The parking garage for the arena was still full to its capacity when Zero deposited his gym bag into the trunk of his car. The remaining rows of vehicles were all just as expensive and grandiose as his own, the owners probably already upstairs in the exclusive Devils Playground for the after party. It was a known fact that the majority of the team went there after games, either to celebrate a victory or lament a defeat, and the party tonight was probably in full swing by now.
Zero contemplated just going home instead of attending. He always limited the alcohol intake based on his emotional state—a useful trick after watching his foster father drink himself nearly to death. He was definitely not in the right head space to get plastered tonight; he also had no real desire to be around people. The desire to avoid going home to an empty apartment was just as strong though, especially now because it only served as a reminder of being close to remedying that situation… except someone else got there first.
He really wanted a damn drink now.
There was a long line of anxious people leading up to the entrance of the club. It was mostly reporters hoping that someone would take pity on them and either offer admittance or a few words, though there were a few of the elite society as well, such as actors, musicians, and business executives. They made their way to the doors of the club, each one dressed in their finest party attire, slowly trickling inside once their names were verified on the list while the rest waited restlessly or were turned away at the door.
Bypassing this line entirely, Zero approached the entrance reserved for the other players on the team, as well as the dancers and other important employees of the Devils Nation. A slow beat of a slightly muffled song crept out into the hallway, growing louder as the large security man guarding the door opened it without prompting allowing Zero through without hesitation. It was already full of activity inside the club, a handful of people dancing while most were of the team gathered around the tables or seated on the comfortable couches to discuss the game.
It was a celebration that would make most people envious, people all throughout the club sipping at their beverages and enjoying the after feeling of the latest win—even though it had been a close game—but Zero walked resolutely toward the main bar. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his expensive jeans, head slightly downcast to avoid looking at anyone in case they actually wanted to interact with him. He was on speaking terms with maybe a good five people in the entire room, at odds with at least twice that, so it was doubtful that many people would disturb him. He had no friends in the locker room after all.
Zero managed to make it to a barstool without incident and sat down. He took great care in choosing a location with the least amount of people present, not really wanting to test fate; he imagined the way his mouth twisted into an irate scowl the second he was seated would dissuade anyone who thought about it, and if not that, the cool antagonism lurking in his eyes certainly would. He took a moment to seriously consider just how intoxicated he wanted to get and just how fast he wanted to get there.
On any normal day Zero would have preferred to take his time and sip on a couple of microbrews or whatever was being served around the room at the time, let the alcohol build up slowly in his eyes over time for a nice buzz. He decided against it in this instance, because that always left him just sober enough to have a clear head; he may have wanted to think earlier, but Lucas and his smarmy face were all he could focus on.
Shots it is, Zero decided eventually. It would take a good ten to twenty minutes for the alcohol to absorb into his bloodstream, maybe less since he had not eaten dinner yet, and so drinking shots was the surefire way to metabolize it all faster. He went straight for the darker liquors with high proofs and savored the harsh burn as it went down his throat, turning the empty glass over and setting it down on the counter. He waited a few minutes before gesturing for another, the alcohol slow to take effect, but Zero could already feel the beginnings of a pleasant warmth spreading throughout his muscles by the third shot.
Zero felt some of the built of tension release then, slowly seeping out of him as the music and chatter continued on in the background. His thoughts became just a bit hazy, enough that it was easy to push Lucas far out of his mind, even if someone else refused to be forgotten. He took no notice of the brunette woman who suddenly perched near his left, her legs crossed toward him as he attempted to flag down the busy bartender for another one. He let out an irritated sigh when the attempt proved unsuccessful, rolling up his sleeves in an effort to distract himself from just how badly he wanted to forget this night ever even happened.
… To forget everything and anything associated with Jude.
The fact that a certain coat closet happened to be just down the hall only made matters worse, because that room served as a reminder of simultaneously one of the best and one of the worst nights of he had experienced in a long time. Zero could remember every single detail of that night with vivid clarity. He could see it all play out like a dream inside his head even now, the way he had caught sight of Jude sitting at the bar—only a few seats down from where Zero sat now actually—the dejected tilt of his shoulders speaking volumes.
It had been concern that drove Zero to approach and offer support any way he could. He had listened, a proud feeling manifesting at the fact Jude had stood up for himself and said no to Oscar, silently reeling in the notion that anyone could consider Jude an afterthought. It had been so easy to tell Jude that he thought of him first all the time. He tried to play it off like a line, not certain just how welcome the sentiment would be, but it had been the truth. His words had incited a slight shift in Jude then.
Zero teased a finger over the rim of the cool empty shot glass, recalling the way Jude had looked at him, eyes darkening with rekindled interest. The words had been delivered softly which took away some of the bite, the admittance that Zero made Jude feel normal—that they were both screwed up I their own way and gave each other that normalcy they both secretly craved—had soothed the sting. Things had progressed rather rapidly after that point.
