Three Strikes - 30. Crumbling

A person can only tolerate so much self-reflection before it becomes detrimental to one's health. That’s how I was feeling by ten o’clock the next morning. The realization that I was a fuck-tard was weighing heavily on me—so much so that I’d started to feel depressed, which wasn’t a normal feeling for me. I was a good person—I worked with sick kids, was debt free (minus my home), ate relatively healthy, worked out (sometimes), and treated people with respect (more often than not). But mostly, I was a jerk who’d hid behind all of the good things I’d done.

I sulked my way to the kitchen. I’d just gone shopping and my kitchen was stocked with food, yet, there was nothing I wanted to eat. It was ironic, if I’d thought about it. Everything I needed was in front of me, yet I was too moody to see it or enjoy it. I’d probably end up dying alone. Who’d want a fool like me? I couldn’t even grow old with a house full of dogs or cats to keep me company because I was too selfish to take care of animals. Also, ironic.

I opened and closed the refrigerator for the tenth time before settling on a glass of orange juice even though what I really wanted was a doughnut. I looked around the house as I swirled the juice around in circles. I needed something to keep me busy, something to keep my mind occupied.

The last thing I wanted to do was remember the most humiliating night of my life. In a selfish act to get closer to Shane, I’d embarrassed him, made him look insane in front of Davis, insulted him, and made myself look to be the biggest jackass ever—not only to Shane but everyone. I’d actually considered dropping out of the league because I didn’t want to face anyone again.

I spotted my vintage blue hutch. Bingo. It was the black hole of my house, the thing that collected all homeless items, things I was too lazy to properly put away, things that needed to sit around a little while longer before I finally felt at peace enough to throw away, things that were odd shaped, or you know—the color, orange.

I was a half hour deep into the project when I started to regret it. It required more energy than I had and was a little more than I was prepared to take on, considering my emotionally deprived state. I had no clue what to do—the living room floor was full of piles of similar items and I was only half way through the crap.

I could’ve shoved it all back in, but then all of that work would’ve been wasted, or I could continued on finish finish it. I looked around at the mess I’d made.

Or, I thought to myself, I could burn the house down.

A knock on the door distracted me from my arsonous thoughts. Not only was I not expecting anyone, I was heavily counting on spending the day alone. There wasn’t a molecule in my body that wanted to see anyone after the previous night’s nightmare. Hoping it was a lost soul looking for directions or the random, but always welcome, Saturday delivery, I decided to answer the door.

“We thought we’d stop by and see how the wedding planning is coming,” Aaron teased as he entered without permission.

The comment felt extra salty on the gaping wound that wasn’t only my ego, but the weird insecurity I felt regarding Shane. Not wanting to appear as weak and vulnerable as I’d felt, I bit my cheek and held back my reaction. I guess I didn’t school my reaction as well as I’d thought because Nick saw right through me.

“Calm your tits, we brought doughnuts. We figured you’d be having a hankering for half maple and half chocolate. Hashtag-depressed-Donovan.”

Nick held up a pink box from a small doughnut shop we frequented whenever the need arose. It was true, I had a tendency to stuff my gullet with deep fried desserts when I wasn’t feeling my best, which explained my hankering. I smiled as I grabbed the box and walked to the table.

“Do you know what would go perfect with this?” I asked as I sat down and pulled out a perfectly rationed doughnut. Aaron and Nick both raised a brow and waited for me to continue.

“Eating it…alone.”

I was dead serious and I gave them a look that conveyed my seriousness. I appreciated the doughnuts, but had no desire for the company they’d come with. They were nothing but witnesses that had no problem rubbing the night into my face.

“Actually—” Aaron hesitated, but Nick looked at Aaron with a nod of encouragement and, when Aaron didn’t continue, finished the sentence for him.

“We came here for a reason.”

It was Nick’s words that had made me realize Aaron and Nick had come together…alone, which was strange because I was unaware they were friends and Nick was rarely seen without Nelly. I felt my stomach drop with dread. There had to have been some sort of serious conversation, to which they’d decided the best plan of action was to join forces and tag team me. My mind started to fracture with the stress of figuring out why one of the DONNAS and one of the DAKS were standing united, with doughnuts, in my kitchen.

“Oh, god, what? I’m going to be sick,” I mumbled as my eyes darted between the two.

The look on their faces gave me no confidence whatsoever and made my heart start to beat erratically. It had to have been Nelly, something must’ve happened. Nick and he were never apart.

“Where’s Nel?”

“At home. Why?”

“Why isn’t he with you? Is something wrong?”

“Nel is fine, mostly. But—”

It was Nicks turn to hesitate. Aaron straightened up and took a deep breath before continuing.

“But stuff happened last night. More accurately, things were said and now Nelly is an inconsolable wreck because he knows you’re going to be upset, especially because of how things went down before you left.”

I guess they thought that was enough of an explanation because neither of them felt the need to expand. I looked at them as though they needed to continue ASAP or die. Which I might have.

“Would one of you care to explain?” I shouted when neither of them continued.

That was all they needed to start spewing the events of the night. Eventually, after I’d made a fool of myself and left, everyone started drinking and I assumed they’d talked about my foolishness. They never explicitly said that but I think it was implied. Instead, they told me Nelly and Drew had been flirting. While trying to impress Drew, Nelly had started drinking more. It wasn’t long before Drew started talking about sex, which he always did, and drunk Nelly was more than willing to share the details of his life in an effort to impress him.

“Drew started asking about three-ways,” Aaron looked at me, sympathetically, and I knew what they were going to say next so, in a panic, I asked.

“Who all was there? Who was at the table?”

“Everyone,” he confirmed.

“Everyone?” I softly reiterated to myself. I met Aarons gaze, shook my head, and begged him to tell me it was everyone except Shane. He shook his head, apologetically.

“No!”

Nick lifted his hands and continued.

