Page 52 of Caught Running
“Well, I hope he works it out before this evening. I don’t want to be in a room with him all night if he’s in a snit,” Jonathan said, picking up his duffle.
“I thought we each had our own rooms?” Jake asked as he straightened from repacking the bag he’d just been rifling through.
“Well, we did, until we got here and checked in. The hotel sold out too many rooms, so we had to double bunk. I put Troy in with you,” Jonathan said and then he squinted. “Maybe that’s why he’s so pissed. He might have been looking forward to some peace and quiet on his own.” He didn’t sound offended, just thoughtful.
Jake swallowed, mind whirring as he tried to think of a way to fix this without being too suspicious. Finally he smirked and stuffed the last shirt into the bag. “I’ll trade you Troy for Brandon,” he offered playfully as he zipped up the bag. “Bastard snores like a freight train.”
“How do you know ... oh, yeah, from when he crashes at your place after away games. Well, hell, I won’t turn down that offer. Troy’s cuter anyway. Snoring doesn’t bother me,”Jonathan said with a laugh. “Here,” he said, holding out a key, “trade me.”
Jake reached out and took the key, smirking still. “You base your roommate choices on looks?” he teased.
“Nah, just my chances of getting laid,” Jonathan shot back with a wide wink as he walked backward down the aisle. “And I was thinking my chances with Brandon were below nil, so even Troy’s gotta be better.” He laughed at his own joke as he exited the bus.
Jake raised his eyebrow and smiled, glancing back out the window at Brandon with a frown. He should know, after a month of being the man’s lover, what was wrong with him tonight. But he was ashamed to admit that he had no clue. His chances of getting laid were probably pretty low as well.
Brandon knew he was being an asshole, but he was worn out, stressed, annoyed ... You name it, he felt it. He’d been looking forward to having his own room so Jake could be with him—or he with Jake—but then the room shakeup blew that all to hell.
The last week before spring break had disintegrated into utter hell: Two weeks of state testing, finishing up grading on annual tests, grades, A.P. exam prep, and baseball games on four out of seven nights. Brandon hadn’t slept more than three hours a night, even at Jake’s house. He was at the end of his rope, and he’d really been hoping this trip would make a difference.
He jerked his bag up onto his shoulder and slammed the storage compartment doors shut. Wasn’t looking good.
Jake stepped out of the bus stairwell and glanced around to make sure the others were gone before he sauntered over to Brandon’s side and gave him a shit-eating grin. “Cranky,” he observed mildly.
Brandon gave him a very clear look that said ‘don’t push me.’ “You have no idea,” he muttered, feeling much worse about theroom assignments now that his lover stood right next to him. Surely they could find some time somewhere, somehow. Or else Brandon was going to go absolutely fucking insane.
Jake waved his traded key and smiled even under the withering glare Brandon had given him. “I forgot to ask Jonathan which room it was.”
“What room?” Brandon asked tiredly, patting his pockets, looking for the key card he’d stashed somewhere.
“Our room,” Jake answered, watching Brandon closely.
Brandon looked at him blankly for a long moment. “Our room?” he whispered, something like hope flashing in his eyes.
“Jonathan begged me to take you because he didn’t want to be eaten in his sleep,” Jake informed Brandon primly, barely hiding the smile.
It was all Brandon could do not to drop all his bags and throw himself at Jake, and it was clear on his face. “Oh God,thank you,” he whispered fervently.
Jake grinned and chuckled. “Maybe when we get in there you can tell me what’s wrong?” he ventured as he turned and began to head for the hotel entrance.
Brandon sighed, shoulders sagging. “Yeah. Nothing major,” he murmured. “Just letting it get to me.” He led the way through the automatic doors, making for the entrance to the Holidome. The Parkview team had all the rooms on the left side of the pool, with the coaches’ rooms dotted through the row. Glancing at his key card, Brandon made a face. It looked like they were all the way at the end.
Jake glanced around the hotel and grinned. “Hey, pool bar!” he cried happily, veering off like a little kid with a short attention span.
Glancing after him, Brandon rolled his eyes before following. Jake was already getting a beer when he got to the bar, and Brandon let his bags thump to the outdoor-carpeted floor. Hescooted himself up onto a stool next to the other coach with a sigh. When the bartender looked to him, he requested, “Vodka twist. A double.”
“Uh oh,” Jake murmured as the man popped the top off his beer and slid it over the bar to him. “It’s adrinkingproblem?” he asked, semi-worried.
Brandon rubbed at his eyes, thanking the bartender and taking a big swallow of the vodka, wincing before giving himself a shake and making a face. “I’m a mess,” he muttered.
“Why?” Jake asked with a small frown.
And the rest of the double shot went down. “You remember how we talked about burnout at the beginning of the season?” Brandon asked miserably. He gestured for another.
“Yeah,” Jake answered tentatively as he watched the glass drain. He’d offered to help several times, and Brandon had happily accepted, but he knew his various skills at grading and whatnot weren’t nearly on par for the science teacher’s high standards.
“I hit the wall this week. Hard.” Brandon picked up the second glass and took another swallow. Jake merely nodded, wondering if he’d have to carry Brandon to the room. He’d never seen him drink more than a few beers.
Sighing, Brandon pressed the back of his hand holding the shot glass to his forehead. “I even had help. I still hit the wall,” he mumbled. “Tom let me out of tutoring this week. Still didn’t help. And here we make this trip, and I feel like utter shit.”