Page 78 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

At one point, he was genuinely content with our group.

Our connection brought out that big smile on his face that made him look like a happy boy being presented with the gift he always wanted for that special occasion.

Then it broke.

Cracking in the middle and waiting for that prime trigger that set us all off.

My eyes drift to Mishka.

Crack.

Crack.

Shatter.

When Jayce heard Mishka and O’Riley were over, the banter began. Mockery in any way that would reach Maddox’s ears and leave him feeling even shittier than he already did. Yet to the rest of the world, Jayce painted himself as the victim. The good boy who gave our girl everything she desired and was left behind.

Only because Mikayla fell for the bad boy.

Utter bullshit.

Anything to feed his fucking ego.

I hated him since then because it seemed to taint Maddox and Mishka’s relationship from the get-go, but they fought through it.

Until they couldn’t anymore.

To see Maddox return and claim his Mkaykay was oddly refreshing.

I’d be lying if I wasn’t enjoying the sweet payback of Karma Jayce was now dealing with—publicly at that—but compared to years ago when I was happy for their union, I wasn’t sure how I felt now.

This sensation in my chest now was a lot different. It wasn’t freeing with a sense of pride for my best friends who deserved happy endings.

The constricting sensation gave me a sense of jealousy mixed with feeling left out.

Honestly, I couldn’t figure it out. Pinpoint my flaws that had to be contributing to this emotional torment that started the moment we hit the bar.

The moment I saw Maddox on the dance floor.

Facing the most beautiful redhead any of us had ever seen from afar.

Watching him cup her flushed cheeks and kiss her with everything within him.

The sight and reminder still make my cock harden and twitch.

That’s the real underlying problem.

Reacting sexually to my two best friends together.

I’m almost close to telling my therapist about it during my last session. All of this stimulation and change encouraged me to go to the therapist I hadn’t seen since I left Strattonville. I needed to talk out my emotions for my own sanity.

If I didn’t, I’d be consumed entirely. Swallowed whole with no idea when I’d be free of the toxic masculinity that makes me feel I’m suddenly a mental case.

That has to be the only explanation for my emotional switch being flickered on multiple times when Mishka and O’Riley are around.

I’m trying to call him O’Riley because his name itself leaves my body in tingle chaos otherwise.

The same effect when I hear Mishka’s name.

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