Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game(8)

While Mr. Nelson blew through the door of Jake’s room and started snatching and grabbing, I hesitated. Something just didn’t seem right about going in there without Jake. Mr. Nelson glanced back at me. “Coming?” he asked sarcastically.

I nodded and stepped through the threshold. I might as well be a pansy and admit that the memories hit me like a ton of bricks. It was like a harsh kick to the gut—or groin for that matter. I’d never been in this room without Jake. It was like his presence was everywhere.

My stroll down memory lane was interrupted by Mr. Nelson’s gasp. “What the hell?” he demanded.

Oh, shit! I thought. My mind was flooded with possibilities. He’d stumbled onto Jake’s  p**n  collection. Worse, he’d found Jake’s stash of pot. Jake and I had once joked that if something happened to one of us, the other was supposed to go get rid of anything incriminating in our rooms. Great, I’d let him down.

I turned around. “What’s wrong?”

The world slowed to a crawl as Mr. Nelson extended his hand. I drew in a deep breath as he opened his fingers.

I stared at a small, black box. I exhaled slowly since it wasn’t pot,  p**n , or anything else shock-worthy. But the look on Mr. Nelson’s face caused my breath to hitch. “What is it?”

“You don’t know what this is?”

Duh, would I have asked you if I did, asswipe? I wanted to say, but I managed just to shake my head.

Mr. Nelson sighed and stalked across the room to me. He thrust the velvet box into my hands. I cracked the box, and the sound echoed through the room. A glittering diamond stared back at me. But it wasn’t just any diamond. It was two carats of commitment in a platinum setting.

Wow, even I could tell the man-whore had taste. I didn’t know much about diamonds, but I did know it glittered like it cost a fortune. That made me wonder where in the hell Jake had gotten the coins for such a ring. He was probably dealing drugs for all I knew. Mr. Nelson jolted me out of my thoughts.

“Did Jake have a steady girlfriend?” he asked.

I gave him a dumbfounded look. The words “Jake” and “relationship” just didn’t mix unless it was combined with multiple sexual relationships.

I staggered backwards. The mere fact I was standing in the middle of Jake’s bedroom with an engagement ring in my hand made me dizzy.

“Noah?” Mr. Nelson questioned.

“I’m fine,” I murmured. He continued staring at me, so I cleared my throat. “No, Jake didn’t have a steady girlfriend. I mean, he and Avery were off and on again, and he and Presley…” I glanced up at Mr. Nelson, and he nodded.

“What about this? Do you know what it means?”

He handed me a piece of paper. It was the song lyrics to You Were Always On My Mind. As I read over the lyrics, I remembered a couple of months ago when I’d gotten into Jake’s truck after one of the basketball games.

When Jake cranked the car, music came blasting out of the speakers.

“Dude, what the hell is this shit?” I’d asked.

“It’s Willie Nelson man,” he replied, turning the heater on.

“That’s freakin’ fabulous, but why are we listening to it?”

“Cause I like it.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little hokey?”

Jake grinned. “I like hokey. Besides, it’s my song.”

I snorted. “I thought your song was more 50 Cent’s Pimp or JT’s Sexy Back!”

“Yeah, I am kinda a pimp, aren’t I?” Jake mused. Then he laughed. “No man, you’re wrong. This is a song to warm a girl up.”

I raised my eyebrows skeptically. “Warm one up? I thought all you had to do was look in their direction, and they’d fling their clothes off and fall over.”

Jake laughed. “Usually…but not this girl. She needs a little work, and trust me, it’s sexy as hell.”

I had scoffed at the thought and dropped the subject. Funny, how the most ridiculous conversations could have some deep seeded meaning. Now that I looked back, it was a private moment between two friends—one I wasn’t willing to share.

So, I looked at Mr. Nelson and shook my head.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the doorbell rang. Mr. Nelson rolled his eyes. “That would be Pastor Dan,” he grumbled.

Dan Parker was the pastor of the church Mrs. Nelson attended, and the one Jake had been court-appointed to attend after one of his sophomore year stunts. Well, the judge hadn’t actually mandated he attend church—just the rehabilitation program that Pastor Dan ran for wayward teens who did dumbass things like get drunk and drive a lawnmower na**d down to the school and mow grass into the shape of a penis on the football field.

I handed the velvet box back to Mr. Nelson. He glanced at it and then back up at me. “Don’t say a word about the ring to my wife, Noah. Not until we get through all this funeral bullshit.”

Asshole. “Whatever,” I mumbled.

As I went out the doorway, I glanced back at Jake’s room one last time, and then I followed Mr. Nelson downstairs.

Standing in the foyer alongside Pastor Dan was a girl who looked just like an angel. No shit, she was decked in a flowing white summer dress. Only her dark brown hair contrasted against her pale skin and attire.