Page 30 of Playing with My Heart

Inside, I was a mess of conflicting emotions—a whirlwind of relief and excitement tempered by the sight of Parker’s raw vulnerability. He was free; the man I’d been harboring feelings for was no longer tethered to someone else. But celebrating that fact felt wrong when he sat across from me with shadows under his eyes and a heartache that resonated in the space between us.

“Hey,” I said, my voice softening. “Sometimes things don’t work out no matter how hard you try, and it fucking sucks. Especially when you still care about the other person. But you will get through this, and you will find happiness again.”

“Thanks, Travis.” He offered a small smile—forced, but it was something. “For listening. For picking me up last night. I’m sorry I was such a mess.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. I was glad you called me, although I hated the fact that you were hurting. But I’m always here for you, no matter what,” I replied, my chest tightening. I wanted nothing more than to pull him into my arms, to tell him everything would be okay—that maybe, just maybe, there was something better waiting for him. Waiting for us. But I held back, knowing that right now, he needed a friend, not a hopeful suitor.

“Let’s just stay in and take it easy today, huh?” I suggested, standing up to clear our breakfast remnants.

“Sounds good,” he said, but the weariness in his voice was unmistakable.

As I busied myself with the task of cleaning up, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the moment—the pivotal point where everything could change. But for now, I’d be the friend he needed.

I flicked on the TV, scrolling through Netflix as Parker settled into the corner of my worn leather couch, his body curled inward as if trying to make himself smaller. The silence between us felt thick, heavy with raw emotions.

“How about a mindless action flick?” I suggested, pausing on some generic blockbuster that promised plenty of explosions.

Parker shrugged, a non-committal gesture that spoke volumes about his state of mind. “Sure, whatever you want.”

I hit play, more for the background noise than anything else, and settled in next to him, careful to maintain a respectful distance. As the opening credits rolled, I snuck a glance. His eyes were fixed on the screen, but I could tell he wasn’t really seeing it. His mind was elsewhere, likely replaying the events that led to his breakup with David.

As the movie progressed, I found myself paying more attention to Parker than the plot. Every sigh, every shift of his body, every absent rub of his thumb against the fabric of his sweats—it all spoke louder than the dialogue blaring from the TV.

Halfway through the movie, Parker’s breathing had evened out, his head lolling against the back of the couch. I watched as his eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally claiming him. Without thinking, I reached for the throw blanket draped over the arm of the couch and gently covered him.

As I tucked the blanket around his shoulders, he stirred slightly. His eyes opened, unfocused and bleary with sleep. “Travis?” he mumbled, his voice thick and low.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered, my hand lingering on his arm. “Just rest.” He nodded, his eyes already drifting shut again. But before sleep could fully reclaim him, his hand found mine, fingers intertwining with a grip that was both desperate and comforting.

My heart stuttered in my chest. I knew I should pull away, that this wasn’t the time or place for anything more than friendship. But the warmth of Parker’s hand in mine, the vulnerability etched on his sleeping face—it all made my resolve crumble.

I stayed there, my hand in his, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. The movie played on, forgotten backgroundnoise to the riot of emotions coursing through me. Part of me felt guilty, like I was taking advantage of his vulnerable state. But a larger part reveled in this fact that when he’d needed comfort, it was my hand he’d reached for.

As the credits rolled, he stirred again, his grip on my hand tightening briefly before relaxing. His eyes fluttered open, confusion clouding them for a moment before recognition set in. “Oh,” he murmured, slowly withdrawing his hand from mine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

I tried to ignore the sudden emptiness in my palm. “No worries,” I said, keeping my voice light. “You needed the rest.”

Parker sat up straighter, running a hand through his tousled hair. “How long was I out?”

“A couple of hours,” I replied, glancing at the clock. “Feeling any better?”

He nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A little, yeah.”

“You know what? I think we need some proper comfort food,” I declared, reaching for my phone. “How about we order in from that little pizza place down the street? Their garlic bread could probably cure cancer.”

A hint of a smile played on Parker’s lips. “That does sound good,” he admitted.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll order a feast fit for kings—or at least two guys with nothing better to do on a lazy afternoon.”

As I placed our order—enough pasta, pizza, and garlic bread to feed a small army—Parker browsed through the movie selection. The tension in his shoulders seemed to have eased a bit, his posture more relaxed as he scrolled through the options.

“How about this one?” he asked, pausing on a quirky indie comedy. “I’ve heard it’s pretty good.”

I grinned, settling back onto the couch. “Perfect. Nothing like a good laugh to chase away the blues.”

As the movie started, I couldn’t help but sneak glances at Parker. The afternoon light filtering through the blinds cast a soft glow on his face, highlighting the curve of his cheekbone, the slope of his nose. Even in his sadness, he was breathtakingly beautiful.

The movie turned out to be a gem—full of witty dialogue and absurd situations that had us both chuckling despite ourselves. As the main character stumbled through one ridiculous scenario after another, I found myself savoring the moments when his laughter broke through the melancholy he had been shrouded in all day.

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