Page 7 of Letting it Ride

Miller holds up two more soda cans and a pair of black socks that I vaguely remember taking offa week or so ago when I realized there was a hole in the toe of one of them. “Go, asshole. You stink.”

I’m not in the mood to argue. I’m not in the mood for much of anything lately, to be honest. I’ve broken up with Ellie more times than I can count, but this last one wrecked me. I’m playing like shit, losing money left and right to the point where I’m on the verge of losing sponsors and having to get a real job. Just one more thing in my life that Ellie can ruin.

I wish I drank. This seems like a situation where a few beers would really help. Or a whole bottle of gin.

I shuffle over to the bathroom and reluctantly turn on the shower. The hot water does feel good, as does the filth sluicing off my body, but fuck if I’ll admit that to any of the guys.

Since Maddox met Holly, he and I haven’t spent as much time together. He knows about the thing with Ellie, of course, but he was so busy with wedding planning that I didn’t get to go into all the details with him. I just told the two lovebirds that Ellie and I broke up and that was why I wasn’t in a great mood.

I believe Holly’s instructions werePull your shit together for one day or I’ll rip off your nuts, but I’m paraphrasing here.

With Maddox wrapped up in love, I’ve gottencloser to Miller and Blake, the other member of our informal poker club, although Maddox is still my best friend, at least on paper. I’ll take any friends I can get these days, though.

I feel better as I step out of the shower, smelling like Irish Spring instead of stale cheese dust. But I’m not really sure I want to feel better. A large part of me just wants to keep wallowing in my misery. I’m done trying.

But in an attempt to get Miller off my back, or at least out of my apartment so I can return to doing nothing, I shave the scruff that’s turned into a full beard and put on deodorant. I draw the line at hair gel. I only use it to perfect the messy hairstyle—yes, the messy look is intentional—and as I’m not planning to leave this apartment anytime soon, the baseline mess is fine.

The guy looking back at me from the mirror when I’m finished at least looks like a guy who didn’t recently have his heart ripped out. I think that was the goal, but it doesn’t make me feel better about my situation.

I emerge from the bedroom wearing a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, because let’s not go too crazy here. I’m willing to put on a shirt and pants if I have to,but like I said, I’m not leaving the apartment. Everything I need is right here, courtesy of several different food delivery apps and streaming video services.

The living room has transformed in the twenty minutes since Miller sent me to take a shower. The empty cans and used plates have disappeared from where they had accumulated next to the couch. There’s a vague scent in the air, something I’m not used to. It’s like… fruity and summery or something. I sniff again.

“It’s a scented candle,” Miller says, walking out of the kitchen. He’s folding a towel that I didn’t even know I owned.

Sure enough, there’s a pink candle flickering on a side table next to the TV. “Who uses scented candles? And where did that come from?”

Miller rolls his eyes, like I’m the one asking stupid questions. “Anyone who doesn’t want their house to smell like ass, you moron. My mom sends them to me all the time. That’s why my place smells good. I brought you one, along with some carrots, because I’m guessing you’ve eaten nothing but processed shit covered in artificial cheese dust for the last few weeks. I’ll tell her you just said thank you.”

I wonder what it would be like to have a mom likeMiller’s. Or Maddox’s. The kind that are all in your business, but in a sweet, helpful way. “Well, thanks for cleaning up. But I’m fine.”

Miller crosses his arms over his University of Scranton t-shirt, blond hair falling in his face. The man always looks like he needs a haircut, yet somehow, he’s the one here lecturing me on cleaning myself up. Go figure.

“Cam, you know I love you. But we’re worried about you. All of us are. Maddox has been drowning in wedding stuff and honeymoon plans and Blake is at some university thing or they’d both be here, too. Ever since you and Ellie broke up, you’ve been in a funk,” he says, a crease forming between his brows.

“I have not.” I totally have. It pisses me off to have it pointed out, though.

He points at me. “You’ve pulled out of two tournaments. You’ve skipped almost all of our games. Between Maddox getting married and you throwing your little pity party, it’s been just me and Blake half the time, so we end up not even playing. And are you even playing online anymore?” Miller’s eyebrow arches. I hate that he’s right.

I let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll snap out of it. If I have to.”

Miller gives me an approving nod. “Besides, I think you just need to find a rebound. We all know Ellie did a number on you. We’ve been by your side for this whole messed-up relationship, and I’ll admit that the way it ended was particularly brutal. But you have to get back out there, man.”

I’m about to argue, but maybe he’s right. Maybe I need to remind myself that there are other girls out there. I mean, I’m not going to fall in love. Or even get in an actual relationship, because you can’t trust anyone but your friends these days. That ship has sailed.

And I still believe what my parents taught me, that you have to put in work to make a relationship last, and I’m not in a spot to put that work in for something long-term. But I could see myself going on a date or two. Maybe even having some sex. It’s just been me and my right hand for a little too long.

Miller sits on my couch, wiping away the last of the crumbs from the coffee table with a grimace. “Let’s get you on a dating app.”

I frown. A shower was one thing. Dating apps are another. I pull my gaze from where it’s fixed on the coffee table to give Miller a side-eye. “Fuck no, man. I’m not doing that.”

He gives me a withering look. “Why the fuck not?We’ve all done it. Those girls are single, or at least they’re supposed to be. They’re generally not pregnant with other men’s children.” He raises a brow. “The bar is low here, man. You can go out with a few of them.”

I flop down on the couch next to him. “I guess. I’m not against going out with someone, trying to move on. I’m just not great company right now, and I’m not ready for an actual relationship.”

Miller opens his mouth and then closes it again, like he wants to say something but is holding back. He changes the subject. “Are you still doing that spring break cruise thing?”

The cruise. I perk up. I’d almost forgotten. Maybe we’re all past college and our real spring break days, but that’s what I need right now, more than a girl from a dating app. A chance to leave reality and my life behind for a little while.

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