Page 170 of Gym Bros
“How would I know that? What if he’s just a lesson I’m supposed to learn?”
Ryan huffs. “Good fucking question.”
“You give it time,” Mal says.
“Time does help,” Ryan agrees.
“But, dude,” Mal says. “You need a new manager.”
Something else crumples inside. The idea of that hurtstoo. I don’t know if it’s a soft spot I have for Marcus in particular or the idea of kicking a man when he’s down, but I can’t see myself abandoning him.
Malcolm goes on. “Because what if after some time Sam wants to try again with you? You want him to question what the fuck is going on every time you’re traveling with his dad?”
I literally swallow bile. It rose up so fast, I barely felt the burn. “I get it,” I manage to say. “I might need to go ahead and take that shower.” Mainly because I want to sit under the spray and sob.
“You know where we are if you need us,” Mal says because he really is a soft-hearted sweetie. I knew Ryan first, but Mal is definitely the yin to his yang.
They leave me with long hugs and promises to check on me tomorrow.
I’m beyond shocked when I get out of the shower after nearly an hour and find a text from Samuel waiting for me.
Samuel
What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?
I return it with shaking fingers. He sent it twenty minutes ago.
Me
Will you let me see you tomorrow?
Samuel
Let you? Fucking LET YOU? Fuck you.
He might as well have kicked me in the throat. I can’t breathe.
All I want to do is scream, and I wish so fucking bad I was the man in the cage with him today. Submitted in under two minutes.
I sleep a reallylong time but mainly because I don’t want to get out of bed. Siva, at least, is happy. This is the most uninterrupted time with me she’s had in weeks. I open my phone. No new messages.
Out of habit, I check Samuel’s location.
He’s at home.
The fact that he’s still sharing it with me shouldn’t give me any hope. He could have easily forgotten to turn it off with everything else that’s happened.
I can’t stop myself from thinking about the plans we had for today. Carbs. Non-athletic sex. We were going to talk about his career and my place in his life.
His text, whether he realized it or not, leaves a lot of room open for interpretation. The fuck you was kind of a signal not totry talking to him, but the let you part…well, that could mean he has an expectation that Idoshow up. That Iowe it to himto show up and explain myself.
Even if he slams the door in my face, it’s the literal least I can do.
I crawl out of bed and walk over to my drawers, pulling out sweats and normal underwear, a t-shirt and one of my zip-up sweatshirts. Samuel’s hoodie is currently on me. I’ve never washed it, and I gather two fistfuls of it and bring it to my nose, smelling it—the lingering traces of him there.
I can’t give it back. It’s the only thing I have of his, and if I lose it?—
Fuck, why can’t I stop wallowing? I need to be in problem-solving mode. I need to fix this. But no matter what combination of words I string together in my head as an option to say to him—nothing makes this okay.
