Almost three weeks after the I'm-A-Fucking-Amputee fiasco, Tommy spots Jake in the caf, laughing with his buddies, and he's determined not to let him weasel out of it this time.
He ends up waiting for Jake's friends to leave for close to an hour. Then they finally stand up, crumpling Chipotle wrappers in their fists. Tommy waits for them to do their stupid-ass frat boy handshake before getting up, hurriedly shoving his things into his backpack.
"Hey," he says sharply, touching Jake's shoulder.
Jake whips around. When he catches sight of Tommy, his eyes widen. "What do you want?" he says finally, looking away with pursed lips.
"I want to talk to you," Tommy says, jerking his head toward the exit. "And I want you not to run out the fucking door, all right?"
Jake looks at him for a long moment, face flat. "Fine," he says, grabbing his Coke and standing up. "Lead the way, Gold."
Tommy swallows and tries to pretend that doesn't hurt him.
YOU ARE READING
Human
RomanceTommy Gold's the snarky, gay lit major who still lives in his parents' basement. Jake Miller's the all-American straight guy with only one leg. Turns out, neither of those things is completely true. © a. c. wyatt, 2016
