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What am I doing to him and to myself? Matthew and I should stop fucking around, but my stomach drops with the thought of losing my friend if we stop our other activities.
I have a light buzz going through my head but nothing major. Maybe I shouldn’t think much about my future. After getting dressed, I make my way outside to look for Matthew.
“You sober up?” I spin around to find him staring at me with arms crossed and a worried look. “What’s going on with you? You disappeared from the face of the earth for almost a week and when I see you again, you’re wasted. Is it your parents again?”
My head drops.
“This isn’t any of my business, but maybe you should seek professional help.” He points at a trash bag filled with empty bottles. “You drank the entire supply of beers.”
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes while fighting to settle the plethora of emotions that are shaking my mind and soul.
Fuck, what have I been doing… thinking?
“Tristan?” His concern invites me to unload my entire week, but as I release each word, I conclude that this—us—has to come to an end.
We’re friends, friends that have a great time in and out of bed. My issue is that he’s a man, and sooner or later, I’ll break if we continue… what we have. If only I could break every single chain my parents placed on me and find a way to let myself be happy.
“I think we should stop what’s happening between us,” I blurt.
Yes, what I say is the opposite of breaking the parental grasp.
Fuck.
“I can’t… we can’t continue this, Matt. It’s been weeks since it started. Pretending is killing us both. This is hurting you as much as it hurts me, and I hate myself for that… for giving you some unnecessary pain because you’re not being truthful to yourself.”
The weight on my back increases with those words. I don’t feel any lighter than I did when I thought about cutting “the benefits” of our friendship.
“That’s for the better,” he says in a low voice. His crystal-blue eyes don’t change, and it’s as if he doesn’t give a shit. “You’re right. I can’t continue hiding either.” He places a hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze. “Look, things between us will never work out, but we can remain friends, don’t you think?”
“I guess.” I act casually. Although the physical shit is important, I care more about my friend. I could feel my body beginning to relax, and I needed that. The knowledge that no matter what, I still have my friend.
“As if I can shake you off, Decker. You’re hard to get rid of,” I state, instead of telling him that I’ve learned to care for him, and it’d kill me if I lost my only best friend in years. “Glad we’re not an item, or this would be considered a breakup.”
Neither one of us says a word, but we both laugh. The sound erases that buzz I carried and the guilt of having to sneak around. Yes, this was the best solution for both.
“I’m here to listen, dude.” Matthew pats me on the back, taking me into his arms. He gives me a quick kiss. “I will miss fucking you, but I’d rather see you sober.”
One good thing came out of all the shit I’ve been through in the past months. Matt. I’m going to miss fucking around with him, more than he could know. The words I read a few months ago come back to me:
You’re not alone.
Today I believe them. I have a friend, but when will I be able to fall in love?
ChapterTwenty
Thea
The screechingsound coming out of the speakers is deafening. I wish I could escape, but I’m too busy preparing drinks. The music continues as the singer is about to finish destroying Green Day’s “Walking Contradiction.”
“… and I ain’t got no right.”The off-key, tone-deaf dude ends the song.
“Thank you, everyone.” The clueless front man looks around. “We’re Monopoly, a walking contradiction—like you.”
Some giddy women from the audience holler at him, others start clapping, and suddenly they’re asking for an encore and falling for the damaged rock stars.
The kids aren’t damaged—they should be thankful for that—or rock stars.
I can show them what a real walking contradiction looks and acts like.
