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“Forty minutes,” I hear him call as I take off because he knows me and knows when I’m in this kind of mood I could stay down there until my body gives out. Lord knows I’ve done it before. I jog down the hallway to the elevator to take me to the basement gym.
When I reach it, I press in the code and quickly rush into the room, heading for the treadmill to warm up. I have forty minutes before I need to be upstairs so I set the timer on my phone and push myself onto the treadmill to start.
Ten minutes of running has almost made my forget my earlier horniness, but a flash of his music hits me before my fingers quickly press the skip button and I push myself off from the bike I’m on and onto the rowing machine. Pull- push- pull- push until I hit twelve k.
Next, I tape my fists and take my frustrations out on the punch bag on the hook and I soak in the feelings of satisfaction as my hands hit the bag over and over again. Thump, thwack, smack and the tangy smell of my sweat hits me as I take everything out on the bag. Over and over and over until my alarm breaks the spell and I need to stop.
I hate the fact that I’m still horny, but as I towel off I’m reminded of the time I sucked Huds off in the weight room in here and I kick out at the medicine ball, hurting my toe, but at least it’s distracted me from the memories I don’t want to face, not today at least.
It’s been a year so why the memories are assaulting me today of all days pisses me off and I take my anger out by crunching up the water bottle. The sound of the bottle crunching does nothing to take away the fire in my blood at the memories that are relentlessly pushing against the box they’re stored in and my anger is building more and more.
I tug the gloves off and start to gingerly peel the tape from my knuckles noting as I do that one is slightly split. Beads of sweat roll down my neck and one drops onto my hand, rolling down and stinging the cut a little as the salt mixes with the blood.
It’s enough of a distraction that I manage to get the rest of the tape off without wanting to punch a wall or hit the bag without gloves on. I toss the used ones in the bucket and make my way upstairs, trying to focus on today on set. Katie is going to kill me when she see’s my knuckles, but at least they are better than before.
My mind starts to wander down the dark path of my memories and I stare at myself in the mirror thinking back to how different my life is now. I don’t date. Ever. I can’t. I can’t bring myself to trust anyone after what happened with Hudson. Finding him like that ruined me and although I’ve fucked around a bit and slept with a few guys, it’s not been anything serious. In fact I doubt I’ll ever let myself get that serious with anyone ever again.
I make my way into the bathroom and debate calling Colton for a quick blow job but then I remember how he looked at me the last time and I decide my hand will suffice, plus fucking his mouth while I’m thinking of Hudson is a surefire way to fuck up the casual thing we had going on. Plus, it’s been a few months since I last had him over, so I nix that idea.
I stroll past Greg and he glances at me shaking his head before marching over and grabbing my hand.
“Fucking hell. You’re on set today. What happened?”
His eyes find mine and I smirk at him as he examines my face then grimaces when he sees the barely concealed pain I’m fighting to mask.
“Had a stupid bastarding dream and now I can’t get his face out of my head. Why is my head bringing these memories back today of all days? Why can’t they just let me be? Why do I have to remember the absolute agony of walking in and seeing that today? Haven’t I suffered enough?”
“Stop. You’re spiraling again. You heard that interview yesterday didn’t you?”
I want to shake my head and deny it, but he talked about meeting the love of his life when he was at school and how he messed up and even though I was pretending to be asleep I wasn’t because his voice woke me up.
“I knew you were listening. I should have made Don turn the radio off.”
Greg grips my shoulders and turns me to face him, watching my eyes for signs of the anguish that I’m fighting against.
“Look Landon, he knows he fucked up but you need to let him go. It’s wrecking you. You can’t hold down a relationship and throwing yourself into work, booze and the guys you’re dating is destroying you inside.”
My spine stiffens as I watch my best friend tell me that I’m fucked up inside. I know that. I don’t need him reminding me.
“I think I already know I’m messed up. I don’t need reminded.”
He rolls his eyes at me and the anger sparks to life inside me as the words I’ve never said pour out of me.
“You know what the worst of it is? There was no closure. Nothing. He was just gone from my life. Yeah I left first, but who could blame me when I walk into to see that fucking creep fucking him on our bed?”
My voice gets louder and my body vibrates with the need to hit something or someone.
“Do you know I went back to see him? How pathetic am I? He cheats on me and I go crawling back.”
“What? When did you…?”
I break him off, not in the mood for his lecture or his sympathy. I knew how fucking pathetic I was.
“Three weeks. I waited three weeks, but then I needed to talk to him because I fucking missed him. I miss him. Why do I miss him? How can I not get over him? It’s not fair and I have to be on set and my heads wrecked and I want to hate him. Why can’t I hate him?”
I shrug, throwing my hands up in the air before I spin and storm into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and tearing my clothes off. I put the water as hot as I can stand and step inside, fury racing through me. Greg wasn’t supposed to know that I went back and saw the red wine stain on the cream carpet in the room we so carefully picked.
I grab my cock, almost painfully tugging myself off to distract myself and when I come a few minutes later, Greg bangs on the door telling me to move my ass because I need to get to set. My breath comes in stutters as I spray the wall to clean the come from the tiles and watch my orgasm melt away and fall down the drain.
