“Dry spell.”
I spit out the coffee onto the table and all but choked to death. Damn Lisa, damn family, damn cousin. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“Right.” Wes licked his lips but dropped it. He leaned over and kissed Kiersten on the top of her head, then pulled her silky scarf tighter around her body.
That simple motion — almost made me lose it.
The tightening of a scarf — made me want to end my own life. If people only knew — if only I could trust people enough to tell, to explain, how wrecked I was on the inside.
But no. I was playing a part. I was Gabe. I would never be him again, I would never be my past again.
Kiersten laughed and kissed Wes’s nose.
It was too much. Everything was suddenly too much, and in that moment I knew. It was too much four years ago — my time was up. The storm cloud was coming. “Look guys, I gotta run.”
“Alright.” Kiersten barely took her eyes off Wes. “See you for Taco Tuesday?”
“Yup.” I didn’t turn around. I didn’t wave. I grabbed my shit, and I ran out that door like the fires of hell were licking at my heels.
Because for the first time in four years — the time bomb was about to go off and I wasn’t so sure how I was going to handle everything.
My phone went off with a text.
Puget Sound N: She needs you. Can you call an
d sing? Or maybe send her a picture text?
Oh look, the bomb… it was ticking.
Me: Yeah. I’ll call in a few.
Chapter Two
People will go through their entire lives justifying every damn decision…they’ll fight for all the wrong things, until finally the right thing stares at them square in the face. That’s when the choices start to matter. Because in the end, you’re a creature of habit. So you may want to choose right, but choose wrong in the end — because you’re so damn used to it. It’s tragic, then again, life’s tragic, don’t you think? —Wes M.
Gabe
“The dry spell’s really getting to you, isn’t it?” Lisa felt my forehead.
I smacked her hand away and rolled my eyes.
“You can’t call it a dry spell when it’s by choice,” I grumbled. “And by the way, thanks for telling Wes.” I’d run out of the Starbucks and headed directly to Lisa’s dorm room in hopes of talking to her about everything. Instead, she’d answered the door, her sweet smile conveying without words that she would always be there for me and she’d always understand.
Except this time — I had refused to burden her.
I looked at her now, several days after making that decision, and realized that had been our entire relationship. I give you my pain, you give me yours. And I was sick of it. I hated that she was part of it, and I hated that for the first time in four years I’d finally decided to grow a pair of balls and leave her the hell out of it — she didn’t deserve the darkness.
I, however, did.
“And cranky.” She plopped down onto the couch and messed up my hair with her hands. “You need to get out more.”
“Question.” I put the TV on mute and pushed her away. “Weren’t you telling me a few weeks ago that I was going either going to die alone or from too many STDs?”
Lisa’s blue eyes twinkled in amusement as she snatched the remote and turned the volume back up “Don’t be dramatic. I said you were going to die alone with STD’s.” She flipped her dark wavy hair over her shoulder and laughed.
“Right. Big difference, awesome encouragement. Cousin of the year.” I groaned and leaned back against the couch. I was just getting comfortable when a pillow hit me in the face.
Swearing a blue streak, I jumped to my feet.