true. Just like I know neither he nor I want anything about our relationship to change, so why should it?

Everything is absolutely fine between Hawk, Derek, and me.

Everyone around the circle of chairs quiets down and I can finally focus on CJ without having to hide it. I can tell the moment he realizes everyone’s waiting for him to explain, because he pulls his shoulders back and puts his version of a game-face on and loses the nervous frown.

“I legally changed my name,” he announces in a bold, clear voice.

Judging by the way everyone’s faces scrunch up, I’m not the only one who’s confused. He introduced himself as CJ to Theo’s grandmother yesterday, and to some of Mike’s cousins today... So what gives?

“What was your name before?” Hawk asks, and... Fuck, I don’t even know what the man’s damn name is. I look at CJ, invested in his answer now.

“That’s not important.” He just shakes his head and waves Hawk’s question off.

“What’s your name now?” Carter asks in a slur.

“CJ,” he answers with a proud smile, and no one seems any less confused. That’s good then, they’re on the same page as me.

“Okay, but what does the C and the J stand for?” Sebas asks slowly and with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Nothing. It’s just CJ. The letters.” A beat of silence passes and it thankfully clues CJ in to the fact that no one knows what the hell that means. His shoulders slump and he looks around the circle like we’re the ones being unreasonable. “You can change your name to only letters, and since naming myself is... weird for me, I decided to just stick with letters and not fucking torture myself over yet another decision I have to make.”

“Another decision?” Mike asks, looking lost. “What other things have you been deciding?”

“Well, you know I got my trust fund last month?—”

“Uh, yeah,” Josie interrupts with the duh implied in the words. “The whole fucking world knows you’re, like, stupid rich now. What about it?”

“So I have a lot of things to manage now. I have plans for everything I own, and I’ve had to arrange a lot of things. It’s why I took a month off from my residency.”

Ah, so that’s why he hasn’t been around .

“What kind of things?” Deedee asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Like all the art.” CJ looks animated now, moving his hands with every word he says and eyes shifting over the whole group—though they never cross paths with mine... “I gave Carter and Sebas a bunch of shit?—”

“It’s not shit ,” Sebas says, clearly offended.

“Whatever,” CJ mumbles and keeps going. “They’re helping me place everything while all the houses sell.”

Adam spits the sip of beer he just took on the center of the circle. “You’re selling the houses?” he demands, eyes wide open.

“Yes, most of them, not all. There are a few I love,” CJ says like he’s totally unbothered by having to explain himself. I’d have run out of here after the second question and I can’t help but admire the way he stands in front of all of us and takes the proverbial firing squad like a pro. “Like the brownstone here, since it’s so close to where you want your new place to be.” He wags a finger between Sebas and Adam. “And to Mike’s. I’m gonna keep that one and maybe a couple more.”

“Fuck,” Adam shouts and rubs his head with his free hand.

“What?” Sebas asks him.

“What do you mean, what? He’s selling like twenty houses!” he shouts while pointing up at CJ but looking at Sebas with his eyes still wide open.

“What else are you doing?” Josie asks. Clearly beyond interested now, she leans forward in her chair.

“You’ll find out soon,” CJ tells her, clearly trying to dismiss the question. He looks at her with a desperation that makes him miss that mark. “I just wanted to tell you guys I’m officially CJ and...” He trails off and swallows hard. Clearly there’s something else he wants to say, but I can see the second he decides against it. His eyes shift to Adam but he quickly looks away and down at his feet. Is he ashamed? What is the other thing he wants to say? He downs the full glass of whatever it is he’s drinking and shakes his head. “And celebrate my freedom with all of you.” He cheers a little after the last word and everyone joins him by raising their glasses.

Clearly they all bought it.

I didn’t.

But am I going to do anything about it?

Everyone goes back to their conversations or starts new ones, but I stay quiet and keep looking at CJ as if I can figure out what he was going to say by somehow learning to read minds in the next five seconds.

Clearly there’s more to whatever it is he’s been doing the past month besides selling houses and changing his name.

Carter gets in my line of vision when he goes in for an enthusiastic and sloppy hug from CJ, and then he’s once more beside me and again bumping his arm against mine. After tipping the bottle back to finish all its contents, he proceeds to pass the fuck out right then and there.

I let out a long breath while I stare at his perfectly carved jaw hanging open.

I guess that’s my cue to face the music. It’s not like I’m dying to stay out here any longer, so I stand and nudge his foot with mine to try and get him to wake up.

“Come on, man. Time to get you to bed,” I try to coax him.

“Oy!” he shouts when he opens his eyes. “You trying to get into my pants? It might work,” he says and snickers.

I feel my upper lip curl in disgust.

Not that the Brit isn’t... handsome. He clearly is and knows it. With his pointed cheekbones and sharp eyebrows... He has pretty brown eyes too. At least when they’re fully open .

But I’m not into somnophilia and also, I just?—

Fuck.

I don’t want him.

And it’s got nothing to do with wanting one of his best friends. His only straight friend at that...

Suddenly he’s there, right next to me, looking down at Carter with a fond smile gracing his lips.

Jesus, what is this, fucking Shakespeare?

Get a grip, Wolf.

“I’ll help you walk him over,” he tells me quietly without looking at me.

Again, I only grunt in answer, and then we spend the next thirty minutes walking less than two-hundred feet to the house we’re all staying at. We drag him up the stairs and to the bedroom I’ll have the pleasure of sharing with Mr. Drunk-off-his-ass.

Yay.

CJ gets him settled into bed while I go to the bathroom in search of a trash can. Carter’s snoring by the time I’m back beside the mattress, and I place it as close as possible to where his head is resting, but on the floor. Then I lean over and pull on his shoulder so he’ll lie on his side.

I turn and see CJ biting down on his lower lip while he looks at the couch.

“That’s my bed for the night,” I say lamely.

“You, uh.” He clears his throat and turns to look at me. It takes him a long moment, but he manages to look at my eyes and then he finishes his sentence. “You want to sleep in my room? I snore a lot less than Carter.”

As if he was waiting for a cue, the sound of a hungry lion leaves Carter’s nose a second later and CJ winces—adorably. No, Jesus. He’s not adorable in the least .

I look at CJ for an uncomfortable amount of time, waiting to see if he’ll look away, if he’ll retract his offer.

But he doesn’t.

His gaze is steady, and dare I say hopeful, on mine.

“Okay,” I agree simply, stupidly, unexpectedly.

What the fuck am I doing?

I don’t have an answer while my body just moves on autopilot. I grab my duffel and get my toiletries then follow him out of the room and down the endless hallway. I’m confused as to why CJ would offer me this when he has a room for himself—something I heard him tease Carter about during the wedding—but I won’t complain about not having to sleep next to someone who reeks of booze.

CJ’s room is exactly like the one we just came from, so I place my bag on the almost identical couch, then spin around as if fascinated by the decor or some shit, when CJ just goes right in.

I dodge him at the last millisecond.

Fucking Christ, that’s tequila .

It takes my brain a few seconds to understand what the hell CJ was trying to do.

He was... Damn, was he going to kiss me?

The bright red blotches growing on his perfect cheeks tell me he was. And he’s embarrassed. And he’s... not straight?

I’m too tired to try to figure out so many fucking things in one night.

But he looks so damn vulnerable—so sad, embarrassed, and mortified. I can’t not explain why I dodged him. I have to tell him.

“Your breath smells like tequila,” I blurt out before he can look even more like a lost puppy.

“What? ”

Good, my words got him out of his head.

“Your breath smells like tequila and I’m sober.”