Page 73 of Midnight Curfew

Garrett walks to his Mercedes, Callum slowly drifting away from me. “It’s okay,” he mouths. “I can handle him.”

But as I watch him go to his car, ready to follow that fucking prick home, I just want him back in my truck.

He opens his car door, looking over at me. “I’ll see you soon.”

There’s an air of confidence about the way he says it, as if he’s reassuring me that this doesn’t change anything.

And as I watch him drive away, following his father, I wince at the pain in my chest.

I don’t want to feel this.

I never feel shit like this.

I don’t want it.

It’s not worth it. It’s not like we were going to fall in love. Or stay together forever. He’s going to find someone else eventually.

He’s going to leave for college at some point.

Maybe I’ll leave town, too. We were just fucking around.

I should never have told him about my mom. He’s a Saint, and Garrett Ames won’t tolerate any hint of anything between us.

Combing my fingers over the top of my head, my hair wet from the rain, I climb back into the truck, still smelling him in the cab.

I lean back and rub my eyes, swallowing through the pain in my throat.

Pulling out my phone, I scroll through my contacts and delete Callum.

My eyes burn, and I bite the inside of my mouth to keep myself in fucking check.

I throw my phone down on the seat, shift into gear, and hit the gas, the tires peeling under me as I race back to the Bay as fast as I can.

12

Dallas

I should probably jerk off.

I know where the Wolfe Room is, and I have a good idea of most of the members, but I don’t know exactly what to expect. My sex life has been pretty creative, but what’s it like when you’re rich? When you’re so bored, you have to dream up all sorts of kink to get you turned on? I don’t want a hard-on like a teenage boy after two minutes in there.

There’s probably bondage. Most likely voyeurism. Definitely sharing.

Maybe I won’t be turned on at all. Is sex any good without the seduction?

I lean against the shower wall, the water spilling over my head and down my nose and mouth. The school’s locker room is empty, and I saw no point in going home and failing to relax. After getting some prep work done for Monday, I worked out in the weight room and decided to get cleaned up here.

Callum was wrong about Seneca. He didn’t sleep around. He believed sex was a need, but like food, one that should be managed in moderation.

Something ultimately experienced within the intimacy of marriage.

Our desires shouldn’t control us and all that…

While I never sought the discipline to live similarly, I get that there’s a point. I can’t help but remember what Callum said in my bedroom all those years ago. I feel like shit all the time.

Whether we like it or not, we thrive on boundaries and rules, and in places where there’s only excess, like the Wolfe Room, how can things mean anything? Are they doing it because they love it, or are they doing it because they can’t stop?

All I know is that I want to know what Callum knows. I’m starting to wonder if he’s really like Nero at all.