Jude had nibbled down on his lower lip in a way they both knew drove Zero crazy. He had been surprised that Jude agreed when he jerked his head, walking away from the bar slowly and trying to find a secluded space for an intimate reunion. He never thought it would progress beyond kissing at that point, but the tension and desire between them both had been so tangible that by the time they made it into the isolated closet it had been unbearable. The way Jude had stared for those brief seconds—the uncertainty—until he stepped forward and took possession of Zero's mouth like he had never stopped, as if he had been unable to keep himself from denying his own desire after so long apart.
It had been so satisfying, the culmination of unresolved feelings and months of yearning for one another, and their hands made quick work of the buttons of their shirts. He had gotten lost in the moment, feeling complete and contented to have Jude back in his arms—letting Zero touch him, kiss him… hold him. They had made a mess of the closet, their clothes gathering on the floor with the coats and shawls that had been in their way as they struggled with one another, each trying to take control and release their pent up frustration. He could have spent all night or longer like that.
Zero must have been a little too lost in the memory, eyes having fallen shut at some point, because they snapped open suddenly when he felt a perfectly manicured hand close over his forearm. He blinked slowly and felt his minuscule patience falter. He reached up to capture the offending hand, which had already begun to trace the veins on the vulnerable side of his arm, and tried to hold onto his precarious temper. It took every ounce of control not to be rough as he removed it.
"Not interested," he told the woman gruffly, not even sparing her a glance.
Perhaps maybe after a few more shots Zero would consider going on the prowl for some pleasurable company, something to soothe the lonely ache inside of him—and maybe even to show Jude that he was not the only one who could move on. Zero could have almost anyone he wanted. He could pick any random guy or girl from the crowd and spend the night with them. He might do just that once he had enough to drink, but until then Zero had no interest in any kind of hook up. He was still entirely too sober to seduce anyone or be seduced.
Unfortunately enough the woman was persistent and not easily deterred by the dismissal. He could smell the overwhelming scent of her designer perfume, pleasant enough under normal circumstances even if it made his stomach churn now, as she pressed her body against his side. "Are you sure?" she asked, voice like honey: slow and suggestive, sticky sweet. "I can think of a ways to change your mind…" She emphasized her point by placing her hand on him again, this time high on his thigh and dangerously close to a certain part of his anatomy.
Zero finally turned to face her then, mouth pressed together in a fine line. He flicked his eyes over her form and had to admit that she was a very attractive woman. She had a decent figure, dark and thick caramel hair, and large hazel eyes accentuated by eyeliner and artificial lashes. She was probably the kind of woman who usually got her way. He considered it for a long moment, even in spite of his earlier disinterest, because she seemed capable of handling herself. He always did admire strong women.
It was something that Zero had found attractive in Jelena Howard during their short tryst. He still even grudgingly respected her for it no matter how much the bitch pissed him off.
It would have been no hassle to say yes to this woman now and enjoy a few hours in bed together. They could have a great time and it would give Zero the chance to immerse himself in someone without delving into the messiness of emotion. He would have too… except everything was still a bit too raw and everything about her was wrong. Her eyes were the wrong color, too blue with not enough green or brown; her curves were too soft, missing the hard planes of muscle; her features were too feminine, lacking the angular definition beneath the smooth skin.
This woman was not Jude and that made all the difference.
"No," Zero said plainly, wondering when it became so difficult to separate his head and his damn heart. He removed her hand once more and glanced at the bartender impatiently, even though she seemed to be a bit too occupied with other demanding customers to bother with him. He felt a twinge of annoyance at being blatantly ignored in favor of the likes of Terrance Wall and Derek Roman.
"I really think you should reconsider—" the woman tried again determinedly, and Zero felt the last shred of patience dissolve in an instant.
As far as Zero was concerned at the moment, this woman was just another obstacle trying to keep him from his ultimate goal of drinking himself to oblivion. He settled a glare on her and lifted an eyebrow, not bothering to breath out another word to dissuade her. He was not one to usually threaten women, even without words, but he could be intimidating when he wanted to be. He warned her with his eyes to stop pushing the issue and thankfully that seemed to get the point across nicely.
The woman swallowed thickly, grabbed her purse and then finally left.
"Well," a voice cut in abruptly from behind, a hint of reproach signing through. "Someone is in a cranky mood."
Zero barely had time to look before a blonde dancer slid gracefully into the vacant seat. He was tempted to tell her to leave, but unlike the previous occupant, this one seemed more intent on getting another drink as well rather that to sit there and stubbornly hit on him. He turned his eyes away from her, deciding to ignore the comment, and stared down at the shiny countertop and the row of empty shot glasses.
"Considering you all just won another game, I would think you would be celebrating," she continued casually, the draw to her voice emphasizing the judgement in it. "That girl would have climbed you like a tree, and if you ask me, you look like you could use a good climbing."