“The second he started talking, I tried to distract him. I tried to derail the conversation, but I couldn’t. Ollie and Sammy were surprised, and upset, that they didn’t know. Drew thought it was awesome. Everyone kept encouraging Nelly to talk. It wasn’t until Shane spoke that Nelly realized what had happened and started to freak out—”

I’d put my hand up to stop Nick from talking.

“Wait! What did Shane say?” My stomach was in knots and there was no doubt that any quick movements would’ve made me expel my food.

“He asked when it happened. I swear D, Nelly feels terrible. He didn’t realize. He was drunk!”

I sunk my face into my hands and screamed semi silently. Then, as I ran my fingers through my hair, I yelled into what felt like was the dark hole destruction.

“I really fucking hate my life right now! Fucking Allé! I didn’t even want to do it! I didn’t want to have sex with you guys, you guys pressured me. I didn’t want anyone to know and now Shane will hate me forever. I’m such a fucking idiot! What is wrong with me?”

Breathing was becoming difficult so Aaron pushed me down until my head was between my legs. I definitely felt like I was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“First of all, fuck you, Donovan!”

I looked up to see one, extremely red-faced redhead.

“No one forced you to do anything. You’re a grown-ass man who was more than willing! I’ve seen you put up a fight before, but that’s not what you did that morning. And before you try to make excuses, both Nelly and I were awake when you and Allé were talking. Allen was a jerk for suggesting anything, but you’re a jerk for agreeing. No one took advantage of you. If anything, you took advantage of Nelly who, by the way, feels really fucking terrible about last night, but in all reality, he shouldn’t!”

I sat there, wide-eyed, as Nick continued to rant on about how: selfish I was; everyone always does what I want to do; I never consider anyone else's feelings; I never help anyone else get laid, but they’re expected to drop everything to wingman for me; and even though Nelly had a crush on me, he’d decided a long time ago he wasn’t interested because I was too selfish and self-righteous.

Next, he moved on to the fact that I’ve never had a relationship that lasted longer than a month or so (which was an exaggeration, but not by much). Apparently, everyone realized my habit of making guys feel like crap and never forgiving them for any of their shortcomings until I finally found all of the reasons why they weren’t good enough and dumped them.

He gladly pointed out the similarities in my relationship with Shane. Having previously talked to Aaron, or someone else that was there the night I dumped Shane, Nick also reiterated that they’d collectively shut down Davis and the rest of the conversation was banter that had nothing to do with me. And he explained how I’d overreacted and dumped Shane because I was looking for an out, as always.

The previous night at the bar, I’d come to the realization (all by myself) that I was a shitty person. With the vail already pulled away, it was easy to look back and see everything Nick had said was true, albeit fucking harsh. It wasn’t only Shane who got the shit end of my stick, it was everyone. I didn’t stop him, no matter how much I’d wanted to jump in and defend myself, I allowed him to release years of hurt and frustration. By the time Nick had finished ripping me to shreds, I could barely hold myself together. I could barely bring myself to look him in the eyes as I apologized.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

If I said anything more, I wouldn’t have been able to hold back the emotion that was pressing, like a freight train, against my chest. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop my lips from quivering and I stared off into space to stop the tears from falling. There was so much more I wanted to say, but my need to not fall apart was stronger.

I saw Nick run his hands over his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off like that.”

“It’s true, though,” I shrugged.

He didn’t respond. No one felt the need to confirm the truth out loud. We sat in a tense silence until I composed myself enough to give a proper apology and promised to talk to Nelly right away. After walking Aaron and Nick out, I flopped down on the couch. I still felt the emotion bubbling inside of me.

It was as if every cell in my body was trying not to explode while my skin pulsed and tingled. I stared, aimlessly, at nothing until I couldn’t handle it anymore so I got up and stuffed all of the crap I’d left in organized piles on my living room floor back into the hutch. I wasted a few more hours on mindless activities until I couldn’t stand that, either.

I slipped on my shoes and a jacket, grabbed my keys from the bowl, and as my fingers grazed the torn piece of paper that was left behind, I hesitated. My fingers lightly strummed over it as I mulled the option around in my mind. Without another thought, I grabbed it and locked the door behind me.

I don’t have to go. If I happen to be in the area I can stop by.

I looked down at the paper, 38923 West Edison Drive #1109. It was across town where there was nothing and no reason to be in the area. That wasn’t true, there was a reason to be in the area, but only one.

I slipped my sunglasses on and pulled out of the driveway. The resting bitch face was strong as I drove. It was the one thing that kept the emotional monster inside of me at bay. It was as if my body knew, if I tried to smile or move my facial features, even a fraction of a centimeter, the floodgates would break.

I was content to space out while I drove. Being void of thoughts, emotions, and self-loathing would feel like an exotic beach vacation. Instead, I was bombarded as snippets of my past as they played through my mind and slapped me in the face while Nick’s words from the morning narrated like a Morgan Freeman documentary, but far less captivating.

The longer I drove, the less confidence I had. By the time I reached West Edison Drive, the only stable and consistent thing about me was my stoned expressions. Underneath my calm exterior was pure and total chaos.

After I reached a giant gate, I looked at the paper again. 38923 West Edison Drive #1109. I punched #1109 into the box and the gate opened. It was disappointing. I didn’t really want the gate to open—I wanted to go home. And that’s what I thought about as I passed the house. I should’ve stopped but I didn’t. I kept driving until it was out of view. I couldn’t do it.

*** *** *** ***

I worked as many hours as possible the following week. I didn’t turn down a single shift, not even when it conflicted with baseball—especially when it conflicted with baseball. I felt like a zombie all week and it took everything I had to function like a proper human. My lack luster didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, not even the kids. Normally I was an open book, but this week I was tight lipped. Even if I wanted to share, I was still trying to figure things out myself.

I should’ve talked to Nelly, but I didn’t. I didn’t talk to anyone. The daily calls and messages remained unanswered, day after day. I probably could’ve handled everything with more maturity, but I needed space to deal with my emotional shortcomings. As the week went on I slowly started to feel better, not much, but enough to talk myself into Friday’s game.

