Текст книги "Freeing"

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

After lifting weights for the past hour with Mark, I desperately need a cold shower, but instead, he suggested a run, and I somehow agreed. So now we are making our way through the streets of a neighborhood that is not too far from the gym, and I’m dying ‘cause running with a semi is not all that fun. God, I have to get these thoughts out of my head, and fast.

“So, you plan on going back to Ohio after you graduate?” I ask, trying to refocus my thoughts on something else besides his cut body that’s covered in sweat.

“I don’t think so. I really love it here. Although I miss my family like crazy.”

“You guys close?”

“Yeah.”

Must be nice. It’s been years since I felt close with my parents. Ever since Jace died, they just avoid me. Back when I was in high school, it was as if I was no longer their son, but some dude that just occupied a room in their home. We barely even speak now.

“What about you? You close with your family?” he asks as we turn onto another street that happens to have an incline so steep, I swear to God, if I didn’t have decent traction on my shoes, I would slide down it.

Huffing out a short breath, I tell him way too honestly, “No. We hardly ever talk.”

“Why’s that?”

I take a second to gather my thoughts because I immediately want to tell him the truth. I’m not sure why since the only person I have spoken to about my sister is Candace. She had already told me how demeaning her parents are and how hard it was for her growing up in a house with them, so when I finally opened up to her, I knew she would be able to relate to me. I decide to go with my gut and reveal, “I have a sister, but . . . she died five years ago. And, in a way, my parents did too. I’m pretty much invisible.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, man.”

Hearing the regretful tone in his voice makes me feel bad for making him uncomfortable, so I brush it off quickly. “Don’t be. It’s life.”

“So I take it you’ll most likely stay here after you graduate?”

Finally making it to the top of the hill, we turn the corner, and I sigh when I see we have hit a flat street. Mark laughs, and I turn to look at him and say, “That bitch of a hill nearly kicked my ass.”

I laugh with him for a moment before answering his question. “I doubt I’ll ever go back home. So, yeah, I plan on staying.”

A smile crosses his face, and we both power run back to the gym. Once we hit the parking lot, I am thoroughly drained. I open the back door to my car and grab a couple bottles of water from my gym bag. Tossing one to Mark, I down mine quickly.

“Thanks for the workout,” he says as he moves to lean against my car next to me.

“Yeah. Anytime.”

“So, hey, I’m gonna be up on campus later this week. I have to shift one of my studios around, and the online enrollment isn’t letting me make the change. You wanna meet up for coffee or something afterwards?”

“Sounds good. Just give me a call,” I say as Mark steps in front of me and leans in, giving me a slow kiss that lingers long on my lips.

I wrap my arm around his waist, fisting his damp shirt, and pull him closer to me. I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing, but I want it. I’ve never been this way before with anyone else, drawn to them like I am with Mark. Getting to know each other—I like it—and I like him, but at the same time, I’m wondering what this all means.

Mark slides his tongue across my lower lip before dipping it into my mouth. Licking and exploring, I have to break the kiss before he can tell just how turned on he’s making me. Something about Mark tells me he isn’t into just screwing around, so I tell him, “You can’t keep doing this to me in parking lots.”

Chuckling, he smiles and responds with, “I agree. I’ll call you later?”

“Yeah.”

“You want a glass of wine?” I ask from the kitchen.

“Please.”

I pop the cork and pour Candace a glass of Merlot before getting myself a beer and joining her on my couch. She’s laughing her ass off, watching an episode of ‘Ridiculousness’ on MTV. We often get together in the evenings and watch these shows. I love that she has the same humor as I do.

“Thanks,” she says as I hand her the glass of wine.

I sit down in the corner of the couch as she leans back into me. The bond that we share has only grown tighter through the years. She’s always been so honest with me; she’s an open book. I try to be just as open as she is with me, but there are some things that are just too difficult to admit—even to myself—but she’s my family. She’s the one person I know I can always depend on to be there for me because she always has been.

“So what’s Kimber up to tonight?” I ask.

As she scoots around to get comfortable, she tells me, “She’s at home with some of her girlfriends just hanging out.”

“You’re so anti-social,” I tease with a soft laugh.

“No, I’m not,” she responds with mock defensiveness and pinches my side when she continues, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“You’re either with me or Kimber. That’s it.”

Shifting to her side, she sets her glass down on the coffee table and inches her way down on me, laying her head on my lap.

