Page 41 of Wrong Pucking Player

Become someone in this society who’s not a bum.

I was scared to return here because I didn’t know what to expect.

This wasn’t what I thought would greet me upon my return.

“You told me to do whatever the fuck I wanted with this place, threw the key in my face, and left,” Armani announces, pulling me out of my reminiscing moment.

I seek him out with my eyes, noticing he’s leaning against the glass balcony door, staring at the view of the vast forest that practically surrounded us. The view made me feel like we were hidden from the rest of the world.

The secret of Strattonville no one wanted to acknowledge existed.

I close the door behind me and walk over to where he stands, glancing at the balcony that is just as clean and kept exactly how I left it.

The thrift glass table, the single pink pot with a thriving cactus that has doubled in size. Two mini pink stools, one of them having a carved-out heart with AxCxA at the bottom of it, and the twinkling lights that came on whenever they felt like it.

“Then…” I’m fighting for words. “Why didn’t you fuck this place up?”

Now I feel… hollow? Horrible? Like an ass who passed her burden to someone who didn’t deserve to pick up the piece of my broken sanity.

Armani wasn’t a close friend. He wasn’t like Mikayla, who I know would have taken care of this place if she even knew much about it. I was too ashamed to bring her here.

Heck, I’ve never brought Wyatt here…

Yet this man was willing to preserve this place for five fucking years… without being paid a single dime.

When he doesn’t answer, I look over to see he’s already heading to the door. Pausing before the exit route, he reaches for the doorknob before answering my question.

“Life was hard back then, wasn’t it?” He glances back to see my wide eyes, which I know are growing glassy by the second.

My expression is enough for him as he looks away and gives a slight shrug.

“Still hate your guts, Andrews, but everyone deserves a nice warm place to call home,” he concludes. “Even if it’s something many mock us for having.”

He opens the door.

“I’m not giving your key back unless you’re vowing to take care of these plants. They’re a pain in the ass to maintain, so I don’t want you fucking them up if you have another epiphany and disappear.”

“H-Hey!” I huff but watch him further open the door to leave.

“You going for a run?”

Oh. He remembers that.

“Probably,” I quietly confess.

“Cool.”

With that, he’s gone, the door closing behind him and leaving me in a pit of silence. I know with his asking me means he may tag along like he used to do when I went out for runs.

Let me take the lead and stayed at a distance, but was always there…

“Fuck,” I whisper as I let my hand go over my chest.

My heart is beating far too fast.

“Oscar Armani,” I whisper his name as I glance around the room once more. “This makes me wish you weren’t gay.”

Reminding me why I left to begin with.

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