I was nervous as fuck as I walked to the field. I’d ditched my no hat rule in lieu of the privacy and security of a hat and sunglasses. I had no clue what was coming, but I suspected my recent solo lifestyle wasn’t going to go without comment.

There was a definite unease in my stomach as I saw everyone hanging out together. DAKS had a game before us and were probably staying to watch. It was normal enough, it’s what we did, but now I was the odd man out and everything was weird. They were probably talking about me. I would’ve been talking shit about me if I was them. Luckily it was almost time for the game to start and they were over by the opponent’s dugout so I was able to sneak past with no fuss.

Or so I thought. After hanging my bag up, I glanced over to see them staring at me. I turned away and grabbed Randy, who was standing in the dugout with a few others, and asked if he’d warm up with me. I managed to warm up in peace, but all bets were off when I got back to the dugout.

“He lives and breathes!” Nelly said with a none to subtle sarcastic note.

“You know, work. Lots of extra shifts.”

I gave my best forced smile and headed to the huddle, then out to the field. My anxiety was starting to spike. I thought I was doing better, but being around everyone was sending me spiraling. Once they realized I was inverting, they stopped flicking me shit. Nick even tried to talk to me, but I shrugged him off. I knew it hurt his feelings, he probably thought I was angry at him, but I was back to feeling extremely emotional and if I didn’t get out of there fast, I was going to break down.

As soon as we won and shook hands with the other team, I was out of there. I was faintly aware that there were members of DAKS trying to get my attention, not Shane, of course, but the others. As a distraction, I thumbed through my phone like a teenager as I walked away.

If I thought space was what I needed, I’d been wrong. By Sunday afternoon the treat that held my life together was fraying to the point of breaking. I needed to talk to my friends, to apologize or something. It’s just that everything was so overwhelming and I didn’t know where to start. Hell, for all I knew I’d pissed them off past the point of return. I had to try.

With every intention of starting with Nick and Nelly, I grabbed my keys and got in my car. It wasn’t until I was punching the gate code in that I realized I was a long ways from my destination.

I drove around the block until I couldn’t avoid 38923 without having the cops called for suspicious activity. I parked and walked to the door. Knowing I couldn’t hesitated, I knocked and waited.

And waited.

I heard rushed footsteps, obviously in a hurry to get to the door, moments before it was whipped open. The look on Shane’s face confirmed he hadn’t expected me to be standing there. He leaned against the door frame and looked at me with a quizzical brow.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Being face to face with him was a bit overwhelming in my brokenness. I was already biting the inside of my cheek, trying to keep away from the emotional edge that I was teetering on. I couldn’t talk. It was as if uttering a single word would send me spiraling over the edge. I knew that speech would’ve made the tears fall, for sure. I shrugged and averted my gaze, thankful that I was still hiding behind the protection of sunglasses.

His confusion was obvious in both his voice and his hesitated movements as he opened the door wider.

“O…kay. Would you like to come in?”

I stepped in and looked around. The sheetrock was up and mudded but not textured, the flooring was plywood, plastic sheeting was draped over the doorways, and it smelled like construction. I remembered that he’d mentioned remodeling. I didn’t have the vision to see past the mess, but I could tell it was going to be nice because the layout was open and the house was a decent size.

“I’m not exactly prepared for entertaining, but there’s a stool in the kitchen.”

I nodded and followed him through the house until we reached the kitchen, which was large and the closest thing to being finished that I’d seen. Sure enough, there was one stool sitting at the island. He motioned for me to take a seat as he stood and leaned against his elbows on the opposite side. We sat in silence as he watched me nervously fidget with my fingers. I knew he couldn’t tell, but I was trying to compose myself enough to say something…anything.

My bottom lip started to quiver, which signaled the start of an avalanche of emotion. I bit my cheek harder, then my lip, and then my tongue—anything to stop it—but it was too late, I felt the silent tears escaping as they cascaded down my cheek.

I wasn’t shaking, I wasn’t sniffling—just lots of tears. Where did they come from? They started tickling so I wiped them from my lips. The movement must’ve alerted Shane that something was off because the next moment, he was standing next to me.

“Donovan?”

The genuine concern in his voice broke me. Whatever thread of self-control I had was obliviated by his close proximity. He pulled the sunglasses away and I hid my face against his chest, I wasn’t ready to face him.

He wrapped his arms around me. “What’s wrong?”

It was paralyzing to sit there; unable to control myself; to speak words or look him in the eye. I started to bawl and sob—full on ugly crying. I was surprised he was able to keep a hold on me the way I was shaking. I tried to speak but couldn’t manage.

“I—I”

After about the tenth failed attempt at verbal communication, Shane picked me up and carried me into a different room. I kept my face buried against his chest, even when we were lying down with me tucked between his body and the...couch? His arms were wrapped tightly around me as his fingers rubbed up and down my back.

It was quite some time before I calmed down. Shane never once questioned me or pushed me to hurry my breakdown along. He just held me, soothed me, and whispered encouragement into my ear. I finally reached the point where I thought I was capable of communication. I took a deep breath and tried to stay steady.

“I’m sorry.”

My chest was still doing that emotional hiccupping thing it does when you’re completely wrecked.

“For what, exactly?”

“Everything! Oh god. I’ve fucked up so much, you don’t even know what I’m apologizing for! There’s so many things!” I fisted his shirt with both hands and pathetically cried out as I burrowed deeper into his body.

I started to shake again, except, it wasn’t me…it was Shane. Shane was laughing at me, which only made me cry, harder. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull myself together.

Shane squeezed me. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just—amusing to see you like this.” He tried lifting my face but I refused.

“No. I can’t look at you.”

“Okay, but at least tell me what’s going on. I’m flying blind here. I have no clue what’s made you so upset. Is it my fault? Was it me?”