“Her friends are annoying. And you know I don’t really like being around a whole bunch of people anyway.”

“I know. I’m just giving you a hard time, sweetie,” I say quietly, knowing that this is how she’s always been.

“Plus, I spent the other evening with Kaleb.”

I laugh at her, and joke, “Your date that you didn’t even like? That hardly counts.”

“It counts,” she tries to defend, but it’s lost on me.

Finishing my beer, I set the bottle next to her glass and slide down so we are face to face. “So, what was it about this one that you didn’t like?”

“We just didn’t have anything in common.”

“You say that about all of them.”

Letting out a sigh and closing her eyes, she says, “I know. I just . . . I have a hard time looking at guys that way.”

“You wanna know what I think?” I ask, and she opens her eyes to look at me again. “I think you don’t know how to accept or give affection because you’ve never had it. Your parents never gave it to you, therefore you never learned how to give it.”

“But I accept it from you,” she whispers.

“You do, but I don’t think you view me as someone who would ever hurt you.”

Candace looks down for a minute before returning to my eyes. “Is that a bad thing?”

Kissing her forehead, I wrap my arms around her and whisper, “No, but it does prevent you from having other real relationships.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well, aren’t you doing the same thing?”

She’s right. Except now I find myself wanting to change that. I surprised myself when I told Mark about my sister this morning when I don’t talk to anyone about that stuff. There is something different about him that makes me want to be different with him. But I don’t want to tell Candace. I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but I don’t think I’m ready to reveal to her that I might want something more with him. So I simply say, “Yeah, sweetie, I am.”

She looks up at me as I give her a quick peck and then rolls over on her other side so that she can continue watching her show. I lie behind her, combing her long, thick brown hair with my fingers as thoughts of Mark start to flood my mind.

“Jase, are you coming out with me tonight?”

Looking up at Kimber, who is standing in Candace’s doorway, I say, “I don’t think so.”

“Are you serious? Why the hell not?” she barks as she sits down next to me while I lie on Candace’s bed.

Propping my hands behind my head, I tell her, “I’m supposed to be meeting a friend later.”

“What friend?” Candace asks as she walks out of her bathroom. She makes her way over to her dance bag and takes out her ballet shoes to start powdering them.

“So, I’ve been watching you do this routine with those damn shoes for years and have never had a clue why you douse those things in powder.”

She looks up at me and says, “Because your feet sweat when you dance and the powder absorbs it. It also keeps the shoes from smelling like crap.”

“Ahhh.”

“Don’t change the subject on me. Who are you seeing tonight?”

“Mark.”

“You’re going out with him again?” Candace asks in surprise and then Kimber pipes up and adds, “That guy from the other night?”

Looking between the both of them, I answer, “Yes, and yes.”

“You’re such a slut!”

I just laugh at Kimber.

“I didn’t know you were seeing him,” Candace says as she stands up and starts walking into her closet.

“I’m not seeing him. We’re just hanging out, that’s all.” But I know that’s really not all. It’s not like we’re dating or anything—we are in fact just hanging out—but a part of me really does want more.

Kimber jabs me in my ribs. “Fine, ditch me for ass.”

Laughing at her, I tease, “Has anyone ever told you how delicate your mouth is?”

Hopping off the bed, she kisses the air while flipping me off. When she walks out of the room, I continue to laugh at her crudeness as I hear her call from down the hall, “Text me later, bitch.”

Walking out of the closet, Candace strips out of her sweaty dance clothes and throws on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She turns to me and lies down beside me.

I wrap my arms around her when she softly questions, “Do you like him?”

“We’re just grabbing coffee, that’s all.”

A few moments later, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Candace giggles and she reaches under me to retrieve it. When she hands it to me, I swipe the screen to see the missed text from Mark.

“I gotta run. He’s leaving campus now.”

“Okay. You wanna spend the night here tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you when I’m on my way,” I say as I get off the bed. I lean back down and kiss her cheek before I leave.

Walking into Café Allegro, I see Mark standing at the counter chatting with one of the staff. I step up next to him and he says, “Oh, hey. Jase, this is Nathaniel.”

I nod my head, and Nathaniel reaches over the counter to shake my hand. He’s an older guy with a bit of a gnarly look about him. “Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Any friend of Mark’s is a friend of mine.”

Mark laughs and tells me, “He owns this place.”

“Thirty-seven years,” he proudly says.

We visit for a couple of minutes, and then Nathaniel makes our drinks before we find an empty table to sit down at.

