Page 21 of Freddie

Another sub.

Another who lost interest outside of kink. I sigh, shoving the heel of my right hand into my eye with frustration. My one bruised side is on fire from the pain, but I don’t care. I sit for a while with my eyes closed, angry and disappointed that I was foolish to assume Freddie would be different. Thoughts swirl around in my brain, some fact and some fiction, but they all make me feel the same sadness. I was unwanted. Slumping further down the bed, I let my dramatics consume me for a while until it’s time for the doctor to visit again.

The rail around the bed slides noisily overhead, and my doctor appears from the blue cloth. I look up to see him holding his chart, merrily waving it at me as if completely unaware of the misery going on inside of me.

“Well, looks like we were just being overcautious after all. You’re free to go. I’ll have the nurse come by with some pain medication, but nothing you can’t already get over the counter. I’ll get you booked in to have a look at your wrist in about five to six weeks.”

I make a plan to phone Arnie and get him to pick me up. I’ll have to phone work and tell them I’ll be off for a while too, but they’re usually quite understanding with that since I’ve worked there for so long. My mind drifts back to latex, black nails, and Freddie’s cheeky grin. Groaning, I contemplate telling him I’ll be going home today so he knows not to drop by. But will he even care? Seems like he can’t wait to fuck off home anyway, so why should I? He’ll just have fun with the next Dom type that gets into an accident and ends up here. Fuck, I’m being an asshole.

Despite that, I don’t think whatever was happening between us was ever going to go anywhere. This weird setup in the hospital was completely coincidental and something that never would have happened if I hadn’t been involved in a crash.

The nurse comes by with a prescription, then I am officially signed out of the hospital. Only once I’m in the toilet do I realise that I’ve been in boxer shorts and a gown for the last three days. Yeah, I managed to shower with a bag over my arm, but I hadn’t needed to dress myself. Fuck.

After a ridiculous amount of time wrestling, sweating and cursing, I’m dressed.

“What the fuck were you doing in there?” Arnie chuckles at my misery when I return to my side of the room. I growl at him, grabbing my bag and turning to leave as he trails behind me, amused.

The drive home is quiet, and I know Arnie is trying to give me some space, but he’ll want to know what’s up with my bad mood soon enough. Feeling like an asshole, I invite him in for Chinese and beers to say thanks, which he accepts. We eat, watching some mindless shit on TV as Arnie fills me in on his job, his plans to see his friend Mags and his husband over Christmas.

Arnie grew up in foster care after his parents died in a car crash. Mags was roomed with him as a teen, and they’ve been like brothers ever since.

“Want to share why you have a fairly large stick up your ass, or should I ask again tomorrow?”

Rolling my eyes, I decide it’s probably just better to tell him what’s been going on. If Freddie ever came to the club via Burt for his work, then Arnie might eventually meet him. Arnie was a Dom too, so there could also be interest there if Freddie went looking for more than just a tour. The thought of him with someone else doesn’t make me jealous, but it makes me sad when I think that it could have been me.

“I met someone.”

“Right? And it hasn’t worked out? Was it a sub?”

“We met by accident a couple of times; when I finally got his name, he was called away for work. That was about two months ago. Then he randomly showed up on my ward as a volunteer, and we hit it off again. He’s a sub, into latex too.”

Arnie nods along. He throws his finished Chinese box and chopsticks onto the island table where we sit, then turns to face me on his bar stool.

“So, where is the problem? He’s volunteering at the hospital, so he must live close by. Does he not want a Dom?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I thought he might have wanted… more. But then I heard him talking about going home over the New Year, to Scotland.”

“I think I get it now. So he’s moving back home and you want more than just getting your rocks off with a kinky sub?”

“Well, I don’t think he’s moving home. Just home for a while over the holidays. But it doesn’t matter. It would never go anywhere if he does eventually decide to move home.”

Arnie scoffs at me, placing his beer bottle on the mat provided. Then he smacks my arm, shaking his head.

“Simmons. Did you ask him if he was moving home?”

“Well, no. But he’s young; he can work from anywhere in the world. Why would he stay here?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose as he wraps his head around my predicament.

“Simmons. How are you smart enough to be a college professor but not smart enough to communicate with the guy you clearly want to date?”

I scowl at him, but he has a point.

“Tell him you want to meet him before he flies out. Get him to clarify his intentions. If you really like him, which it seems you do, then get your phone and ask him to meet you.”

The back of my neck goes red with embarrassment as I know what I will say next might have Arnie hitting me somewhere that’s more painful.

“Uh, well, I don’t think he’ll want to talk to me.”