“No, fuck no. It’s me. I’m such an asshole! I constantly made you feel like crap, dumped you for no reason, made you feel like more crap, then a crap pile, got jealous, and ruined things for you and your job. I’m so selfish and I never think of anyone other than myself. I’ve always done this. I always do this. This is why no one likes me…because I’m such a bitch!” I sobbed hysterically against his chest and continued to ramble on about all of my shortcomings, everything I’d done wrong, and all of the things I’d fucked up. “And I feel like I don’t deserve your forgiveness, not that you ever would…how could you? I’ve been terrible. After everything you’ve been through and how I’ve treated you?” I shook my head against his chest before continuing. “Lord knows I didn’t go easy on you. At this point, I have no karma points. In fact, if my math is correct, I’m probably due for seven years of bad luck. Scratch that, twenty-seven years of bad luck.”

I caught myself kneading his shirt so I stilled my hands and, instead, started to smooth the wet, wrinkled shirt with my fingers. I was still crying but not hysterically. How I still had tears to shed, I had no clue.

“Honestly, I don’t forgive you.”

So much for not being hysterical. I didn’t expect him to forgive me but hearing him say the words was worse than being stabbed.

“Whoa, wait a second,” he ran his hands across my back in soothing manner. “I don’t forgive you because I don’t feel there’s anything to forgive. Don’t get me wrong, you’re confusing as fuck sometimes. You’re like having puzzle pieces to two different puzzles that look exactly the same. There’s no right way to win. And you’ve definitely hurt my feelings, but that’s life. I’ve screwed up too—it’s what we do. There’s nothing to forgive.”

“What?”

I felt his shoulders shrug.

“You’re making me feel even worse. You’re just—not making this a big deal.”

“You’re making it big enough for the both of us.”

I growled into his chest.

“Donovan, I’m serious. You’re punishing yourself enough for the both of us. I don’t want to punish you. I like you. I want to date you. I want to move on from this and be happy with you.”

“You’re better than me.”

“Someone has to be,” I felt his smile.

Asshole.

“Hopefully we’ll take turns. I’m shit, you’re shit, I’m shit, and you’re shit.”

“Is this the part where I’m shit?”

“Definitely.”

“Jerk,” I hit his chest, lightly.

He grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm away from our bodies so I couldn’t move it.

“Hey, you’re the shit right now, not me, so you don’t get to hit me.”

I tried to pull my arm back but he wouldn’t let me, and when I tried to use my other arm, he grabbed it, too, and pinned them on either side of his hips.

“I need you to forgive me even if you don’t think it’s necessary.”

He kissed my head. “I forgive you.”

“Even for—” I hesitated, not wanting to finish.

“For?”

“You know. Nick and Nelly?” I mumbled.

He took a deep breath and my upper body raised and lowered with him.

“Sure, but only under one condition.”

I nodded against his chest.

“Can we do away with the doomsday clock? No more keeping score, no more strikes, and no fouls. T Ball rules—unlimited swings, no outs, everyone makes it to base, and everyone scores at home.”

I was confused by the reference.

“Everyone? Like as an open relationship? Sex with other people?” He’d just found out I’d had a three-way. Did he want it to be a normal thing? I sure as hell didn’t. “Shane, I don’t know if you got the wrong impression, but I’m not really into that stuff. The thing with Nick and Nelly was a one-and-done thing. I could never watch you being intimate with someone else, it’d kill me—”

“What are you talking about? I was talking about you and me, only us, not keeping track of all the shit we do wrong. You know…forgiveness. Nothing about sex with other people, no, nothing like that!”

I was so relieved to hear him say that because I only wanted him. I scooted up and kissed his neck again and again. He moved my arms to his chest then used his grip on my wrists to push me away from him. Still not wanting to look at him, I pushed back and hid my face against his neck.

“Look at me,” his voice left little room for argument.

“No, it’s still too hard. Plus, I’m a wreck. A total mess.”

He pushed me back until I was on my knees and he moved forward until he was sitting in front of me. I kept my head down, though, so I didn’t have to look at him. He let go of one of my hands and used it to pull my chin up.

“I want to see you. I like you like this.”

I looked to the side, I wasn’t ready for the intimacy of looking someone in the eyes after royally fucking everything up. He moved his face into my line of sight and, when I looked in the other direction, he moved his head, again, which made me laugh.

As a smile cracked for the first time in days, I whined, “Stop.”

I glanced at him. He was so close. Looking into his eyes was therapeutic. They held so much compassion—it was like aloe for my broken soul. It gave me back the strength I’d lost during my break down. If I’d looked at him earlier, would’ve I cried for so long? I wondered to myself.

His gaze was unwavering, intense, smoldering, loving, and warm. I wanted to look away, yet I didn’t. The corner of his lip curled up and his eyes twinkled. I was about to roll my eyes and look away, but his lips were on mine in an instant. One hand held the nape of my neck, to keep me close, while the other wrapped around my waist, also to keep me close.

We kissed and kissed. It wasn’t slow and it wasn’t frantic—it was needy. I needed him, bad, and I felt as though he needed me, too. I don’t know if he felt the same, but I couldn’t look away. The look in his eyes completed me. There was only one word to describe the look—adoration—and it only made me want him more.

It was more than just his gaze, it was his presence; his size. I’m not small, not even close, but I loved being with a man who made me feel—what’s the masculine word for delicate? Whatever it is, that’s how Shane made me feel, especially since I was barely recovering from my fall into the pit of terrible self-realization. He felt like a safe-house, somewhere I could be without fear, and it was almost too much for my overly emotional self.

When his hands grazed my body and his eyes brown eyes pierced my soul, I felt the emotion welling up. What was up with me? I hadn’t cried since I was hit in the man bits with a baseball when I was six-years-old (saves my minor breakdown after overhearing Shane’s tight ass comment). Yet, I hadn’t stopped crying since showing up at Shane’s doorstep, some hours prior, and I didn’t want to start again.

I lunged forward and selfishly ravaged his soft lips.

“I need you.” I needed the distraction, and well, him too.

He simply wrapped my legs around his waist and walked us to the other side of his bedroom, toward his bed. I felt him pressed against my ass and I adjusted myself in hopes he’d find his way and shivered when I felt his warm, thick shaft as it rubbed against me.