“Did you get your schedule fixed?” I ask him.

“Yeah, I really wanted to get into Gibson’s studio, but when I first went to register, it was full. But I hopped online the other day and saw that someone had dropped and there was a seat open.”

“Gibson’s Tuesday/Thursday studio?” I ask.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he sets the mug down and says, “Yeah.”

“That’s my studio.”

“Really? That’s cool. Yeah, originally I was signed up for Professor Walter’s.”

“Oh, man, he’s so traditional. I had him sophomore year, and he criticized everything I did. He was a dick about it too.”

“Well, since we have our capstone this year, I really wanted Gibson ‘cause our design styles are similar.”

We wind up hanging out for over an hour, drinking coffee and talking about school. Afterwards, he invites me to come back to his house, so we head out and I follow him in my car as we drive to his place.

Mark rents a nice two-story house that’s not too far from campus. When we walk in, there is a guy standing in the kitchen.

“Hey, Kyle. You heading out?” Mark asks.

“Yeah, some guys I know are throwing a party,” he says and looks at me. “I’m Kyle, Mark’s roommate.”

Before I can say anything, Mark says, “Oh, sorry, this is Jase.”

“Good to meet you. I gotta run though.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too,” I respond as he takes his keys and heads out the door.

Turning to me, Mark nods his head for me to follow him. We walk through his house and when we turn into his room, I don’t even wait to grab his arm and pull him into me, crashing my mouth against his.

Mark slides his hand behind my neck and holds me close as he starts to step us back toward his bed. He breaks the kiss when he lies down, and I crawl on top of him. Lowering my head, I take my time when I kiss him again. He rakes his fingers through the hair on the back of my head. Pushing my tongue past his lips, I slide it against his, tasting him, before pulling back and gently biting his bottom lip.

His touch is hot when he runs his hand up under my shirt, and my abs tighten at the excitement of being with him in this way. I lower my mouth to his neck and drag my lips up, kissing him behind his ear. When his hand grazes over my chest, I sit back on my knees and reach over my head, tugging my shirt off. Mark sits up, removing his shirt as well.

He looks so goddamn hot, staring up at me. His chest is defined, and his abs are sculpted with deep cuts. I begin to swell up and grow hard as I watch him beneath me. Wrapping his arms around me, he brings me back down, and I try to relieve a little of my ache as I grind my hips into him. I can feel that he is just as hard as I am, which does nothing but turn me on even more. Our breathing is labored, and I want him so bad right now. Sliding my hand down his stomach, feeling each groove of his muscles, I don’t stop when I hit his pants. Resting my forehead against his, I slip my hand under his waistband and grip him tightly in my hand.

Mark lets out a low growl at my touch, and I push myself into him again, needing more relief. Before I can move my hand, he grips my wrist and says, “Wait.”

I pull my head back and take my hand off of him. “What’s wrong,” I pant.

He scoots back, and I roll onto my side when he says, “Look, I really like you, but I’ve heard a little about your reputation from a couple guys at school. You need to know that I’m not like that. I don’t do the whole casual thing. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

I look into his eyes, not quite sure of what to say. I have only ever been casual with guys. Hell, even before I was with guys, I was only a fleeting moment with girls as well. I’ve never really looked beyond that. I go ahead and admit, “I like you . . . a lot,” but I’m not sure I’m on the same page as him. It’s unexplored territory for me, and something about being in an actual relationship with another man freaks me out a bit.

My mind starts to spin, and now I’m questioning if this is really me. Am I ready to do this? Am I ready to be defined in this way? I haven’t even come out to my parents. Anxiety and fear begin to rush through me, and I suddenly need space.

“Maybe we should take a breather tonight before we take things too fast,” I tell him.

Nodding his head, he says, “Yeah, I agree.”

I reach around his neck and draw him in for a slow kiss. I can’t deny how good he feels and how good I feel when I’m with him. I want him, but I’m scared shitless at the same time.

When Mark breaks the kiss, he asks, “Can I see you Saturday?”

“Yeah.” Apart from being so unsure about our relationship, one thing I am sure of is that I have to see him again.

Stripping down to my boxers, I slide into bed with Candace. Lying behind her, I tuck her tightly against me. I’m conflicted in my thoughts about Mark, but I don’t reveal these worries to her. I simply absorb the comfort she gives me just by being with her.

“So what did you guys do?” she whispers into the darkness.