Zero snorted at the euphemism. "Not in the mood to celebrate," he said, scowling when she clicked her fingers and one of the male staff members came over straight away.
"I'll take another one of these, sweet cheeks," she said, leaning over the counter and giving the guy a peek of her ample cleavage. "And another one of whatever grumpy here is having. He looks close to throttling someone if he doesn't get more liquor in him soon."
"Right away Miss Hart," he guy stuttered, hurrying to complete the order.
"Grumpy?" Zero repeated lowly and the blonde just tilted her head to give him an astute look. "I happen to be in a great mood."
The woman laughed loudly at the flat words. "Of course you are! Just like I'm as pure as virgin snow," she replied, lips quirked up. "Kyle Hart. I don't think we have ever been formally introduced before."
"Zero," he offered somewhat unnecessarily. Even if they had never met before he had been here for months now and his name was currently plastered on every banner and billboard around the arena. She seemed shrewd enough to pay attention. "Lesbian and sex tape girl, right?"
Kyle seemed to brighten, eyebrows lifting eagerly. "You watched it? I crashed a couple servers with that video, you know?"
Zero noted the fact that the woman had avoided commenting on her sexuality. He spotted the ring on her wedding figure though, assuring him that he was correct in his assessment. They were interrupted by the bartender returning. The man slid a fresh drink toward Kyle, a phone number and a name scrawled on the napkin it was sitting on that went completely ignored by the blonde dancer. The guy gave Kyle a pitiful look though finally managed to pour Zero another shot before reluctantly walking away to help some other patrons.
"Just what I needed," she said in approval, sipping at the sweet concoction.
Zero curled his fingers around the shot and threw it back, licking the remnants from his lips and gesturing for yet another before adding it the row of glasses. He was developing quite the collection of them. He idly wondered if he should stop. He considered it—his thoughts were still clear enough and he had practice tomorrow. He probably didn't need the hangover on top of everything else—but then the next round was already being poured in front of him and he swallowed that one down just as quickly.
Kyle shook her head, watching the display with wide eyes. "We really need to get you laid." She turned in her seat and gazed out into the room, seemingly searching for prospects among the crowd. "You really are way too hot to be this miserable…"
"No."
"Well, why not?"
Zero ignored the pouting, trying to catch the eye of the bartender again.
"Fine then," Kyle huffed and crossed her arms, eyebrows raised and pouty lips pursed together. "You do realize that everyone is limited to five shots per hour, right?" She gestured to the row of glasses and shrugged casually. "It's policy for the Playground. They're not going to give you another one."
Zero had never exceeded more than one or two here before today, so it had never been an issue in the past. He ran his tongue over his teeth. His phone vibrated in his pocket before he could decide what to do next. He extracted it and stared at the slightly blurry screen—perhaps he was more intoxicated than he thought. He pinched the bridge of his nose and unlocked the screen, squinting at the notification. His stomach rolled when he realized it was an email receipt for a limousine service and a hotel reservation confirmation.
It seemed like Lucas was taking the advice to heart.
Zero placed the phone down on the countertop, surprised to see his hand shaking. He had brought it on himself, he decided. He had made the offer because Jude deserved to be treated to extravagant things; he deserved to have someone put thought and effort in to pleasing him—Jude was not an afterthought. Zero hadn't been thinking about what it would feel like though, to not be the one doing those things for him. How had it gotten to the point where someone else's happiness took precedence over his own?
He should have stayed in Ohio. He never would have come to rely on Jude so much had he not accepted the deal. He never would have fallen in love with him. He was better off not ever knowing Jude, because if this is what love was, Zero was glad he avoided it for so long. Love is a painful emotion, but he brought it all on himself. He had been given chances and never took them. He let Jude walk away—more than once. He waited too long and now it was too late.
Jude was not going to wait anymore and Zero could only watch it play out. He wished it only made him angry. He wished that he could feel anything other than this aching that refused to go away. He had never been good at handling feelings, especially not what he was feeling now—disappointment, regret, longing, and foolishness for not taking what was right in front of him before someone else could. He wanted it to go away.
Zero wanted everything to just disappear, especially the way the sentiments churned, making his jaw quiver and eyes feel suspiciously wet. He didn't need any of it. He wanted everything gone. He reached over the countertop, down below the bar, and wrapped his long fingers around the neck of whatever bottle he came into contact with.
Beside him Kyle released a startled sound, but he barely even paused to glance at the label before twisting the top of. He then proceeded to lift the bottle by the neck until it rested against his lips. Shots were too much of a hassle for his state of mind. He needed the world to fade away and leave him to his misery. He tried to tell himself that his eyes watered because of the burn of the alcohol. He was a good liar; he would convince himself eventually.
"Oh boy," Kyle breathed out worriedly.