He moaned as he moved his hand down my lower back until his finger was sliding down my crevice as we carried me.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

I was grinding against him when he squatted down near the back wall and it felt like the only things holding me up were his hand and dick; both were pressed deliciously against my ass.

I was pulled from my thoughts when I felt myself tip backward. I cinched my legs tighter around his waist, my breath hitched when I felt his arm squeeze me tighter against him. He started tossing box lids around and digging through totes with one hand while squatting and holding me tight with the other. As I held on for dear life while he rummaged like a crazy man, I asked.

“What are you doing?”

He paused and looked at me with sparkling eyes.

“Trying to find the damn lube. I haven’t had a reason to unbox it and I didn’t expect you to show up or I would’ve had it ready,” he kissed me and resumed searching. “I know it’s in one of these.”

One of these was one of the ten totes that lined his wall. I groaned with annoyance.

“Don’t you keep it handy for when you need…a handy?”

Not once stopping his frantic search, he commented with a straight face.

“I don’t do that.”

My jaw dropped with disbelief.

“What! You don’t jerk it? Ever?”

He held up a bottle of lube and smiled like a kid finding lost Halloween candy in February.

“Got it!”

I felt his thighs flex as he effortlessly stood as if my one-hundred-and-sixty-five-pound frame wasn’t wrapped around him like dead weight. My dick twitched at his sheer strength and vitality. He’d just spent three minutes crouching-walking in a squatting position with me wrapped around him like it wasn’t a big deal.

I fucking love this man. I mean—I like this man. I like him a lot.

I didn’t have time to over analyze my thoughts because Shane had me pressed against the mattress with my legs spread; giving himself all the access he needed. His eyes were dark and hooded as he kneeled there and stared at me. I was over-the-top filled with lust and having him stand there like a statue pulled my insecurities to the surface—I wanted him on me and in me, not analyzing and judging me. I tried to pull him down, but he resisted as I whined.

I was about to protest again when he fell forward—his body on mine and his lips on my lips. My back arched as I rocked against him and the feeling of his hardness against mine was everything. Hot lips started down my neck and I felt as though I was about to lose it. I wanted him more than ever.

His lube covered fingers found their way to my most sensitive spot. I was more than ready and it wasn’t long before he had the real deal pressed against me. I pushed back to try to get him home, but every time I thought he was about to breach me, he’d pull back. After the fourth or fifth time of him denying himself entry, I growled.

“Do you get off on frustrating the shit out of me?”

The gate was open, security had been sent home. I wasn’t playing hard to get, I practically had a sign that said, “Intruders welcome, take what you want.” Hell, I was the bowl of Halloween candy that people leave on the porch, when they don’t want to deal with the selfish children, with a sign that says, “Please Take One.” Except, I had no limit, he could take as much as he wanted, yet he wasn’t.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

He pressed a little harder and stopped. My eyes snapped open only to find him looking at me as he waited for me to continue so I added.

“I need you.”

He pressed forward, and paused again.

“I need you so much…all of you!”

That time I felt the pressure of impending entry. So close.

“I fucking missed you so damn much.”

I groaned as he slowly breached me. My breathing was heavy as I tried to calm myself from the initial pain.

“Fuck, it’s you. It’s always you.”

Our eyes were locked together and there was a thin layer of sweat breaking out over each of us as he pressed forward.

“I wanted you the first time I saw you. You were so fucking hot! Even when I hated you, I wanted you. I hated you because I wanted you.”

My eyes rolled as he pressed all of the way into me, then stilled.

“I’m glad you made me dance with you. I remember the way you smelled and felt against me. I didn’t want to admit it, but I loved it.”

He pulled out and pushed back in, making me want to lose my mind, but his eyes kept mine begging for more.

“That night was everything I’d ever wanted. Not just great sex, but the connection was so good and so intense.”

He started really moving, encouraged my words of affection. No doubt he’d needed to hear that for a long time, since I’d never gave him what he really needed.

I moaned as I secretly hoped he’d hit spots in me, physically and emotionally, that would ruin me for anyone else.

“The way you chased me—even when I was being impossible. You never stopped...don’t stop.”

Don’t stop chasing me, don’t stop doing what you’re doing.

“You make me feel things—”

My body was tingling and the feeling deep in my belly was building. My cock was being worked between our bodies while his cock worked deep inside of me, which made everything (from my breathing to my vision) unstable. I dug my fingers into his back and tried to pull him closer because I wanted more friction against my throbbing erection.

He looked deep into my eyes while pounding me harder and deeper, yet with so much care.

“What do you feel?”

Words were becoming more and more difficult to say.

“Happy, so happy.”

“And?”

“Safe.”

“And?”

I couldn’t think because the feeling of explosion was so close. My toes curled and I held him tighter as I rolled my head back and waited for release. With sweat glistening on his skin, he asked, again.

“And?”

He squeezed my cheeks and forced me to look at him, although I was barely coherent enough to breathe on my own, let alone focus on him or answer any questions.

“What do you feel?”

Between thrusts, I said.

“Love. Love—for—you. I—love—you.”

“That’s it. Yes,” he moaned.

He continued to repeat the words as he lost control and squeezed me, tightly, as he chased his orgasm. Feeling him release inside of me tipped me over the edge, I came with incoherency in my voice, and he slowed his thrusts until he finally slipped out of me.

He let my legs down and gently laid himself on top of me as he kissed my chest, shoulders, and neck until he reached my lips. I was completely out of it. The physical and emotional exhaustion took over and I could only lay there, like a rag doll, with my eyes closed as he peppered me with kisses. I couldn’t even properly kiss back.

“You took my breath away the first time I saw you,” I heard him whisper. I don’t know how long I was out—it could’ve been minutes or hours—but he sounded a million miles away. I wasn’t even sure if he was talking to me.

“I’ve easily walked away from a lot of people, but I couldn’t walk away from you, not even when I wanted to.”