“We grabbed coffee. That’s all.” I want to tell her. I want her to know my fears, but for some reason, I can’t get enough courage to go there yet.

“You gonna see him again?”

“Probably not,” I lie, and I have no idea why. Why am I doing this? It’s Candace. She would never judge me; I know this. Why am I acting like such a pussy about this?

Snapping me out of my self-destructive thoughts, she says, “We’re hopeless, huh?”

I hear her giggle under her breath when I kiss the top of her head and agree. “Totally hopeless.”

Lacing her fingers with mine over the top of my hand, she sighs as she softens into me. I lie there in her bed, listening to her breathing slowly leveling out as she drifts off to sleep. Emotions begin to well up inside of me as I try and sort through my thoughts.

I like Mark, there is no doubt about that, but the anxiety I’ve had since we started spending more time together is stirring up this shame I thought I had let go of. I’ve been fine just playing the field and having fun, not bothering to question myself or what this all really means. This is almost too much for me to deal with. I thought that maybe I was ready for this; I thought I knew who I was, but it turns out, I’m still confused as shit.

Tossing my gym bag into the back of my SUV, I text Mark when I hop in and shut the door.

On my way.

After the other night, Mark had called and wanted to hit the gym with me. I probably shouldn’t have agreed; I know he wants something more than what I think I’m able to give him—what I know I’m not able to give him. But I can’t help the feelings that overwhelm me every time I talk to him, or hell, even think about him. So when he called and suggested getting together, I couldn’t say no.

Hey, I’m running late. Meet me at my house and we can ride together. Kyle is home.

Okay. See you in a bit.

When I arrive at Mark’s house, Kyle answers the door and lets me in.

“Hey, man. Mark just called and said he was on his way.”

“Oh, okay,” I say as I follow him into the living room. “What are you up to today?”

“Nothing really. Just hanging out, watching TV,” he says as he picks up his beer from the coffee table and sits back on the couch.

I sit down next to him as he starts flipping through the channels and asks, “What are you guys going to go do?”

“Gonna hit the gym for a couple hours.”

Taking a swig of his beer, he stays focused on the TV when he asks, “So you guys dating?”

“No,” I answer way too quickly. God, why can’t I face this? Why can’t I just be comfortable enough to say yes?

Tipping his head to look at me, he smirks and repeats, “No?”

I know that look. I give that look. A lot. When his eyes shift to my mouth, I suddenly feel like I’m back in my all-too-familiar territory, so I maintain, “No,” with a slight shake of my head.

Meeting my eyes again, I know what he’s thinking. Knowing Mark is on his way home, and as much as I like him, these feelings I’m starting to have for him bring up all the shit I don’t like to think about. Being numb and emotionless with guys is just easier, so I take this bait as an easy out from my conflicting situation with Mark. When Kyle leans in, I take the rope he is offering and hang myself.

I kiss him.

Grabbing his face with my hands, I tangle my lips with his, knowing that once Mark walks through that door it will all be over, and I can bury this self-hatred that only he has been able to dig up.

There is nothing behind this kiss aside from pure destruction. I feel sick to my stomach, and when Kyle thrusts his tongue in my mouth, I’m consumed with guilt. But I don’t stop. Instead, I push him down and hover over him. He’s running his hand up my shirt, and I don’t stop kissing him when I hear the door open. My stomach sinks when Mark’s voice pulls Kyle away from me.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Shit, man,” Kyle says as he jumps off the couch.

I know what I’ve done, and really, there is nothing I can say. So I don’t speak. I get off the couch and walk to the kitchen to get my car keys.

“You’re not gonna say anything?” Mark questions as I walk past him. He’s visibly pissed, just as I expected. He isn’t like me; I know that.

Grabbing my keys, I walk to the door as he persists, “Jase! What the hell, man?”

I can’t fuckin’ look at him. I feel like complete ass for what I just did, but I’m a coward. He doesn’t deserve it; he’s better off without me anyway, so I leave. I walk out the door and straight to my car without ever looking back at him. I hate myself for this. All that anguish I’ve been hiding so well finally surfaces, and I fuckin’ lose it. The tears that are blurring my eyes spill over, and I slam my fists into the steering wheel as I speed back to my apartment. I can’t even begin to sort my thoughts out. Hopeless—Candace said it the other night, and I couldn’t agree more right now. Why can’t this be easy? Why do I have to be this way? I can’t stand this shit.

