Page 36 of This or That
Mike
Bundled in my dark green winter North Face parka, black scarf, and matching beanie, I shiver on Troy’s doorstep.
“Hey, baby, I couldn’t take it anymore.” I shouldn’t have raised my voice, but it slipped out before I could stop myself.
What was I thinking? Grumbling at my thoughtlessness, I prick up my ears and, once I’m certain the place is peaceful, close the door behind me, as gently as my excitement allows.
For the first time, I used the key that Troy gave me when I impulsively told my mom to stay as long as she needed. My perfect boyfriend figured that I might want to crash without permission. His one-bedroom apartment in Park Slope is a typical bachelor pad, small but homey with minimalist décor. It’s right off Prospect Park, the Central Park of Brooklyn, which makes it a trendy neighborhood, in a good way. The single drawback is having to hike all the way to Manhattan for work after I sleep over! Maybe I should convince my mom to check into a hotel after all…
Missing Troy like crazy, I tossed and turned all night long. To shake off my exhaustion, I spent ample time swimming at the local gym at the crack of dawn to avoid awaking my mother who’s sleeping above my own gym. Then, I sprinted here on autopilot, acknowledging that I’d been sporting a semi at the mere thought of him.
“You have no idea what I’m up to,” I murmur to myself, pretending to address my lover that I’ll surprise by sliding into his warm bed stark naked… after I fix breakfast so that it’s ready when I’m done blowing him.
This week’s been so hectic that we only saw each other twice. Seventy-six hours without his warm body is an eternity. I yearn for a skin-on-skin contact. Vegas unleashed my horny side and we’ve been fucking like rabbits since then... Or rather, he’s been fucking me. Returning the favor is next on my list, although I’m torn between the urge to claim his glorious ass and the hesitation that I won’t fit in his tight hole. My face flames with these memories in mind as I deposit the box of goodies from Buttermilk Bakeshop on the counter of his open-plan kitchen, then rub my cold hands together.
A content sigh leaves my mouth as I shed my leather gloves and the rest of my winter gear, placing everything on a barstool shortly after. My chest swells with pride at my uncharacteristically bold move.
Striding to the fridge, I grab the ground coffee and fix a large pot; we’re both heavy coffee drinkers. I inhale deeply, letting the aroma fill the room and my nostrils. That’s one of my favorite scents, apart from Troy’s skin, of course.
A wry smile on my face, I glance at Troy’s bedroom door and get undressed, holding my breath in a ridiculous attempt to remain unnoticed. Butterflies swarm in my stomach when I imagine my sleepy, sexy, and very naked lover. Later today, we’ll be celebrating Halloween with our friends, including his partners in crime, Claire and Drake, who I have yet to meet.
But right now, as I sneak into Troy’s dark room, clad in only my boxer briefs that he’ll be too happy to get rid of himself, I have one thing on my mind and the perfect line for it: “I don’t want to do anything but you.”
Tugging my throbbing cock, I squint to adjust to the darkness. His bedroom’s immense, compared to the rest of the place; it’s where he stores his DJ equipment and other music stuff, whose names I keep forgetting.
Quietly, I turn towards the bed, guided by my irrepressible need and his light snores. My heart skips a beat. My throat constricts. My legs give way.
Transfixed, I swallow the bitter taste of Troy’s betrayal as I spy the man I love in bed with a woman whose face is hidden by a mane of dark curls.
Son of a bitch! My hand releases my manhood that didn’t get the memo yet. It takes an eternity to tear my eyes from this disgusting sight. I could wake them both and make a scene, but my need to throw up is stronger. Instead, I sprint from the room, fetch my clothes that I put back on in haste, and grab the pastry box to erase the evidence of my visit.
Quietly closing the door on what could have been my future, I pause at the threshold. My heart sinks as I let the tears well like the crushed, hopeful, and weak soul that I am.
You know what, Troy Hunter?I break from my thoughts and voice my hurt.
“Fuck you!”
* * *
Thirty-five minutes of weight lifting.Forty-five minutes of lower body exercises. An hour on the treadmill… and it’s still not enough to calm my frayed nerves. Blindly swiping the beads of sweat collecting on my forehead, I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I won’t stop.
Observing myself in the full-wall mirrors isn’t an option today. I don’t need to be reminded that I’m a flustered mess. So, instead, I’ve opted to keep my eyes closed for the majority of my workout.
Noise-cancelling earbuds in, I lip sync the lyrics to the music blasting in my ears. The rest of the world ceased to exist long ago. There’s just me and the growing self-hatred.
No matter how heavy I go on the free weights, my overthinking mind is on a roll. My stupid heart sinks. My useless body is leaden.
How could I have been so gullible? How could the piece of shit betray me like this? How could I let this pseudo-affair go on for so long?
At once, the treadmill slams to a complete stop, and I pop my eyes open and grip the handle right before tumbling from the equipment. I’m brought back to a reality that I’m not ready to face just yet.
What the hell?
It takes me a second to register that the music’s volume prevents me from holding a conversation. Palming my earbuds, I look at my surroundings, trying to catch my breath before the weight of angry eyes meets my own.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Huh?”
