Page 17 of Burning Obsession

“You got it bad, my friend.” Stellan isn’t wrong. I do. I can admit that. “My two cents are to say fuck it. You like him, call him. If he’s as great as you say he is, he won’t be single long. So don’t let him get away.”

“You’re right. I’m just overthinking everything.”

“Yes, you are. So what are you going to do? I’m going to go, and let you think about it. Make the right decision, Jake.”

With that, he hangs up, leaving me to decide what I’m going to do.

That’s the million dollar question. What am I going to do?

Chapter 5

Jake

Imake it exactly twelve minutes after getting off the phone with Stellan before I convince myself I'm being a damn idiot. It’s just a message. To a person I just met and like. Why am I being so weird about it? Victor said he looked forward to hearing from me? So he wants me to contact him. If he doesn’t answer, then oh well. It’s not like he was my best friend and I’ll never see him again. I’m sure in like twenty or thirty years I’ll have a casual run in with another man just as hot. A silver fox even. A man already established in life, who knows just what he wants and doesn’t waste time worrying about how much time should pass before contacting you.

I’m just overthinking this too much.

Standing up, I take my plate to the kitchen. I go ahead and wash it so I don’t have to later and place it in the dish drainer to dry. A drink. One that’s non-alcoholic since my liver needs a break after last night. One look in the refrigerator tells me tomorrow will be a grocery day since I only have two Cherry Pepsi’s left. One now.

I drop onto my couch with a sigh dramatic enough to earn an Oscar if anyone were here to witness it. I pop the lid and take a swallow, savoring every bit of it.

Okay, Jake, time to grow some balls and message Victor. Alcohol would make this easier, but my Pepsi will have to give me the liquid courage I need.

I pick up my phone from where it rests on the cushion beside me. I go right to my messages and see the one I sent to him.

Still no reply.

Am I an idiot? Surely, if he was interested in me he would’ve messaged. The metaphorical demon on my shoulder whispers. But then the angel sitting on my other shoulder whispers how hypocritical that is because I haven’t sent another one yet.

I worry my lip, going back and forth on what to do.

“Come on, Jake. All you have to do is type. Just say hi,” I say out loud.

I mean his number is right there. Waiting for me to make the first move.

“Just one message. If he doesn’t answer then I know it’s not meant to be.”

I'll send one text. Normal people text without having a freak out about it. If he doesn’t answer then I won’t message again and I’ll just delete the number. No harm. No foul. I shot my shot, and well, it apparently wasn’t a slam dunk.

My thumbs hover over the keyboard. Then I type out a message. Short and sweet.

Me: Hey

I immediately erase it knowing that it was far too casual. It doesn’t show him I have any interest. A message with more than a single three letter word.

Absolutely not. I bite my lip, thinking of something clever to say. Something that shows I care.

“I got it,” I whisper-shout.

Me: Hope you got home okay.

I stare at it but don’t hit send. My forehead wrinkles as I debate sending it.

While it does come off like I care, it sounds more like something a parent or significant other would send. Even a best friend. But someone you just met, I think not.

Why is this so fucking hard? It’s a wonder anyone ever communicates at this point.

I immediately hit backspace until it’s gone.