I hate that I just hurt Mark. The first guy—the only guy—that I’ve ever had real feelings for and I destroyed it before I gave it a chance. What the hell is wrong with me? Trying to understand why I hate myself so much is ever consuming, and I honestly don’t think I am strong enough to handle the reality of it. So I let the animosity eat at my flesh, right down to my bones.

When I walk into my apartment, I get a beer and go lie down in my bed. My phone chimes, and I’m scared to look at the text message that I’m sure is from Mark. Reaching over, I pick it up and swipe the screen. I sigh in relief when I see it’s from Candace.

Getting off work soon. Can I stop by later?

Feeling like a total dick, I don’t want to see anyone right now. I love her, but I can’t talk to her. I can barely stand being in the presence of my own thoughts. Here I believed, for the past three years, that I’ve been an openly gay man, but truth is, I’m still hiding. I didn’t see it until Mark came along. He made me realize just how scared of these feelings I actually am. I don’t want a relationship with him because I’m afraid that will make it too real for me. Define me. Gay. Fag. Queer. Fuck. Am I ready for that?

Is this the life that I’m meant to have? No woman? No wife? Immediately, I know that it is. I have never been attracted to women the way I have always been to men. I know I could never have those feelings for a girl. I’ve only ever wanted guys. It seems so easy for Mark to be who he is, as if it doesn’t even phase him. Doesn’t even bother him. I wonder if it ever has.

I pick up my beer and down it. Getting up, I walk back to the kitchen and just grab the whole pack and bring it back into my bedroom. I open another bottle before finally texting Candace back.

I’m out. Maybe tomorrow?

I can’t deal with this right now. I have no idea what I’m doing and feel more confused than ever. Lost.

“Can I get my tab, man?” I ask as one of the bartenders passes by.

Moping around my apartment after what I did to Mark this afternoon was driving me crazy, so I decided to walk to 9 Million, a local bar in my neighborhood. It’s getting late, and I’m about to hit my limit with alcohol.

Sitting here alone, trying to think about anything other than what a total dick I am has proven to be harder than what I was hoping. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m sick of the self-pity, wondering why I have to deal with all of this. Why can’t my life just be simple—simple choices. Hell, who am I even kidding? I know this isn’t a choice. I wish it were. None of this would even be an issue if I were just straight. Maybe I was better off just being numb, taking what I wanted from guys and not having to worry about what it all means for me.

“Here you go,” the bartender says as he hands me my receipt.

I don’t even look at it; I just hand him my credit card and turn around in my seat. It’s a busy night and people are packed in here. Everyone seems so carefree—happy even. I’m envious of them.

Before I turn back in my seat to finish off my drink, I spot familiar tattoos on arms I vaguely remember. Making his way through the crowd, I definitely recognize his face as he pins his eyes on me and approaches. What’s his name? I can hardly filter through my intoxicated brain to remember who this guy is.

I swallow the last of my beer when he leans onto the crowded bar top and says, “Jase. It’s been a while, mate.”

His Australian accent is his tell and it clicks. “Hey, Preston.”

“Haven’t seen you around lately. You just disappeared on me.”

I disappear on almost all the guys I hookup with, and Preston is no different. In fact, this was the very bar I met him in the night we messed around several months back.

“Didn’t disappear. Just been busy,” I respond, not really in the mood to talk.

When the bartender hands me back my card, I stand up, shoving it into my pocket.

“You headed out?”

His accent is more than appealing, then I remember how even more appealing it was in bed. No question, this guy is hot with his short, messy hair, hard build, and the almost cryptic winged tattoo I know is splayed across his shoulders underneath his shirt. Needing to dull the anguish in my head, I find myself return to my not-so-old habit. “Yeah. Wanna come with?”

We head out into the Seattle mist and walk the couple blocks to my building, staggering as Preston drones on about whatever it is he’s talking about. I can’t focus because my mind is still with Mark. I need to rid the thoughts of him; they’re only making me feel worse.

It’s not long before we step into my apartment. I toss my keys towards the coffee table with shoddy aim and hear them hit the floor as I walk to my room. Preston follows and when I clamber into bed, I look up to see him stripping off his shirt before he climbs on top of me.

I’m a fumbling mess, trying to remove my shirt, needing to move quickly in an attempt to clear my head. He doesn’t seem to want to waste any time either when he pulls my pants off and tosses them across the dark room. His kisses are rough and aggressive, and I find it distracting because it’s such a contrast to Mark. God, stop thinking about him.

