"I brought supplies," he says, holding up a paper bag. I have a feeling it's going to contain several bottles of beer from his new favorite local brewery. We head into my living room, and it turns out I'm right.
"It's a school night, you know," I say as he hands me one and then pops the top with his keychain opener. "I don't know if I should." Jem just gives me a look and pops the top of his, the cap going flying.
"Shut up," Jem says, tapping his bottle with mine and then taking a big swig. Shit. Something is up with him.
"So, to what do I owe this honor?" I ask, taking a smaller sip. The beer is crisp and fresh, with a hint of blueberry. Nice.
"What, I can't just come over to your house and bring some beer and hang out?" His eyes are darting all over the place, and his face is a little flushed. Something is definitely up, but he's being typical Jem and pretending that it's not.
"Sure you can, but I'd like to know if there's a reason behind it other than just hanging out." He shrugs and takes a huge swig. Another gulp and his bottle will be empty. I'm going a bit slower.
"Nope. Just needed to get out of my house for a while." He finishes the bottle and goes to crack open another one. I want to snatch his keys, but that might earn me a punch in the face. Jem's a responsible guy, so it looks like he's going to be hanging out for a while.
"So, anything new with you and the blonde?" he asks. I guess if I can get him talking about me, he might open up. Jem loves talking about anything that's not his personal life.
"Not a whole lot. I took her out for French toast this morning after our workout, but she definitely still isn't a huge fan of mine." Jem snorts.
"What are you waiting for? I really don't get it. Is she worth all the effort and frustration?" I know the answer to that question, but I don't tell Jem. Yes. Freya is worth it, but I can't explain why. There is no tangible reason that I can't seem to handle not being around her. Whenever my brain has free space, it always seems to drift to Freya. And not just her amazing body. Her voice, her laugh, the way she doesn't seem to have a filter. It's a whole lot of little things that put together make one hell of a girl.
"You there?" Jem says, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
"Yup," I say, blinking. I've gone off thinking about Freya again. I can't seem to help it. She's all twisted up in my thoughts, and I don't have the desire to untangle her from my brain.
"You seem pretty fucking whipped," Jem says, and it's not a compliment. "I don't know how you can be, seeing as how you haven't even fucked her." I narrow my eyes at him. Freya isn't a girl I want to fuck. Well, I do, but I don't want just that from her. I want a whole lot more than fucking.
"Pardon me if I don't take your very wise advice seriously," I say. Jem shrugs and glowers a little.
"So, are you gonna tell me what crawled up your ass now, or are you going to pretend things are totally fine?" Jem pops the top of his second beer and nearly swallows the whole bottle in one gulp.
"And you might wanna slow down there, cowboy," I say. That earns me a middle finger.
"Fine, be that way. I don't care." I finish my first beer and get up. If he's gonna hang out for a while, we're going to need food. Jem follows me into the kitchen after a few minutes where I'm covering a tray with tortilla chips and cheese.
"You want guac?" I ask as he leans his forearms on the counter and shakes his hair out of his eyes.
"Yeah," he says.
I nod and shove the tray of chips and cheese in the oven before turning back to Jem.
"Things are just real fucked up sometimes," he says in a low voice. Jem always seems like he's on the verge of telling a joke, or just told one, but right now he's serious. I've seen him like this more than a few times, and it makes me wonder what else he's hiding. I don't ask. That's one of the reasons we work as friends. We don't ask about the hard stuff.
"Yeah, they are. Wanna talk about it?" I ask. He slowly shakes his head.
"Nope."
"Fair enough, just thought I would offer." Jem nods, and I can tell he really wants to, but either doesn't know how, or doesn't know if he can. After a few moments of silence he shuffles back to the living room and turns on the TV. I join him a few minutes later with the nachos, and we spend the rest of the night drinking, eating and talking about useless shit. Eventually we get back around to him asking about cheer.
"So you seriously like it?"