Page 22 of Freddie

Arnie throws his head back to meet the ceiling and huffs annoyingly at me.

“And why would he not want to talk to you, Simmons? What have you done?”

“It’s more what haven’t I done,” I tell him, cringing at my dumb behaviour.

“What does that even mean?”

“Well, I was annoyed with him! So, when the doc told me I could go home, I thought of messaging him and telling him, but decided not to.” I can’t even look at Arnie as I tell him. Embarrassment floods my cheeks, and I fizzle with annoyance at myself.

“Simmons. Don’t let your head tell you things that aren’t true. Look at me. You can save this. Message him now. If he’s half as interested as he sounded at the start of your story, then he’ll be worth grovelling over.”

“I hope so. There’s just something about him, Arnie. We keep meeting unintentionally. I think he could be the sub I’ve been looking for.”

“Then get your head out of your ass and tell him.”

I nod, a renewed energy fills me as I grab my phone from my rucksack. It lights up, telling me I have missed a call from work, a couple of emails, and some texts. Four from Freddie.

Freddie: Hey, your bed is cleared out and I heard they sent you home. Thats amazing!

Freddie: Chloe said it was not long before my shift started tonight. Wish you could have told me. I could have come and maybe made plans to meet up in the real world.

Freddie: I get it Simmons. Theres no need to message me back. Hint taken, loud and clear. We were only ever a hookup that met again on weird circumstances.

Freddie: You know what. We were a hookup but I honestly thought it meant more than that after getting to know you. More fool me. If you could just forget my number, thanks.

“Oh, yeah, you fucked up,” Arnie says from over my shoulder. I don’t have a response for him. My skin aches right down to my fingertips. I can’t believe I blew it.

I’m a fucking idiot that deserves to be alone.

Chapter 24

Freddie

3 months later (Spring 2023)

“Yeah, Ma, I know. I KNOW! I’ve called them twice. Yeah, apparently they chewed through the wall or some shit while I was at home. No… you’re not listening. Ma…MA!”

I was losing the will to live.

After three semi-pleasant months back in Scotland, I was back in my flat and discovered that there had been a rat infestation while I was gone. Thank fuck, they chewed nothing of importance. Management took care of the infestation, leaving me only to fix a wall and deep clean the apartment. My Ma seemed to think the rats were still here and wouldn’t listen to anything I was telling her. Trust issues much?

“Look, Ma, I need to go. The cleaning service is coming, and I’m meeting Craig. I told you about Craig. I told you when I was home, I will never talk dick sizes with you. Oh, fucking hell, I won’t text a number to Da either. I’m hanging up now.” I sigh with relief when I finally get her off the phone.

I love my family, but three months after a long arse time away from them was too much. I was more than giddy getting back on a plane. While I wasn’t brokenhearted by what Simmons did to me at the hospital, I was pretty pissed that I had allowed myself to get attached to someone clearly uninterested in anything more than the possibility of getting his dick wet.

He basically ghosted me after a couple of really cool days together. Thinking there was more to it than there was, I was kicking myself and all too glad for the time back home away from here. Knowing now that he knew I lived in the same city as him has me worried, though, about bumping into him and having to hear his pathetic excuses about why I’m not ‘right’ for him.

Fuck him, he doesn’t even know me. So what if I flirt and send replicas of my cock to guys I like? That doesn’t mean I deserved what he did to me. And to clarify, I have never sent a replica dick to anyone except him. Which made me feel even more stupid because I thought we had the seeds to grow something. It was too coincidental that we keep meeting the way we have. But no, Simmons was just another Dom with a fetish for power. One who manipulated me even from a hospital bed.

I haven’t heard from him in three long months. I knew he had read my texts, but he never responded. Probably because he was too busy laughing at the pathetic goth guy who volunteers and writes a sex blog and is hard to understand. Not a tanned, cute sub that wants to submit so boringly. Ones that are probably more to his liking, anyway.

I’d tried so hard not to think of him when I was home. Instead, I hiked, spent a weekend with old friends in Fort William, and even wrangled Benji into a brunch meet. He didn’t seem happy to see me, though, and I wondered if he thought I was leaving him behind now that I had money and lived in another country. But that was so far from it. Benji had seemed withdrawn, almost sad, when we met up. He wasn’t wearing his usual clothes, and I joked about never seeing him with his arms covered before, but he hadn’t found it funny. When I asked about his work, he told me he realised it had been disgusting, what he had been engaging in for money, and told me to drop it when I pressed for more information.

I wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but it seemed bigger than just being fed up with an old friend. I had asked my sisters, but as far as they were aware, he was still shacked up with Thomas, happy as ever.

Despite the way he had treated me, I still checked in with Benji every second day. I didn’t want him to think I'd forgotten about him. I even sent him pictures of the apartment and my address, telling him he should fly out with Thomas for the week. I could meet him and we could do some sightseeing, but all I got back was a thumbs-up and a maybe. Trying not to be World War Me, I decided that if Benji wanted to talk to me, he would in his own time.

Wearing a matching black-and-white striped lounge set, I fling my fluffy slippers on and headed for my mail. It was probably overstuffed with pizza coupons and bills.