Returning Preston’s intensity, I flip him over, tear open a condom, and almost immediately find myself regretting this hookup when I slam myself inside of him. This used to be fun, but now it feels wrong. I grip his shoulders, and my emotions start to spin out of control until irritation pervades.

Frustration takes over, and I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. Quickly, I push off of him and fall on my back onto the bed. “You need to go,” I pant out.

“What the hell’s your problem?” he snaps back, and when he does, I roll out of bed, rip off the wasted condom, and yank my boxers on.

“Just get out,” I throw over my shoulder as I walk out of the room and to the kitchen in search of some aspirin. I used to be able to do this, no problem. Pushing feelings aside, and just taking the moment to be in a place of pure physical indulgence. It hits hard when realization affirms that this isn’t what I want. It’s him. How could I be so stupid—weak? Why is it that Mark, in an instant, made everything I thought I knew about myself irrelevant?

“This is really fucked up, you know?” Preston slings with ill temper as he walks into the living room, and I can’t blame him; I’m an ass.

I can’t say anything else, so I just agree. “Yeah, I know,” I mumble before taking another sip of my water, back towards him.

“What, you can fuck me but you won’t look at me?” he yells, becoming more pissed.

“It doesn’t even matter,” I say in a low, defeated voice as I turn to face him. And to me, he doesn’t matter. I’m not even sure I matter.

His words are mixed with threat when he laughs and says, “It doesn’t matter to you now,” before slamming the door behind him.

My phone reads that it’s a little after two in the afternoon when I pick it up off my nightstand. Running my hand down my scruffy jaw, thoughts of what happened last night run through my still sleep-induced head. How is it possible that I feel even worse than I did yesterday?

I should have accepted Candace’s offer to come over last night; it would have saved me from making a complete ass of myself. I’d much rather be waking up with her than alone in the bed where I completely used Preston when all I really wanted was to go back in time and erase screwing things up with Mark. And now—now all I want is her. Truth is, I need her, and I know her well enough to know she won’t pry. With Candace, I’ll be able to relax a bit; she has a way about her that, no matter what, just makes me feel good.

Can you come over?

After I text her, I drag myself out of bed and into the kitchen to mix up some Gatorade. My phone chimes with Candace’s incoming text.

Heading to the studio. Everything ok?

Yeah, just want to spend time with you.

See you in a few hours?

Sounds good.

Knowing that she’ll be coming over, I force myself to pull it together. If she saw me like this, she’d worry too much, and I don’t want her to worry. So I decide that tonight will be like any other night for the two of us. We’ll hang out, cook, and just relax . . . God, I need to find a way to relax.

I decide to forego the self-loathing and hit the pavement for a much-needed run and try to do some productive thinking for a change. I toss back my Gatorade, chugging it before throwing on some clothes and heading out.

I run around Fremont before drifting into the surrounding neighborhoods. Pushing myself, my mind starts to drift again, but this time, I try and focus my thoughts on how to make this right. What I did to Mark was wrong, no question about it. But if I’m ever going to get to a place where I can stop living a lie and face the truth that deep down I know is me, I need to do something. I am so damn torn up about Mark. Why did I have to be such an idiot?

I think about what my parents would say if they knew. What would they do? Pounding my feet against the ground, I take long strides as the thought of baring myself to my parents sends chills through my ragged body while sweat trails down my back.

Fuck that. It will never happen. I just need to get away—get out of Seattle for a while and get some space away from this mess. As much as I don’t want to, I do need to go back home. Check in with my parents. It’s been almost eight months since I went back. We haven’t spoken in a couple of months, so just the phone call alone will be uncomfortable. I know they’ll leave me alone for the most part, and that’s really what I need right now. Space. Get out in the ocean and do some surfing, maybe hang out with some of my old buddies.

Calling my mom was awkward, as predicted since we go long spans of time without speaking. She was a little surprised when I asked if I could come home for a visit. When they said it would be fine, and that they would be there, we decided I would leave at the end of this week and spend a few days with them.

Once that conversation was over, I ran down to the market on the ground floor of my apartment building. I decided to cook fajitas for Candace tonight. Cooking has always been my thing; I love it and find myself cooking for her a lot, since she is normally a bottomless pit. She’s a dance major at UW and spends hours in the studio nearly seven days a week, so she always has an appetite when I cook for her since her idea of cooking is grabbing an apple from her fridge.