That’s nice. I tried to nod my head with approval. I was so glad he never truly walked away, even when I’d made it so easy.

“Before you, I didn’t care if anyone got fed up with me. If they did, they could leave, but with you—I beat myself up daily. The harder I try, the more I fail.”

I nodded at his words while drifting in and out of consciousness as his gentle caress lulled me back into a dream state.

“Don’t give up on me,” he quietly begged.

I shook my head slowly—I’d never let him go. If only for how good he felt as he rested between my limp thighs, with his fingers against my tired skin, and his kisses against my swollen lips.

“Donovan, I’m terrible at showing it, but I love you. I’ve been in love with you for a while—since the beginning.”

I moaned and my dick twitched at his words. No one’s ever, genuinely, said those words to me. I opened my eyes when I heard him laugh. He’d probably felt my reaction.

He was smiling at me. Actually, he was laughing at me so I groaned and covered my face with my arms, which he immediately uncovered. I knew I must’ve looked like Courtney Love, after a week-long binge, with my metaphorical makeup smeared from crying and sex. Oh god, my hair…

“I look terrible, don’t I?”

He leaned down and kissed me. “You have no clue, do you?”

I shook my head. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

 

“You always look good, every day. But when you’re not put together—” his eyes rolled back in his head as he moaned. The expression on his face was how I think I look after taking a bite of a perfect chocolate chip cookie when it’s fresh out of the oven. Pure satisfaction. “Remember when I showed up unannounced, at your house? When you thought I was UPS?”

“Don’t remind me,” I groaned at the memory.

“The second I saw you—” his brown eyes were full of affection. “I think that’s when I fell in love with you. You’re so sexy when you’re raw and unscripted. The most perfect kind of perfect. It speaks to my innermost instinct.” I felt him hardening against my thigh.

I rolled my eyes, but inwardly, I was smiling. It feels good to be wanted at your lowest. Well, what I thought was my lowest, Shane thought was perfect. It didn’t take much more than a little fresh lube for Shane to slide into me again. This time, the love making was slow and he came inside of me a few minutes after I came between us.

We enjoyed nothing more than each other until we fell asleep. He woke in the middle of the night, pressed himself against my back side, and I gladly welcomed him. He took me fast and hard as I jerked myself to release before passing out, again.

I woke early the next morning, but I didn’t have the heart to wake him, he looked so peaceful and beautiful. His auburn hair a disaster. I loved it. I wondered if that was how he saw me—a beautiful, perfect mess. As I stretched, I felt the remnants of last night crackling on my skin.

Eww. I lifted the blanket and rubbed a patch of crusted semen from my belly. As I got off of the bed, I brushed the loose particles off of my body and the bed sheets.

“Sex doesn’t always equate to sexy,” I mumbled to myself.

My effort was wasted as the bed was covered in its own fair share of white, crusted nasties. If the dried spunk wasn’t enough of a reminder of what’d happened last night, the smell of man-sex was ripe in the room. After getting dressed, I decided to crack the window open to help alleviate the odor. Some people might argue that the smell of stagnant sex is wonderfully delicious. I call it foul…it’s nasty.

I leaned over the bed and ran my fingers through his thick hair.

“Goodbye, love,” I whispered, without stirring him from his slumber.

I wanted to spend the day with him. We needed to have a real conversation, something more than me bawling my eyes out followed by sex confessional. It would have to wait. I had to drive home to shower and get ready for work.

*** *** *** ***

I couldn’t stop smiling as I drove home. Hell, I couldn’t stop while showering, getting ready for work, driving to work, or walking into the hospital. I couldn’t stop smiling until after I’d walked to the nurses’ station and saw Greg and Tammy (Cal’s parents) crying next to Dr. Cahill.

Cal had been sick and getting sicker. No matter what we did, his levels weren’t getting better and his side effects were getting worse. We’d talked about transferring him to California if things didn’t improve, but it was too late. Seeing them crying caused my stomach to drop through the floor. Then came the anger.

Why hadn’t anyone called me?

As I quickly walked toward them, I pleaded within, Please! Not Cal!

I tried to breathe to keep myself calm, but I was shaking and felt the emotional build up. After the last forty-eight hours, I doubted my body knew how to hold back. I’d become accustomed to crying whenever the need arose, much to my own resistance.

As I approached, their cries became louder and I felt my own tears start to roll down my cheeks. If Cal died, I didn’t know how I’d cope—I wasn’t sure I could. You’re never prepared for this stuff.

They all looked at me as I stood next to them. I didn’t have the power to speak. I needed them to confirm what I knew—after years of fighting, Cal had finally lost the battle. I wiped the tears from my face as I waited for someone to say something. Instead, Tammy threw herself around me and sobbed, which caused me to follow suit.

I cried softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Calvin. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

While rubbing my back, she said. “It’s okay. We’re not leaving.”

“But Cal—”

“Cal’s probably awake by now if you want to see him.”

I blinked. Wait—what? I pulled back and looked at her.

“He’s—awake?”

“Yes, and feeling better!” She smiled.

She actually looked happy, despite her tear-stained face.

“I’m confused. Why are you guys crying if he’s okay? If he’s—better?”

Greg and Tammy looked at each other, then at the Doctor, and the three of them looked at me as Dr. Cahill handed me the tablet with all of Calvin’s information. It took me a minute to register what I was reading, then I swiped back to make sure I was looking at the correct patient’s chart. Then I looked at the lab results, again, to confirm I wasn’t crazy before I looked at the Doctor with confusion.

“How?”

“I have no idea. A miracle? Maybe his body just needed more time than normal, which is normal considering how long he’s been fighting. We’re going to run the labs again in two days, to be thorough, but I’m hopeful. Everything's looking good, including Calvin.”

I tossed the tablet back to Dr. Cahill and practically ran to Calvin’s room. As I slid into the doorway, I noticed he was sitting up on his bed. He still looked terrible, but a better terrible—he was alive and that was pretty damn awesome!

After giving me a once over, he asked.

“Who died?”

