Page 53 of Played
There’s only one man I can think of who’ll have good advice regarding how to get out of my King funk. And that’s how I find myself lying on my sofa with Tyler on speaker while I confessa hell of a lot more than I should. I don’t tell him the whole truth. Only enough about the way King left eighteen years ago to provide context about the situation I’m in.
“So he just disappeared?”
“Yeah. Didn’t even go to Harvard like he’d planned. He vanished off the face of the earth. He did such a good job of it that I thought something awful had happened to him when he didn’t show up to college. Stupidly, I hired a PI to find him. A few weeks later, he showed me photos of King sitting outside a pizza joint in Idaho with some girl. They were laughing.” The look of pity on that PI’s face still makes me cringe. How fucking pathetic I must have seemed. And yeah, my eagerness to make sense of what had happened made me pathetic. It was then I realized I was the only one hurting. That King had truly moved on. As though our time together meant nothing.
I’ve never felt so worthless—so fucking empty. Even what his father did never hurt as much as the realization that I was so easily discarded by the same guy I would have willingly died for. And that was the moment I swore nobody would ever leave me feeling like that ever again.
“Wow. Sounds like he was a douche. But he was what, eighteen? Maybe he was struggling with who he was. Could be he’s changed.”
“I don’t know, Ty. One thing I am sure of is that he has me all fucking kinds of messed up.”
“You need to ask yourself whether you want to be with him or not,” he says, cutting through the bullshit the way only he can.
I let out a weary sigh. “That’s the problem though. I do want to be with him, but I don’t want to want that. It’s like craving extra butterandcream in your mashed potatoes, or that last shot of Scotch, even though you know you’re going to regret it because it’s bad for you, or it’s gonna make you throw up.”
“Fuck me,” he mutters. “This King guy really did a number on you.”
I snort a laugh. “And then some.”
“Then I really don’t know what to tell you, buddy. I’ve never known a guy to get under your skin like this before, and only you can determine if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“Oh, it’s definitely a bad thing.”
“Okay,” he says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. Which makes sense because I don’t believe it myself. “So, if you can’t go fuck the guy you can’t stop thinking about, and what you’re saying you want is to notwant this guy, then go do something about it.”
That’s far too manywants for one sentence. “What do I do, Ty?”
“The thing every jilted, star-crossed, or brokenhearted lover does to get over the object of their affection—you get under or, in your case, on top of someone else.”
I blow out a breath. If only it were that easy.
Tyler laughs. “I can practically hear you thinking.”
I can’t help but smile. “Oh yeah, so what am I thinking, buddy?”
“Well, firstly, you’re thinking you wish I was there so we could go out together and I could be your wingman.”
“True,” I admit. “You are the best wingman ever.”
He laughs again, and I’m reminded how easy our friendship is. Relationships should be like this too. Easy, uncomplicated. “And secondly, you’re thinking what if you fuck someone else and this guy is still in your head after.”
I snort, refusing to admit he’s right on both counts.
“And I’d say there’s only one way to find out.”
“You think I should go fuck someone else?” I wince at the incredulity in my tone. What the hell is that about? Ty’s suggestion is a perfectly valid one. It’s the way I’d move on fromany other relationship where any suggestion of catching feelings was involved.
“Better than sitting at home alone beating yourself up. You and this guy aren’t exclusive, so what’s stopping you?”
How about the fact that I’ll be picturing King if I do end up balls-deep in some other guy. “We’re nowhere close to exclusive. Not even dating. Not anything. Not even able to be seen smiling at each other in public.”
“Right. You said he’s not openly gay,” he murmurs like he’s talking to himself.
“Nope, he’s firmly in that closet.”
I pace the room now, chewing on my lip and arguing with myself in my head. Tyler remains frustratingly silent. “Is that your best advice, then? Go fuck someone else and get him out of my system?” I’m short with him, and he doesn’t deserve it, but he responds before I can apologize.
“I never specifically said that, jerkwad.”
