“You can smell her on me, can’t you?” My voice comes out in a choked whisper. “My girlfriend.”
Arkin huffs a warm breath against my skin, every muscle tense and hard where his chest almost touches mine.
“Is that what this is about?” I ask, opening my eyes.
Arkin lifts his head. We study each other in the tense silence. When the seconds stretch too long, I laugh harshly. “You don’t like it, do you? Smelling her on me?”
I move my head closer, his jaw ticking visibly as I smirk.
Something raw from deep within, something unfamiliar, eggs me to taunt him. This close, our noses almost brush.
I wet my lips and say, “She took what she wanted, alright. After we hung up, she fucked me again?—”
Arkin slams his hand into the wall, vibrating with rage.
Then, without another word, he spins around and starts tearing through my room, reaching for the nearest objects and tossing them at the walls.
Words fail me as he throws over my bedside table, sending the lamp and digital clock crashing to the floor. It’s fucking lucky my parents don’t come storming in.
He straightens up and takes in the destruction, his chest expanding with harsh pants. I stay silent… What can I possibly say? I’m so shocked and rattled that I can’t speak even if I want to. The most confusing of it all is that I’m racked with guilt, and I can’t wrap my head around it. Arkin is the one acting crazy. Why do I feel bad? Like I did something wrong tonight? Betrayed him somehow?
Eventually, when the silence becomes too much, I whisper, “What the hell, man?”
Dark strands, damp with sweat, fall over Arkin’s brow. He slowly lifts his head and looks at me sideways.
I’m not prepared for his pained expression or the tightening of my chest when he storms out of my room.
He leaves me there, shirtless and rattled, with my girlfriend’s perfume on my bare skin and the crushing load of guilt weighing me down.
“Fuck,” I choke out… then louder, “FUCK!”
I turn around and ram my fist into the wall, but the pain in my knuckles does little to stop this sinking feeling.
An hour later, Arkin still hasn’t returned. It’s a struggle to sleep and I toss and turn, debating if I should find him and apologize.
But for what? I didn’t do anything wrong… He knows I have a girlfriend. He fuckingknows.So why is he upset?
Maybe I shouldn’t have picked up when he called earlier.
Okay, that was wrong of me. It was a dick move, but in my defense, he didn’t hang up. Besides, he has touched me before… he made me come in his hand.
Guilt-ridden, I kick off the quilt and stare up at the strip of light on the ceiling. My room is too quiet without Arkin here. Seems like I’m used to his breathing. And maybe I… miss it now that he’s not here.
Misshim?No, that’s ridiculous.
I roll over and hug the spare pillow close, wishing my chest would stop aching. It keeps throbbing, and moisture gathers in my eyes when a car drives past outside.
A beam of light slides over my posters and shelf of football trophies. Front and center is a framed photograph of me, Harrison, and Ryan. We’d just won our first football game together back when we were in primary school. God, I miss those simpler days. Sweaty, achy, and elated, we smiled like buffoons for the camera.
Back then, we were a far cry from the cocky teenage footballers we are now. Football was fun. Our future held so much potential.
I guess it still does, but it doesn’t feel like it because, if anything, I’m more confused than ever. Football doesn’t bring me the same joy it once did, but maybe I’m out of sorts.
If I can just get my head screwed together… maybe then I can figure my shit out.
I’mstartled awake in the early morning hours when a heavy weight bears down on my back. “What the?—”
A big hand clamps over my mouth just as Arkin’s woodsy, masculine scent surrounds me, heady and warm and forbidden.
