Page 61 of Worthy

“If you didn’t want anyone to watch, why’d you do it in the room with no door?” Tate asks Ben snidely.

He has a point. But still…

I don’t know what kind of drama these three have going on, but it’s a bit much for me to process. Between this angry guy being a childhood friend of Tate’s, and his husband being Tate’s former fling, I just can’t deal. I feel like I might pass out.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Ryan asks, kindly.

He seems really nice, which has my mind desperate for details on the nature of his history with Tate. But there’s no way I can get into it all right now. Not when they just caught us… And I’m married. Andstraight… I think.

I’m a man of God, who’s not supposed to be adultering. Like, at all.

“I, uh… I should actually be going,” I blurt out fast, running my hands through my hair. I turn to Tate and huff, “I’m sorry. I can’t…”

But that’s all I get out. My voice dries up quick and I spin away from him, stomping up the hall as fast as I can.

I don’t know what I was thinking… Or wasn’t.

Yea, that’s the problem. I wasn’t thinking.

I lost my head being near him again, after so long. Temporary insanity. It happens.

But my stomach is churning, the entire walk back to my car.

When I get to it, I hop in and sit there, staring at the steering wheel for almost twenty minutes before I finally work up the courage to turn the engine on… and drive home.

Chapter Four

Tate

I feel like an idiot.

And I’m telling you… Ihatefeeling like an idiot.

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s doubting myself. I have no room for it. I pushed away those types of insecurities years ago. Now, I like to focus primarily on how awesome I am, and living my best life.

This whole self-doubt and reflecting on the past thing is making me want to puke, then slap myself in the face.

Sixteen years ago, I fooled around with one of my best friends. And then he took off. Quite literallyranaway from me, never to be seen or heard from again. And ever since, I’ve spent every waking moment making sure Ineverfind myself in a situation where I feel so helpless and hurt andstupidever again.

So I’m sure you can understand why Lance Hardy running away from me now,sixteen years later, would make me want to gouge my own eyeballs out of their sockets. Bumping into him in that bathroom was like a massivefuck youfrom the universe. OrGod,as Lance might say. Though I’m sure he would tell me that Godloves me, and would never tell me to fuck off, and blahdy blahdy blah.

But if that’s the case, then why would I be presented with the one person I’ve been actively trying to forget about for years? Of all the people on this big, blue spinning rock, why would I find myself on the other side of a rickety bathroom stall wall fromLance Hardy?

Ditching him at the club felt really good, I must admit. Giving him a taste of his own medicine. I’ve certainly fantasized about it enough… Maybe not so much recently, but definitely during my remaining years at Arizona State. I dreamt about seeing him, telling him off and sauntering away with my middle finger aimed at his stupid, beautiful face. And I got that opportunity, earlier today.

Unfortunately, I’man idiot. And I squandered it, letting him nudge his way back into my world… With his deep brown eyes the same color as mine, and his shiny, tousled blonde hair. His huge behemoth body, all sculpted everywhere… Something he so blatantly squanders by being a fuckingpastor.

He could be a model or a football player, or a hot fireman who slides down a pole with his shirt off.

Lance is justtoogoddamn hot. That’s the only reason I entertained his bogus apology. His dick is too perfect to never let anywhere near my body again. And of course, because Goddoeshate me, I dropped my guard, instantly regretting it when Lance ran off yet again, leaving me standing around like the moron I am—likeIwas supposed to do tohim—with confusion in my chest and a dull throb between my legs.

Well, you know what? Fuck him.

It’s Pride. The last thing I want to be doing is wallowing with blue balls.I’m too awesome for that.

Let’s just chalk it up to a wrong place, wrong time scenario, and find me someone else to sate my wicked need to be ridden raw. Because it’snevergoing to be him.

End of story.

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