Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
But like everything uncomfortable, I chose not to think about it.
Once I had the groceries, I drove to the small Lawndale apartment I paid for but didn’t live in. It was one bedroom, darker than it should be because the curtains were never opened. I pulled my keys out to unlock the front door, the stench of cigarette smoke heavy in the air and nearly choking me.
“About time you got your ass here! I swear I can’t count on you for nothing. Spent my whole life raising you, and now that I need a little help, you act like it’s the end of the fucking world. You never appreciate shit. You were never satisfied and always wanted more.”
I ignored my dad. There was no use in bringing up the times they’d left me. When I’d gotten taken away from them and they would promise to come and see me but wouldn’t show up. How they’d forget me after school and ignore me when we were home to the point where for a while, I’d stopped speaking completely.
“I got those lemon waters you like,” was all I said.
“Did you get me two cartons of cigarettes?”
“Nope. Just one. You need to slow down.”
“There you go, trying to run my life again. I don’t leave this fucking house. Smoking is one of the only things I enjoy anymore, and you want to take that from me too. You’re so damn selfish. Always have been.”
He kept going, but I tuned him out, going back out for more groceries, then putting them all away.
My parents had been volatile together. One minute they were obsessed with each other, the next they hated each other. They were always fighting and kicking each other out, or partying together and disappearing on me for days at a time. I never knew what to expect. I hadn’t spoken to them in years after I’d graduated from high school. They’d left California, and I couldn’t have cared less. By that point, I was always staying with Marcus anyway.
Then a few years ago my dad came back. My mom had passed away, and no one had taken the time to tell me. So here he was, the years of drinking and drugs having aged him and taken their toll on his health, and I was the sucker who’d been taking care of him ever since.
“You went to the doctor yesterday, right? That medical transportation service was supposed to pick you up.”
“Yeah, I went. Damn doctor doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.” He went off on a tangent about him next.
I finished putting the food away, made him some dinner, and cleaned the apartment. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do anything for himself. I didn’t know why I was cooking or cleaning, but I did it once a week like fucking clockwork.
He didn’t thank me as I handed him his plate.
Jesus, I should have just stayed with Sebastian, or asked him to come over to mine, or checked to see if he had plans—I froze because that wasn’t what I was supposed to be thinking. I should have wondered about Parker or Marcus or Corbin—anyone else other than Sebastian.
“What crawled up your ass?” Dad asked, surprising me. Not that he cared, but my discomfort must’ve shown on my face.
“Nothin’. You need anything else? I’m gonna head out.”
“Another carton of cigarettes, but you don’t really care what I need. You just tell yourself you’re taking care of your family so you feel better, but you really don’t give a shit.”
I didn’t say anything else, just went for the door and walked out. I was so fucking tired of it all.
For a moment I thought about calling the guys, but instead ended up at Driftwood. One of the bartenders was glad to go home early, so I worked until closing. A guy tried to pick me up, offered a blowjob in the bathroom or to go to his place, but I turned him down and went home alone.
* * *
“If you had to have sex with one of the guys from The Vers, who would you choose and why?” Corbin asked, earning a collective groan from the rest of us. “What? This wasn’t my question. Someone wrote in and asked. You can’t blame me, so everyone wipe those fucking Corbin looks off your faces.”
“I always look like that,” I replied.
“Ha-ha-ha, fuck you, Declan,” he countered.
“Creative comeback.”
“Because yours was so much better?” Corbin quirked his brows. Maybe he had a point.
“Do we really have to answer this?” Parker asked. “It perpetuates the stereotype that gay men are all sleeping with each other if they’re friends.”
“I mean, I’d like hanging out with you guys more if that was the case.” Half the things Corbin said he did to get a rise out of everyone, and it always worked. Parker picked up one of the homemade doughnuts he’d brought and threw it at Corbin. He caught it and took a bite. “Thanks, man. I wanted one but couldn’t reach.” Yeah, right. He likely wouldn’t eat most of it.