That makes sense.
“I don’t belong here,” I blurt out, before thinking.
“None of us do. We’re just smart enough to keep that information to ourselves.”
“Something doesn't feel right, Lucas. I’m on edge like something bad is gonna happen. Gut feeling,” I say as I stare up at the night sky, knots of anxiety forming in my stomach.
“You’re right to be wary. But that means we need to stay alert, keep focused on the job. No distractions.”
I look at Lucas, as that last statement feels personally directed at me.
“Why would I be distracted?”
“Don’t play dumb, Simon.”
Whatever. I can’t deal with a confrontation right now. As I turn to stare back out over the balcony, something in my peripheral catches my attention. Who the fuck is that?
I look down to see Carlos with another man. Someone I don’t recognize, and I don’t like him. He’s too tall, too confident with that casual overfamiliar arm slung over Carlos’ shoulder like it belonged there. Carlos tilts his head back, laughing at something the stranger says, and the sound cuts through me like glass. Since when does Carlos laugh like that? I can’t believe what I’m witnessing right now. It's like a punch to the gut, dragging irritation and bitterness in its wake.
I can feel heat crawling up my neck. I can’t lie, I’m fucking hating how Carlos is leaning in to this guy, how easy his body language is, open and inviting. I’ve felt closeness to Carlos, especially after opening up, but I’ve never experienced him being free like this with me.
That's because you’re a dick to him and push him away. You’re never happy.
The touching isn’t even the worst part, it's the way Carlos is looking at this guy as he speaks. Eyes bright and warm. This is fucking insane. Who is this Carlos?
I’m not supposed to care. Why do I care?
Carlos and the mystery man part ways and Carlos walks back into the house.
I’m seething. I’m so pissed and jealous right now I could tear the balcony of steel apart.
“What are you staring at?” Lucas says, and he moves next to me to follow my line of sight. I forgot he was here.
“Nothing.”
With a puzzled look on his face he goes to leave.
“Listen, I’m starving. Let's go get something to eat. We need the fuel in case anything happens.”
“I’m not hungry,” I say, sick to my stomach. I’m gonna kill him. I literally sucked him off hours ago, and he’s already hiding in the garden with some random fucking guy? Did he do it on purpose? Knowing that he was under my room?
“Then force yourself to eat. Come on, let's go,” he says and I follow behind him like a dog. But there's something I need to do first.
“I’ll meet you down there. There’s something I have to do first.”
“Okay, but don’t be long.”
Fuck off, Lucas. Why does everyone talk to me like a child?
Maybe because you are acting like one. Oh, shut the hell up, Si.
On autopilot and ignoring anyone I pass in the hallways, I’m on one mission, to get to Carlos’ room which is at the other end of the hallway from mine.
When I arrive, I storm inside and shut the door behind me to find no Carlos here. Bastard. Has he gone off with that guy somewhere else?
I stand in the middle of this over the top room, my chest heaving, my fists clenched so tight that my knuckles have lost all circulation. The smell in here irritates me, it smells like Carlos. Clean sheets, expensive cologne, the faint citrus scent of the bodywash he uses. It's suffocating.
The image of Carlos laughing with that whore burns behind my eyes, each replay sharper than the last. The sound of his goddamn laugh and the way he leaned into that guy. It hurts and I don’t want to acknowledge why it fucking hurts. Why can’t he be like that with me? Does anyone enjoy being around me?
