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My mind’s fucked-up right now. I’m generally turned on—by Candy, the threesome, watching the two of them fuck… It’s all jumbled up inside my head.
And after waking up a second time to find Candy scrambling to get dressed, with Jet already gone from the apartment, I want to hit something. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. I should have gone to find him last night, asked him what his cousin said.
Dared him to deny it. Pushed him a little. I missed my chance. Of course, there’s always tonight. Need a plan. Need…
Need what? What am I gonna do, push him against the wall and demand an explanation? Demand full disclosure? Like I’m his boyfriend or something?
Have I gone nuts? Too much sex too soon. That must be it. It’s melting my brain and frying my gray cells. If Jet doesn’t want to talk, then that’s his business.
Pissed at the world and at myself, I roll out of bed—well, off the sofa, almost faceplanting—and march into the bathroom to shower and get ready for another day at the fucking office.
God, I hate working there. Even after the misunderstanding with the boss was resolved, I feel uneasy in my skin. Like he’s watching me.
Totally paranoid, I know, and that shit’s getting old now. It’s been more than a year since the scandal, and although quite a few people on campus were giving me the side-eye then, nobody seems to know my face at work, which is fine by me.
Fuck, if my dad knew about it… I’d find myself disowned.
So what, right? Wouldn’t be the first or the last person to have a fallout with his parents. I know.
And yet. I can’t imagine that—being rootless. Homeless in a sense, even if you have a roof over your head. I remember how pissed off they’d been at my sister when she started dating a guy who’d lived on the street before, a guy who didn’t meet their high standards.
Imagine finding out their son was photographed with his dick out, jerking off as two girls had sex on a couch.
Or even worse, that now he’s getting too comfortable with his roommate. That he has threesomes on his couch.
Yeah, they wouldn’t hold back, like they did with Evie. It sounds damn awful to say this, but they never expected much from her. They sure expect everything from me—to be the perfect son, with the perfect job, perfect magazine spread life, the golden American boy.
Their custom-made son.
At least there’s this new sports project the boss has assigned me that’s taking my mind off all this mess. I’m still getting familiar with it, studying the files and the sponsors, trying to arrange some meetings. Can’t deny I’m excited to be given this opportunity.
If only I could relax.
Man, I wish I could spend my days writing stories, watching Jet draw them into amazing comics. We could sell them. Why the hell not? Why do I have to have a nine-to-five office job like everyone else?
Christa from the marketing room is laughing as I pass, peering at me over her coffee mug, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because of me. If she happened on the picture online.
It could still be floating on the interwebs. Or someone who saved it back then could post it again. People I thought were my friends back then had a kick out of plastering the photo all over the place. Hunting down every single one and doing my best to take it down was a nightmare.
I trust Ellen not to do anything stupid like tell her friends about it, but what about her girlfriend? Her new girlfriend that I barely know.
Christa is definitely staring at me as I pass by again. She winks.
Fuck, I’m getting claustrophobic in here. Can’t wait for this day to end.
***
Despite wanting to leave as early as possible, I stay late at the office, sorting through the papers and folders. The project’s goal is to collaborate with athletes of the region to promote a new brand of biodegradable sports products. The idea is to also involve environmental NGOs, charities, schools and sports clubs.
It’s a big deal. A lot of money is needed. A lot of work required. And I wanna do this. For many reasons.
By the time I decide my brain won’t process anything else and clock out, loosening my tie and rubbing at my itchy eyes, it’s dark and windy outside. I’m driving to the bookshop to pick up Jet and Candy, on full autopilot, when the reality of what I’m doing hits me.
Going to pick up my girl and my boy.
Okay, rewind. Let’s not get carried away, okay? This makes it sound like a routine. Like a relationship. And it’s not. We’re just friends. Who fuck.
What? No. Wait. I fuck Candy. Jet is just my buddy. And Candy is just a pretty girl I happen to like and fuck and who might be my girlfriend one day.
