But mostly, I was suspicious. Suspicious that he wanted something.
“I’m good, how are you?” I replied defensively.
If Brian wanted to reenter my life, he was going to have to do all the heavy lifting. I was not going to pursue him. I’d be cordial, that was it.
He texted back and prattled on about his life. He was still working at Insomnia Cookies. He was still trying to finish writing his novel — a novel that I had tried to proofread and helped him through when we were at our closest.
But he never wanted to go beyond that. He never wanted to go further than being a Dom and a Sub. He said it himself: that he never wanted to be my boyfriend.
I frowned as I felt the old wound re-open, tearing a hole through my emotional scar tissue.
Was it possible that… that now he wanted more? Maybe he was in a different place in life… maybe he was ready for more?
Hope swirled in my gut. But then later as I stepped in the shower, I had to dissect that feeling and figure out if I was really interested in reigniting things with Brian.
There were more than a few times where he’d make me feel like I was less. Some words he spat during fights that cut to my core fear: That no one needed me. That I was useless.
I gritted my teeth as I washed my hair, and like pulling my feelings through a sieve, I realized that I didn’t want to be with Brian. The entire reason I was even responding to him wasn’t just to be polite — it was that I was clinging onto the hope that I didn’t have to be lonely. That there was someone in my past that needed me. I decided right then and there that I would stop texting Brian — that was in the past.
When I closed my eyes and Luke’s image popped up there, I felt a pang of sadness.
He would never say the types of things to me that Brian used to. He was delicate; careful. Not fragile though; I knew he could stand his ground.
But I’d let him get away. I’d scared him away.
When I got out of the shower, I immediately checked my phone. On my lock screen, two text previews showed up: A nude from Brian and a message from Luke.
I frantically opened the one from Luke first.
“Can you come pick me up? It’s an emergency”
I’ve never gotten dressed and ready faster in my life.
Speeding down the suburban roads, I arrived at Luke’s house in less than fifteen minutes.
When I texted him that I was there parked in the street, he came frantically out of his house, looking flustered.
It was only when he’d climbed into my front seat that I could see he’d been crying.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Anywhere,” he answered in a hollow, deadened voice.
I had been so preoccupied with getting to Luke’s house as fast as possible that I didn’t think about what happened after.
“Ok, we can go to my house…”
“Not there,” he said, gazing out the window.
My heart sank, and it only solidified that he didn’t want to be in my space. He didn’t want to be around a freak like me.
But what was most hurtful to me, was that by saying that, it meant that he didn’t trust me.
As I pulled the truck onto the two-lane road, an idea formed in my mind.
I pointed my truck down the road and we wound down the roads to the lake.
Throughout the ride, he was quiet. Something was going on in his mind. If he had a thought bubble above his head, it would be filled with tangled lines.
“…are… are you feeling okay?” I asked tentatively, checking in on him.
He blinked slowly, sniffled once, and said: “I will be.”
I parked the truck in a small, random parking spot in a secluded area near the shore. There were only two random parking spots in this tiny square of asphalt. My truck was too big to fit in one of them, so I had to take up both.
Internally, I offered my apologies to whoever came to this area, looking to spend a nice evening on the beach.
But it was unlikely that anyone would come out here; the residents of this town valued safety and comfort. Hardly anyone went out on the beach at night.
A few minutes later, we were sitting together on a sand dune, overlooking the sun setting on the lake. Luke was sitting on a beach towel next to me, his blue eyes as dark as the water.
I knew that I couldn’t force it out of him. He’d talk to me when and if he was ever ready. All I could do was sit next to him and be patient.
“I haven’t been able to talk to you for a few days,” he finally said, staring out onto the water.
My heart felt like it stopped. Something about the way he said that gave me the inkling that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to have space and distance from me.
“My mom took my phone away,” he explained. Then he said in the same hollow voice, “my parents are getting a divorce.”
I drew in a breath sharply, then the words tumbled out of me, “Luke I’m so sorry!”
I was watching him for any hints of emotion, any clues to what might be going on in that head of his. But he was as still and beautiful as a statue.
“It’s okay. It’s been coming for a while, I think,” he admitted. “But the worst part of it was how my mom reacted.”
I was silent, listening. Luke’s mother was a force to be reckoned with. From her reputation, I could picture the way she’d react to a divorce: She’d make quick work of cleaning up the mess, be cordial about it, and make sure her reputation stayed intact.
But I was wrong.
“As soon as I got home from your house the other day, I opened the door and she
