The lights stretch from the blurriness of my vision, and I know the alcohol isn’t to blame. Not this time.
His words echo in my brain.You don’t know how to do things for yourself.
I grind my jaw, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to let loose. Pulling up to a stop light, I take a deep breath, counting to ten.
Another stress relief tactic I learned in the last few years…
I stare at the red light, my mind replaying another time, when we stood beneath flashing red lights, dancing, and just… being.
Cam’s harsh words reverberate as I push the thoughts away.
Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be so miserable now.
One tear escapes, unable to remain caged. The sounds of Adele crooning on about wanting to meet after all these years, fills the spaceand I let out a shaky sigh.
His words were like sharp knives, cutting through me and exposing the truth.
Maybe I am miserable, but Cam’s words, his entire demeanor… he isn’t quite happy, either.
I guess misery loves company even if they don’t want to admit it.
I pull into my driveway, the motion lights coming on upon my arrival. Once I’m inside the house, I collapse on the couch in the living room. I run my hand over my face, my fingers trailing along the dried tears as I let out a deep breath and stare at the ceiling.
He’d told me to go back to myperfect life. But the truth is, my life is the farthest thing from perfect.
I’ve spent the last seven years—and probably a lot longer, really—living up to others’ expectations because it was how I was raised. I was expected to be a good son, a good husband, a good friend.But I’m none of those things.
I screw up everything I touch, and I always have. The tears come easier now, and I let them. I glance around my living room, at the artwork on the walls. I get up, walk up to the large sixteen by twenty painting of blue and white flowers that I’m certain a thousand other people have hanging in their houses.
I hate it. I’ve always hated it because it’s notme.It’s been on my wall for seven years, and I’ve always just let it go, but for some reason, I can’t let it go.
Not tonight.
I tear it down with one strike. It collapses to the ground, the blank, grey wall empty now, a void of space to fill.
Why won’t you give up?he’d yelled.
I stare at the empty spot, licking my lips.
Cam’s always been the fighter. He never gives up. It’s one of the things I’ve always loved about him. But me? Maybe that’s my problem. All I’ve ever done is give up. I’ve never had to fight for anything.
Because I never had anything worth fighting for before and everything else was just handed to me.
But I know without a doubt, Cameron Scott is worth the fight, and I’m not going to give up on making things right. I’m not going to give up on my best friend.
When I get to my bedroom, I take out my phone, setting it on my nightstand as I get undressed, piece by piece until I’m down to my underwear. I crawl into bed and get comfortable.
My cock twitches, clearly because it has a mind of its own.
It isn’t often I get this kind of time to myself unless I’m traveling, which isn’t as often as I would like, which reminds me that I need to pack for my upcoming trip to New York.
I’d been putting this trip off for months if only because there’s a part of me that isn’t sure I should keep pursuing this dream of releasingA War of Fire & Ice.I’ve been working on it since college, with every intention of moving BrewTech beyond my home office, but finding the right place for my company has been, well, a struggle.
Nothing meets my vision or my standards, and I’m starting to worry it never will.
I absentmindedly adjust my cock, turning on my side, and tell myself I’ll pack in the morning.
I try to ignore the annoying desire plaguing me, but then I remember it’s been awhile since I’ve really been by myself in this house. I think about Cam’s words, how he’d told me I never do anything for myself.
