My eyes sting, both for what I’m about to admit and how much I appreciate Gary’s friendship.
“I—” I break off as my breath stalls. I clear my throat and try again. “I, um… I kind of am in love with him.”
And just like that, the storm comes to life again. I slam my mouth shut, try to keep it inside, but it rages and shakes in my chest, tries to claw its way out. My hands tremble. I think my blood does too. It feels like my skin is vibrating. I bury my face in my hands, my erratic breaths bouncing off my palms. My body jerks from the force of trying to hold it all back.
The floor shifts slightly, and then Alvarez’s shoulder bumps into mine. “I’ve got big shoulders if you need one, man.”
Ah, fuck it. I nod and turn blindly to him. The minute my forehead hits his shoulder, the dam breaks—my sobs rip free, rushing forward like a team storming the field after a win. But this is nothing like a win. I’m the losing team. I’m the one watching the winner celebrate while being buried under crushing defeat.
Gary pats my back stiffly. “Uh… It’s going to be okay, I think,” he says hesitantly. “Uh, there, there…” Everything about this is awkward and clumsy, and it has my sobs morphing into hiccups of laughter.
We’re so out of our element right now. It’s such a shame the world raises men to fear emotions, to see them as weakness. Rage is acceptable. Using our fists—violence—is somehow preferred over tears. Vulnerability? Forget it, not allowed. I know it’s just toxic masculinity projecting on me, but it’s so ingrained that every time I fall apart, a tiny voice underneath it all whispers I’m less of a man for getting upset like this. I can’t silence it, even though I know it’s wrong.
Which is why I can’t stop the, “I’m sorry,” that falls from my lips when I pull away from him. I shouldn’t be sorry. I don’t need to be.
“Dude, I don’t care. There’s been a lot worse shit on my shirt than your snot.”
I grimace and side-eye him. “I don’t even want to know.”
It breaks the tension, though, and we both smile.
“So, you kind of love Winters, eh?”
I groan as I lean back against my bed and stare at the ceiling. I talk to it instead of Gary, because somehow it makes it all a little easier to voice. “No kind of about it. I’ve been in love with the stupid man since we were like twelve. I can’t keep doing it, Gare.”
My shoulders bend under the weight of it all. The fatigue is a hand around my neck trying to press me down, submerge me under water. It’s fucking exhausting—loving someone who can’t love you back. The constant need to bury your feelings so no one, especiallythem, will see. The never-ending heartbreak. Seeing them with other people, other people in the position you’ve always dreamed of being in. And even when that spot is up for grabs—you break. Because that spot won’t ever be open for you.
“I’m just really tired. I don’t want to love him anymore. I want to move on.”
I don’t want to feel so alone anymore.
“I’m sorry. That’s a fucking shitty spot to be in. How can I help? Do you need a wingman?”
A slightly hysterical laugh bubbles up in my chest. It’s horribly ironic in a sick and twisted way. It seems Easton doesn’t want sex until he’s formed an emotional connection. The only sex I’ve ever wanted is completely void of it. Meaningless sex. I don’t want emotions and intimacy. Not unless that’s with East. That’s the only way it’d ever mean something to me. And it’s so God-damned lonely to be that close to a person—and feel nothing. I want connection. I want someone who will love me back.
“I don’t think someone else is the answer. I’ve tried that. I think the only thing that’s going to work is time. Time without him.” And that reality fucking sucks.
“You know what will help?”
I turn toward Alvarez and lift a brow.
A sly smirk spreads across his face. “Batting cages. Nothing feels better than crushing a ball. Bash away all that emotion.”
Is that…is that lightness I feel in my chest? Fuck, I think it is. “That’s brilliant, Alvarez.” Will it magically make all this disappear? No. But will it provide an escape? God, it will. A glorious escape.
He dusts off his shoulders like he’s hot shit. “Yeah, you know. I have a few of those now and again.”
“It’d be closed now. Tomorrow?”
He grins. “You know what I’m also brilliant at?”
I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Flirting. I’m in pretty…ah…tight with the owner there. She gave me a set of keys.”
My eyes shoot wide. I’m…impressed.
“So, you in?”