I physically jumped into a seated position on his bed.

“Not you! That’s who. I came in to work and found your parents bawling their eyes out and I guess I might’ve jumped to conclusions.”

“Well, you can’t get rid of me that easy,” he teased.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” I raised my hand for a fist bump, which he happily returned.

I put my arm around him and pulled him toward me. It wasn’t until I had him nestled against my chest that I was confident everything was okay. I had other patients who needed me, but first, I needed a few minutes to emotionally recuperate from Cal’s near-death experience.

I hadn’t dealt with too much loss. I’d been lucky enough that most of my patients went on to live happy, and mostly healthy lives. That didn’t mean I hadn’t suffered the loss of a few patients, but I couldn’t imagine it’d ever become something you’d grow accustomed to.

Cal might’ve been alive and breathing against me, but I was still mourning the ninety seconds I’d thought he was gone. I didn’t ask how he was feeling because that was one of the many questions they (cancer patients) all got asked one hundred times a minute from every person they encountered. I made it my mission to bring as much normality to their lives as possible by asking about their lives, friends, food, TV—things that made them feel normal.

After beating around the bush, I decided to ask how things were going with Daisy (the girl he’d been crushing on). They’d hung out a few times, but things didn’t move too fast since they were tweens who spent most of their lives fighting cancer. He’d been fussing over her for a while, but I realized I hadn’t heard a peep in several weeks and, of course, I’d been stuck in my own drama to notice something was up.

“It didn’t work out. At first, I thought she, you know, ticked all of my boxes!” He smiled and raised his brow, which earned a soft thump to the forehead for cocky behavior.

He rubbed his forehead and moaned. “Ow! I thought you were going to be nice to me since I didn’t die and all.”

“I am nice, that’s why it was a soft thump.” I winked. “Anyway, continue with your story, Don Juan.”

He looked across the room with confusion and I saw him mouth Don Juan? The name clearly went over his head.

“Well, I don’t know about that Don Juan, but Daisy was—” Cal’s face contorted as he was clearly anxious about his next words. With a stressed smile, he asked, “Will you promise not to say anything?”

Cal visibly relaxed after I gave him an encouraging nod. That was all he’d needed to leave his hesitancy at the door and spill months’ worth of frustration, the only way a tween knows how—by talking a-mile-a-minute.

“Oh-my-god, Doo Doo! (I rolled my eyes at the never-ending nick name) From a distance, she was cute and on paper she seemed awesome. Every boys dream. But—well, it’s like—I was watching MTV one day and watched a ‘Catfish’ marathon, have you ever seen it? It’s nuts. I realized I got catfished. No joke, Doo. Daisy is nuts! No, wait, Daisy is crazy! Crazy Daisy, that's what I was calling her, in my head of course. I’d never be that disrespectful in person, but yeah, in my head I was calling her Crazy Daisy. She always said, ‘Omg, Cally’, which drove me nuts because my name is Calvin, and I told her that, but she kept calling me Cally, like I was a girl. ‘Cally, what if one of us dies? If you die, I’ll die! I just can’t live without you, you’re my bae!’ And I was like, ‘Well, I have cancer, you know? So, I might die. Also, you have cancer, so you might die.’ She didn’t think that was very funny, like, at all!”

He shook his head in disbelief as he recalled the conversation.

“The worst part though? All the grownups were so excited about young love that I was trapped. Turns out you can’t dump a cancer kid! Even if you’re a cancer kid! It’s still frowned upon! I’m not being dramatic here, but I swear on Vincristine [a popular chemo drug] that I was dying…to get away from her! Do you think it’s a coincidence that, after I dumped her and finally got her to leave me alone, I miraculously felt better?”

The look on his face was challenging me to prove otherwise and I couldn’t help but crack up. Kids are hilarious. Catfished? Hardly, but listening to his ramblings and his valley girl impressions of Daisy was still hilarious.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing because I blame you. Your check list is stupid.”

“It’s not an exact science, it’s more of a general guidebook—troubleshooting, if you will.”

“Isn’t troubleshooting supposed to help you get out of trouble, not slowly kill you?”

His seriousness caused me to bark with laughter. There was a reason Cal was one of my favorites.

“You’re still so young. You have to build the book up and, one day, it’ll come in handy, I promise. You had to have learned at least one thing you didn’t realize was important—something you’re going to add to the list.”

“Yeah, a non-negotiable box labeled not a crazy bitch!”

He froze at his curse, our heads snapped toward each other as we stared at the other with wide eyes, we both started to laugh (at the same time), I lifted my hand for a high five, and our hands collided as we laughed.

“Amen, brother. That’s an important one.”

I pulled him in tighter. I was thankful he felt better. I’d missed Cal, it felt good to have him back. We talked for a while longer before I had to peel myself away to see other patients.

*** *** *** ***

It’d been several hours before I was able to find my way back to his room.

“I forgot to ask earlier, but what about you? What did you learn from Booty Shane?” Cal asked.

I set a snack tray by the bed and looked at him with confusion, then chuckled at Shane’s name and the image of Shane’s reaction if he’d ever got called that to his face. I hadn’t shared much with Cal about what’d happened with Shane. It was pretty hypocritical of me since I shared so much of my life, except when it wasn’t shiny and fun, but he knew we broke up and that it was, of course, all Shane’s fault since that’s how I’d felt until a few days ago.

I let out a heavy breath and relaxed in the chair next to his bed.

“Remember when you said I was the best person in the whole world? A living god among men—a demigod—the original cast of which all men strive to be, but always fall short?”

He shook his head with confusion. “What? I never said—”

“Shut up kid, you said it. I remember and now you need to remember.”

Cal shook his head and rolled his eyes with all of the drama a tween could manage, which was a lot.

“Oh sure, I guess I remember saying something, once, when I was drugged to the brim with the newest experimental cancer cocktail.”

Tweens: The Kings and Queens of dramatic theatre.

“Jerk,” I laughed. “Well, it turns out—,” I paused and glanced around, “do you promise not to tell anyone?”

