Page 111 of Hitting the Gap

He flicked a look at his friend. “Thanks.”

“So how come you’re sitting over here like your dog just died?”

“I don’t know. Just got a lot on my mind, man.” He untied his shoes and pushed them toward his locker before peeling off his sweaty socks.

“This have anything to do with whatever had you being all mopey yesterday on the plane?”

“I wasn’t mopey. I just didn’t feel like talking and hanging out.”

“You always want to hang out, especially when we’re on the road.”

“That’s because it’s the only time you assholes want to hang out anymore.”

“Whoa.” Smitty’s shoulders snapped back. “Where’s that coming from?”

“Nowhere, fuck, forget it.” He stood up and peeled the rest of his uniform off his body and stalked toward the shower. The locker room was the last place he wanted to have a conversation about his fucking feelings.

He stepped beneath the shower spray and let the hot water hit his shoulders. He cranked it hotter, so it sat just at the edge of too hot and dunked his head under the spray. He turned around, dropped his head, and placed his hand on the wall to brace himself as the burning heat pelted his scalp.

“Fuck,” he yelled as a pain seared his ass. He whipped around to see Charles standing there laughing with his towel in his hand. “What the hell, Chuck?” The fucker had snapped his towel on his ass.

“Stop calling me Chuck,” the man complained.

“Well, stop being an asshole.” Gonzo rubbed his ass cheek.

Charles stepped toward him. Was the fucker seriously challenging him? Not a smart idea in the mood he was in. Game on, asshole. Gonzo took a step.

The next thing he knew, Smitty jumped between them. “Are you fucknuts seriously making me get between you butt-ass naked? Jesus,” Smitty muttered. “Grow the fuck up.” Smitty glared at Charles. “It was a fucking nickname, dude,” he said before turning to Gonzo. “And what the hell? It’s a towel snap. How many times have you done that to me?”

“It’s different,” Gonzo muttered.

“How’s it different? Because you’re in a bad fucking mood?”

He glanced at Charles. No. Because it was different when it was your friends, but he wasn’t going to say that. He rubbed a hand across his face. This shit with Bailey was doing a number on him. Maybe what he needed was some perspective. Surely the guys had talked to their women about this shit. “Can we grab the guys and get a beer?”

“You okay?” Smitty pressed.

“I don’t know.” He sure as hell wouldn’t be if Bailey and he broke up.

“Let me grab a quick shower and we’ll grab the guys. We got you, man.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, then walked back under the spray to wash off.

Half an hour later, Gonzo slung his bag over his shoulder as he walked off the bus at the hotel.

“Is this a pub across the street, or beers in the room, kind of conversation?” Ryan asked.

“I’m not gonna cry if that’s what you’re asking,” Gonzo muttered.

Ryan’s shoulder bobbed. “I don’t know. You want everyone to spill their shit, but you don’t spill yours.”

“Normally, I don’t have shit to spill.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Do you, now?”

“No. I don’t know.” He adjusted his bag. “Just shit with Bailey I could use some advice on.”

“I’m great at handling woman shit,” Ryan said.

---