Page 97 of Puck You Very Much
That one just about put me over the top. Normally, I could handle trash talk from anyone and everyone. It was part of the game. And Ireallywould’ve had no trouble dealing with that from Zane because he was a dope, and because I knew he didn’t really mean it.
Given his recent behavior, I would have to revisit that theory.
“I think we need to talk,” I said.
“What about? I’m eating.”
“Yeah, I know. Figured you’re talking shit now that breakfast has been served.”
“No way, dude. I’m talking shit now because you did it first.”
He had a point there. Fuck! I’d said it because it’d become a habit, especially since his toddler tantrum in Delaware Park. You could say that I was proactively defending myself.
“Maybe we should have had an honest conversation about the game right from the start,” I said.
“It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not. We can stop the bleeding, keep things from getting any worse.”
“Thank you for the Mister Rogers routine, Jakob.”
“It’s not a Mister Rogers routine, thank you very much. Besides, do you think Mister Rogers could suck a cock or take it up the ass like I can?”
Zane shifted his eyes past me as if pondering.
“Look, I’m trying to keep things nice and peaceful here, and you’re not helping.”
“If you wanted everything to be all peaceful, you wouldn’t have pulled that bullshit in the park.”
This again. Honestly. Part of me wondered how I ever could’ve felt attracted to a man who could get so hung up on childish crap. I realized it was more than that, though. His ultra-competitive nature could spiral out of control here and there, and you never knew when it would resurface.
Maybe it was all and none of those things. It could’ve simply boiled down to the fact that he was a Remington Riptide.
He wasn’t meant to act like a rational human being.
“I don’t want to get into this Delaware Park business again,” I said.
“Of course you don’t. It’s because you know damn well you cheated.”
“What, would you like to go back and run that stupid race that never meant anything all over again?”
“Yes.”
When my boyfriend didn’t flinch, I knew that he was one hundred and ten percent serious. That was bad news.
“Look, we’ve got to talk,” I said. “That wasn’t a real race. It was just me screwing around. Nothing more to it than that.”
“How can you say that? You were gloating like there’s no tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I did. Why wouldn’t I? We’re athletes, Zane. A little trash talking is what we do. I wouldn’t have thought you were so sensitive.”
That made his eyes widen. I didn’t regret the comment. To me, it was a perfectly valid comment.
“It was a lot more than trash talk, and you know it, Jakob.”
“I’m sorry you see it that way. I know you like to win.”
“No, Jakob, Iloveto win. I hate everything not somehow associated with winning.”