He nodded.

“Okay, good. It turns out I’m…flawed. I know, I know. It came as a shock to me, too and I might’ve been a little hard on…Booty Shane. I’m not excusing the crappy things he did, but I also had to acknowledge my shortcomings, which was really, really difficult.”

“So, are you guys back together?”

I pursed my lips.

“I don’t know. We talked last night (he didn’t need to know that by talk, I meant crying and sex), but I don’t know if anything was officially sorted. Lots of things were said, but it was—” During an emotional time and you can’t always trust the things that are said. But I couldn’t explain that to him. “We need to have another conversation.”

“Well, I hope you guys figure it out. He’s cool. I like him.”

 

“You don’t even know him,” I laughed.

“Yeah, I do. He was here the other day when you were off. We hung out and he brought me a book. He said he didn’t think he needed it anymore. That he was a lost cause and it was too complex for him, but I was young and had a lot of time to practice to get it right. He’s funny though, all this fuss and it was just a stupid coloring book. I don’t know why he was so hard on himself, look,” he grabbed the book off of the shelf next to him and started to flip through it. “Half of the book is colored and he’s really good. Like, really, really good.”

I grabbed the book from him and flipped through it. It was the kids coloring book I’d given him after his terrible park job, nothing fancy or difficult, but damn if it wasn’t beautifully colored and shaded. I shouldn’t have been surprised because he loved to draw and wanted to be an architect.

I also couldn’t help the cinching in my chest as I imagined a sulking Shane pouting about the Pediatric Oncology ward while handing out mementos of our lost love to kids he barely knew. Actually, it was kind of funny, but the part that hurt most was how I’d made him feel.

I clutched the book against my chest, “Can I keep this?” I asked.

“Sure, I can’t measure up to him anyway. Not just coloring, either, the guys a beast. Doo Doo, he was actually bench-pressing kids. Bench pressing! He pressed little Greg like—twenty times!”

I laughed, “What the hell goes on here when I’m gone?”

The vision of Shane interacting and loving on my kids was heaven and I was sad to have missed it, although, I doubt I would’ve appreciated it at the time.

“This place goes to hell, except when Shane was here…that was fun. You should’ve heard the nurses though, they were drooling over him. Pam was like ‘mmm he can press me anytime’...it was disgusting.”

I made a sour face while thinking about Shane pressing into anyone, especially a woman. My body convulsed at the thought. Eww.

Cal laughed as he watched me being grossed out.

“Exactly! But it was still fun. He was chasing after some of the other kids and my water glass was shaking, like on Jurassic Park when the T-rex is coming, except it was just Shane. It was funny.”

Just as the words left his mouth, the water in the plastic cup (sitting next to his food) rippled. We looked at it, then each other, and Cal pointed at the water with shock, just before there was a knock on the door. Our eyes widened and our heads snapped to the entrance.

Inside, I was laughing because I knew it was Dan, the big Samoan guy who cleaned up the trash. He was big, but where Shane was solid muscle and brute strength, Dan was a family-sized bag of potato chips, washed down with a two liter of Cola every day. I looked at Cal just as the door opened, not wanting to miss the look of disappointment when it wasn’t Shane’s face that peaked through. Cal’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped.

“Oh, shit,” I mumbled as I looked at the door.

It wasn’t potato chip Dan, it was Booty Shane…my Booty Shane. I looked at Cal and the second we made eye contact we both started to laugh uncontrollably. What were the odds that Shane would show up, let alone right after Cal had talked about him making the water ripple like a prehistoric dinosaur?

Shane stood there while Cal and I spent too many seconds unable to control ourselves.

“I’m sorry. Timing. Too funny.” I finally pulled myself together, grabbed my work tablet and the coloring book, and said goodbye to Cal before ushering Shane out of the door.

We were standing near the nurses’ station when we finally stopped walking.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as I wiped tears of hysteria from my face, which was loads better than the tears of emotional brokenness I had been shedding.

“Working and seeing if you were going to have lunch soon.”

It wasn’t awkward between us, except it kind of was.

I’d dumped him, he’d asked me back (multiple times), I’d denied him (multiple times), and I’d embarrassed him then myself. If that wasn’t enough, I showed up at his house, cried for hours, followed by the best night of sex and professions of love, but no solid resolution. Were we together? Friends? One last night before parting ways? I definitely assumed (hoped) it meant we were together, but there was no room for assumptions.

“Sure, I can do lunch. Just let me finish up really quick. Ten minutes?”

“Sure, I’ll wait here.”

I hustled to the nurses’ station to make sure it was okay to take my lunch break. The girls didn’t seem to have a problem with it so I told them I’d finish up real fast and leave—I had to check in with another patient before wrapping things up.

As I made my way back to the nurses’ station, I saw Shane holding Iris, which was strange because she was the shyest kiddo I’d ever met in my life. She barely spoke a word to anyone, yet, there she was, nestled into Shane’s chest with her face tucked against his neck.

I could’ve died at that moment if it weren’t for the two female nurses standing in front of him and fawning, excessively, over his every word. Did the little birdies not know he was an elephant? Such a waste of their time. I might’ve been jealous if they had dicks, but alas, they had nothing on me. Still, I needed them to know—I needed everyone to know. While Shane affectionately rubbed Iris’ back—she was stupidly adorable—I asked.

“Are you ready for lunch?”

“Mm, hm.”

He tried to set her down, but she clung to him like a monkey. We all laughed while he tried to gently dispose of the small child before giving the nurses a pleading look, which of course, they couldn’t resist. Pam reached out and pried the poor little girl from Shane’s chest.

“I feel you kid. It’s a hard loss.” I winked at the nurses and was amused at the look on their faces as they processed my words.

“Well, that’s—”

“Incredibly disappointing,” Pam finished the other nurse’s sentence before sulking away.

Shane was smiling when I looked at him.

“Lunch?”

I nodded and followed him out. I knew we had much to talk about, yet I had no idea what would come of it.