When I finally built up my courage and headed back home to Bubba, I didn’t know what I wanted with him, but I knew I wanted him in my life. I knew I wanted to kiss him again. Before the engine died down, I jumped out of the truck, rushed up the steps to the trailer, and yanked the door open, ready to run into my future.
I was too late.
He replaced me.
He fuckin’ threw me away. For some hot piece of ass who sucks up the oxygen like a vacuum cleaner with his slutty tops, shorter-than-short shorts, and an ass you could bounce a dollar bill off of.I know Bubba says I’ve got a cute butt, but after touching Ezra’s a minute ago, I don’t think it even comes close.
I know I was wrong for leaving, but he was supposed to wait for me. He wasn’t supposed to give up on me, because even though I know I ain’t worth much, I’m worth fighting for. He knew I was struggling. He knew I couldn’t tell up from down. I liked Annie. I liked looking at her, because she was easy on the eyes. I liked talking to her, because she could talk my ear off and still have me asking to hear more. But sexually? I don’t think I ever felt that way for her. She’s a good woman who deserves to be desired, but I never felt desire for her. I figured I just had a low sex drive, but sometimes, when I look at Bubba, my cock gets so fuckin’ hard, it could probably cut steel. When I look at him now, I feel it. Desire. If I’m being brutally honest with myself, I think I feel it for Ezra too. The feelings are conflicting. I hate him. I hate him for his snarky comments and all the cruel digs he throws my way. That fuckin’ ass, though. Jesus Christ. I almost shot my load while I was touching it. I had to walk away so I wouldn’t cream my jeans. God. If Ezra ever heard me saying, “Cream my jeans,” he’d never let me hear the end of it. His little cock was twitching and everything. I’ve seen it so many times, thanks to his casual public masturbation. I’ve also seen it on my phone a few times.
Ezra doesn’t know I’ve been subscribed to his OnlyFans for the last two months. He has no idea I watch every live stream, hoping to find something to turn Bubba off him. A soundbyte so damning, Bubba could never overlook it. I’ve listened with earbuds in, recording every scene, needing to find a way to get him out of my life and away from Bubba. Every day, he logs on. Every day, he does his psychic readings. Every single day, he pulls out his cock and strokes it to completion.
I don’t watch him for pleasure, because I still don’t know where I rest on the rainbow—if I even rest on it at all—but I do watch him.
I keepwatchinghim.
“Where the fuck am I supposed to sit?” His voice pulls me out of my head and back to the present, sounding loud and shrill to the point I doubt we’ll catch any fish today,
Blinking, I try to break the foggy haze his new speedo has me in. I don’t know if it’s the color pattern or what, but I’m pretty sure they’ve got some hypnotic optical illusion effect, because it feels like my eyes can’t physically look away.
“Huh?”
He points into the boat. “There are only two seats. Where the hell did you think I was going to sit when you planned this? On the floor?”
“I didn’t plan for you to be here at all,” I remind him.
“And that was your first mistake,” he says, nodding. “I know what you were doing. You’re trying to drive a wedge between Bubba and me.”
“Ezzy,” Bubba warns, squeezing his shoulder.
Ezra sighs. “Fine. Fuck it, fine, I take it back. I’m sorry, Johnny.”
Bubba arches an eyebrow at me like he expects me to apologize too. Well, fuck that. I ain’t apologizing for jack-shit. I didn’t do anything wrong.
But that isn’t really true, is it? It won’t be soon, at least. Not after I pull the prank to end all pranks. I won’t feel bad about it, neither. Not even a little bit, because Ezra has pranked me more times than I can remember. If he ain’t pouring bleach on my clothes when no one is looking, he’s hiding in the darkest cracks and crevices of our home with cum-filled water balloons in his hand and cruelty in his heart.
I don’t know why the fuck Little Dick Edwards over there makes it a habit of collecting his cum in water balloons, or why he feels the need to throw them at me when they’re full, but it’s fucking gross. I’ve probably had more facials than the average gay guy gets in an entirelifetime, and I don’t think Ezra has any intention of slowing down. He don’t have his precious balloons with him now, though, so we’ll see how he likes it when the shoe is on the other foot. Or, in Ezra’s case, on the hot-pink cowboy boot.
“Where the hell am I supposed to sit?” he asks again.
I point at the floor. “You had the right idea a second ago.”
“The floor?” His mouth falls open. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. I was just being a cheeky boy. I assumed even you, the heartless bastard you are, wouldn’t expect me to sit in the bottom of this God-forsaken, rickety, old stack of boards, crudely nailed together.” He spots the bucket where we usually keep the fish we catch, and he looks like he’s going to be sick. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
“What do you think it is?” Bubba asks.
“I can only assume it’s a portable toilet system where you relieve your bladders and empty your bowels” His cheeks puff out like he’s puking, and he covers his mouth. “I am not sitting beside a bucket of your combined poos.”
I know Ezra’s a little soft around the edges, but so am I, because the thought of having to sit next to a poop bucket makes me feel physically ill, and I wretch like I’m going to hurl. “You think we just sit around sniffing a bucketful of shit all day?”
“Don’t say stuff like that. It’s gross, Johnny.”
“You said it first,” I argue, flinging my hands in the air in frustration. “You always fuckin’ do this, man. You throw nukes, then hide your hands. You’re trying to set me up to look stupid. Bubba might not see it, but I do. I see right fuckin’ through you.”
“Oh, yeah? Can you see through this?” He flips me off.
I blink at him, because I ain’t really sure what he means. “Your fingers ainn’t see-through, bro.”
He sighs and scrubs his face with his hand, then turns and looks at Bubba, holding his hands up to his chest like the entire situation offends him. “I’m sorry, Bubba. I tried, but I cannot do this today. I simply cannot.”
