Good Boy by Megan Lowe

Chapter 30

Idon’t know how long I sit on the floor of the bathroom. I don’t know if the reason my eyes are shining is because of the tears that are welling or the fact I try to rub them away. At this point, I don’t know anything.

Not wanting to put my wet boxer-briefs back on, I wrap a towel around my waist, angrily wiping away the evidence of Cav and my… whatever you want to call whatever the fuck just happened.

I wipe and I wipe, long past the time where there’d be anything left, leaving a nasty red mark on my abs.

I had him.

I had him, and now he’s gone. Again.

I try to remember all that he said to me, but I can’t find it in myself to care what he said. It doesn’t mean shit anyway.

How can he experience what we just did and still not care? How can he walk away so easily from something this good? Because we could be; we proved tonight how good we could be together, and still he walks away? Who does that?

Someone who’s scared, a voice in the back of my mind answers.

I want to tell him we’re all scared, that living itself is scary, but I know it won’t make a difference.

I take a deep breath. Despite what he said, Cavanaugh McLaughlin doesn’t care for anyone but himself.

But yet, the little voice says again, you can’t stop thinking about him, wanting to be with him.

I shake my head. I have to forget about him, forget about what happened here tonight, what happened months ago.

I open the door, the memory of Cav and me together disintegrating as the stench of chlorine floods in.

Thomas is still where we left him, passed out on the sunbed, golden skin gleaming. What was he playing at tonight? He can’t be serious about being with me, can he? Or is this all part of his plan to get back at Cav? And if it is, why is he dating me going to work? Cav proved tonight that he doesn’t want to be with me, and that’s assuming of course, that Thomas knows he’s gay, which I’m certain he doesn’t. No one does. No one ever will. And that means he’ll never be with me. But it’s clear he didn’t like seeing me with Thomas. Flashes of us together, visions of him on his knees before me, run through my head. I want him. I know this. I’ve always known this. And Thomas, perhaps inadvertently, is giving me a way to do that. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully?

I run my hands through my hair and head over to my clothes. It’s clear I’m not going to get anywhere tonight.

I slip my jeans on, commando, and pull on my shirt. Another glance back at Thomas shows him still peacefully asleep.

I grab another towel and cover him with it.

I take a side door out of the pool that leads me to the side of the house. I walk around the front and to my car without being seen, any effects of the beer long since gone. Chloe and her friend have obviously moved their party to somewhere more private.

I unlock the car and slide in, resting my head on the steering wheel.

What a night.

But, the little voice says, what are you going to do now?