My teeth grind. Fuck him. He’s not worth my time!
So why the fuck do I lean back in my chair and continue to glare at the fucker, while drinking this god-awful beer?
The longer I sit and watch, the more upset I get. I don’t fucking know why.
Every time Roland smiles down at Bennett, shifts his body closer, or laughs at what he says, the more the pain in my chest grows.
Why the fuck does he get to be out and happy? Why does he get to live his true self, without so much as a fucking blink of an eye, while I have to hide in the closet?
Why can he be gay, but it’s a death sentence for me?
It’s not fucking fair.
When Roland leans in and kisses Bennett, that's my last straw. My heart races as pain splinters through my chest. Throwing my beer bottle on the ground, it shatters as I stand to my feet. People look my way, but I don’t pay them any attention.
Stumbling around the side of the house, I find the gate that leads to the front yard.
I’m through with this night and done with him. Fuck that asshole. He can have Roland. He can have whoever he wants! I don’t fucking care who he’s with, but I’m not going to sit around and watch it.
I’m vibrating with anger as I walk down the street, my head spinning and my stomach turning. If it’s cold, I wouldn’t know. All I feel is anger, resentment, hurt, and longing.
Too many fucking feelings going on at once.
“Easton!” I hear my name being called.
Brows furrowing, I look over my shoulder. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl when I see none other than the bane of my existence.
What the hell is he doing following me?
“Go back to your boyfriend!” I shout, deciding to take a shortcut through the park.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Bennett huffs, his voice sounding closer.
“Sure looked like it. Could the man be any more obvious? He was all over you.” I scoff.
“He was not. He had his arm around me. That's it.”
“You call shoving his tongue down your throat modest? You should look that word up.”
“What does it matter to you?” he asks. “Why do you care who does or doesn’t kiss me?”
“It doesn’t!” I shout as I jog down the little hill.
“Easton, where are you going? It’s dark out. You’re going to get lost.”
I snort. “I know this park like I know the back of my damn hand,” I shoot back.
This is the park Bennett and I would spend hours in as kids, exploring and making memories.
I know where I am. I know that the pond is to my right. The same pond we would skip rocks on, or go fishing in, even though there were no fish in the damn thing, and race our little paper boats.
And I know that the playground is to the left of me. The playground we’d spend hours on making up games and playing. Behind that is the treehouse.
The treehouse where we’d watch movies, have sleepovers, and play board games. The same treehouse that this asshole kissed me in, and had to change everything.
“It’s all your fucking fault,” I grind out.
“What is?” His voice sounds closer, making me jump.
