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“Yeah, I’m done. Definitely goes under the idea that no matter how beautiful and everything you think a model is on the front of a magazine, someone, somewhere is tired of her shit.I’mtired and done with her shit, so yes, IENDtexted her—as you say, I Jaked theEND.” His tone was a twisted combination of frustration and regret.
Dwayne glanced out the window and saw Rakell sitting on the bench outside the gym, head bent, like she was crying. He felt Jake slow the truck as he caught her in his gaze.
Jake could see she was crying, thinking maybe he’d sentENDtoo soon. He still had feelings, and he knew they weren’t going away, but he also knew he couldn’t keep doing this, this thing they kept going back to...
“I feel bad for her,” Dwayne finally said as they drove past.
“Keep it to yourself,” Jake said. “Your energies are better spent planning a night out. I’m ready for that smorgasbord.” He was trying to sound fun, not letting the guilt stop him.
“But there’s no bacon, Dude,” Dwayne said, matching his friend’s tone.
“Bacon’s no good for you, causes heart problems…ready for something sweet, honeydew melon, something like that,” he said, forcing a laugh.
“But bacon is oh, so tasty…I don’t think you’re gonna be able to resist bacon for long, my friend...” Dwayne countered.
Jake didn’t hide his consternation. “Is this your way of telling me that all this heartache is worth it? That I should put up with my heart getting banged around?”
Dwayne just gave him thewho you kiddin’eye.
Jake pinned him with a fierce look. “Don’t. Don’t go around me on this, I’m fucking done, as in,ENDtext, and you know what that means from me.”
“Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?” Dwayne shot back.
“Don’t.”
“I guess this means I get my wingman back,” Dwayne blurted out.
“Fucking main man, you’re the wingman, don’t forget it either, or next year there’ll be a different Super Bowl MVP,” Jake chortled, sounding contrived even to his own ears.
“Wingman it is. Thursday night, Group Therapy?”
“Yep, one of my favorite bars…I’m definitely in,” he said with a settled tone; he was going to move past her.
It was as if he’d punched her in the gut. She squeezed her eyes closed, fighting the urge to break down.Not here, not now.She walked back to her car; her drive to work out had evaporated. She needed to talk to Matt. When she heard his voice on theother end of the call, all the twisted regret burst out of her. She finally managed to quell her tears enough to tell him the story. As she did, her speech slowed until she suddenly became quiet. She was realizing as the sequence of events came out of her mouth that she had really fucked up. Foolishly, she justdidn’tthink he would walk away because he’d hung on for so long. Now she was realizing that she had been wrong.
“Princess?” Matt said.
“Yeah, sorry…just hearing my words makes me think…”
“Maybe you overreacted?” Matt’s tone was compassionate yet somber.
“Yep, and now he won’t even talk to me, I mean, not at all. It’s so unlike him, and I’m afraid. I know you guys always tell me I can get another guy and not to put up with stuff, but I already miss him.” Her voice cracked.
“It’s true you could find someone new in a second, but if he’s the one you want, then you have to let him know you’re sorry and you want to try again,” Matt explained.
“He’s sick of trying with me.”
“Doubt it, