“I would sooner get a job jerking off Minotaurs or whatever the fuck you people were reading last month.” He says it so seriously, I have to hold my breath to keep from laughing out loud.
He leaves us to laugh at him, and Myra helps me out of the boots and pants.
“You know he means well, right? Not that it excuses how he behaved.”
“I know. And I truly believe he’s sorry and won’t ever do that again, I’m just feeling a bit sensitive. When Luc drove off, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach, you know?”
She nods and places a hand on my arm. “You’re raw right now, but it’s because he just left. That’s a normal thing to feel in a relationship, Jesse. You’ve just never experienced it before.”
“No, I have. That’s why it scares me so much. Because the last time I felt this way, I walked away and ended up losing him.”
I take a drag from my cigarette and lean back on the patio chair. I’ll regret smoking this much during this weekend’s show, but I only have so many vices left. I can’t bear to be inside the suite for too long. All day it felt too loud and too crowded. Now everyone’s gone, and I still can’t breathe.
Expelling the lungful of smoke, I watch the clove-scented cloud dissipate into the night sky.
I finally found quiet, but it’s too loud.
Nothing makes sense now that you’ve come around.
The stillness is too heavy, every breath is too loud.
Ugh. I’m annoyed by my own angst, but I stub out my cigarette and head inside to find my notebook. Sometimes even a shitty idea can take shape when I write it down, or if I come back to it later.
Eyeing the candy dish, I opt for gum instead. Maybe having something to chew on will help.
The notebook is on the bedside table, but when I walk into the bedroom I pause. The sheets are still tangled in a heap, the pillows still have indents from where we slept. There are questionable stains everywhere, but I don’t care. I climb into the bed and crawl over to the last spot he was lying in, pressing my face into his pillow and taking a deep breath of his lingering scent mixed with mine.
When Luc first arrived, he smelled like clean laundry,Irish Springsoap, and something earthy, like he’s spent so much of his life out in the sun that the grass and soil soaked into his skin. By the time he left, he smelled more like my spicy shampoo and body wash, which made me feel a bit like a caveman.
Right now, though, it just makes me feel lonely. I’m not usually one to get very lonely, although I do occasionally need a distraction from my own thoughts. But today, even goofing off with my best friends, I felt disconnected.
I never knew there was such a gaping space in my heart until I met you.
Rolling over, I grab my notebook and jot down the last few thoughts. I’m not in the headspace to write anything but sad emo ballads. I flip through the last few pages, at all the lovesick scribbles about how he sets my veins on fire, how I could live on the press of our skin together, never needing to eat or drink anything but him. It’s honestly gross.
Fuck, I miss him.
I glance at my phone and note the late hour. He texted to let me know he was home earlier, but was feeling tired and had a headache. We’ve texted on and off throughout the day, but it doesn’t feel right. With every text, I feel him pulling away as viscerally as I did when the car drove him away from me.
Staring at our text thread until my vision swims, I finally type something out. The only thing I can do is make sure he knows the ball is in his court.
ME: My day is finally over. I hope you’re getting some rest and feel better in the morning.
To my surprise, he texts back immediately.
Blushing Beefcake: I feel like I got hit by a truck.
Same. My heart kicks as I try to type out how I’m feeling, then delete it and go with something simpler.
ME: Physically or emotionally?
Instead of texting a reply, my screen lights up with an incoming call. He’s calling me?
“Luc?”
“Both,” he says, not bothering with hello. There’s a breath, then a chuckle, low and worn.
I lie back on the pillow he had his head on only twelve hours ago. “Tell me where it hurts.”
