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Since I walked out of Riddick’s apartment and made my decision to stick to my rules for good. No thinking of him or Brylee. Not talking to them.
No jerking off to them, either.
No exceptions.
It’s the only way.
That’s what I repeat to myself over and over again as I work, as I go to the water cooler, as I enter the meeting room, my head full of numbers and client details.
I’m doing what I have to do. Of all people, my father should understand. Like I said, he was the one who instilled the importance of keeping the schedule in me. The importance of following every rule and every precaution to the letter.
Damn, his words burned. They burrowed deep, hitting home, hitting way too hard.
I rub at my chest as I park outside the gym, and sit there, just breathing.
Is it true? Would Mom disapprove of me? Am I turning into my father? Am I doing it all wrong?
And Christ, why worry about it now? I’m a goddamn adult, no matter what my father seems to think.
I still can’t believe he went and asked my doctor. What about doctor-patient confidentiality? What did he do, pull rank on her from their military days together?
For chrissakes.
Gathering my bag, I climb out of m
y car and march into the gym, glancing around. Still looking for two familiar faces, despite my resolution.
Lame, Ryan.
I haven’t seen Riddick since that evening in his apartment. He hasn’t been at the gym, or lounging around here.
Not that I’ve been checking.
Yeah, I’m a bad liar.
And as for Brylee… I’ve seen her at the office. Hard to avoid each other when we have to attend meetings together sometimes, or just passing each other in the corridor.
But she hasn’t come on to me again. Hasn’t accidentally crashed into me, or “ignored” me. Not once.
Is she pissed at me for the way I left last time?
And why do you care? Don’t tell me you miss her?
Shut up, I tell the annoying little voice that has grown louder lately. You know nothing.
Unbelievably, laughter echoes inside my head.
Oh, fucking awesome.
***
More days pass. I fight the snarky little voice, fight the madness. The need.
I also ignore my father’s phone calls. I don’t need to hear again how I should visit the doctor, how I should be careful while leading a wild life, free of fear.
He makes no sense. And I’m confused enough with myself without his input. I’m annoyed at myself. I thought I had more self-control. More discipline. What have I been doing all these years if I can’t let this go?
Steeling myself, my resolve, I try to find the focus I had a few weeks ago. I read more about computer programming and dive back into War and Peace, a gift from my Uncle Gordon. He’s the brother of my mom, which is why I picked it up again.
