“Stop shouting!” he whispered, moaning again.

“Jaymeson…”

“Fine!” he snapped, and wobbled to his feet, trying to push past me. So not how I wanted the day after my wedding to go. Visions of waking up Nat slowly fell from my thoughts as Jaymeson stumbled past me and into the living room of the suite, finally toppling over and onto the couch with a gruff “Shit.”

“Five minutes then I’m calling security to escort you to a spare room.”

“And the worst friend in the world award goes to…” Jaymeson laughed and punched the couch with his fist.

“What’d you do?”

“I slept with her,” he whispered.

“Who?”

“Forgot her name.”

“And how exactly is that any different than any other day, night, morning in your miserable existence?”

Jaymeson rubbed his hands together and refused to look at me. “She saw.”

“Who saw?”

“She did.”

“Who the hell is she?”

“Priscilla, pastor’s virginal daughter who wants to tar and feather me.”

“Your point?” He was talking in circles. Jaymeson was known for sleeping with anything and everything. I still couldn’t figure out why he was being such a pansy about living exactly how he’d been living for the past five years of his life.

“Her eyes,” he whispered. “They were — disappointed.” Was it my imagination or did the guy look legitimately upset?

“Look.” I took a seat across from him. “I’m not trying to be insensitive, but why do you care? Why does she matter? And not to make you feel worse, but how the hell did she see you—” I waved my hand in the air. “—Whoring?”

Jaymeson shrugged. “Look, you don’t need details. All you need to know is that I came back from the airport — met up with some friends—”

“And when you say friends, you mean—”

“Single ladies,” Jaymeson half-growled. “People were still partying at the reception on the beach, so I made it known to a few of them that I was looking for—”

“An STD?”

“You’re really funny, you know that?” Jaymeson glared. “And no, I made it known I was looking for someone to have a good time with. A really pretty blonde made an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

I opened my mouth to comment, but Jaymeson sent me another glare. “I could do without your commentary, seriously.”

I shrugged innocently.

“Anyways, I’d had an earlier run in with Priscilla, and the idea of going back into the hotel after all of that made me kind of irritated so we took a bottle of champagne, went searching for a fun cave and…” His voice died off.

“Looked for sea life?”

“Right.” He snorted. “All types of sea life.”

After a few minutes of silence I said, “That it?”

“Sort of…” Jaymeson’s eyes darted wildly around the room before settling back on me. “Priscilla kinda stumbled upon us, and it’s possible I may have made her an offer to um… join.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I know!”

“And an idiot.”

“Thanks.”

“I hope she slapped you.”

Jaymeson turned his head to the left. I saw faint red marks that looked an awful lot like a handprint. The girl must have been pissed.

“And that’s when she gave you the eyes, I assume?” I leaned back in the chair and folded my arms.

“Yup.”

“Tell me you ran after her. Tell me you apologized. Tell me you did something heroic.”

“That’s just it.” Jaymeson snorted and looked down at his hands. “I’m not the hero, Alec. I’m the guy you wanna have a good time with. I just play the hero, but in reality — I’m the bad guy. I’m not the one you end up with or the one you take home to your parents. I’m the one you giggle about during bachelorette parties, or the wild fling girls think they want on summer vacation. Being the hero? I only know how to act like it — living it is a completely different scenario — one I’m not willing to attempt.”

“Why?”

He was silent, and then stood and made his way to the door, but not before quietly saying, “I don’t think I could handle it.”

“What’s it?”

Jaymeson turned and gave me a sad smile. “Giving a part of my soul to another human in hopes that they’ll accept every piece of what makes me who I am.”

“No risk, no reward,” I said.

“I’d rather go without the reward — than risk breaking.”

With that, he walked out of the room. I wasn’t an expert in all things Jaymeson but something was wrong with him. He was never serious about relationships or girls. I’d always thought it had everything to do with him being immature and too attractive for his own good. God knows that accent didn’t help matters.

But as I had watched his face contort in pain — and the absolute look of defeat in his eyes as he spoke — I realized he had a story. I’d just been too shitty of a friend to realize it needed to be told.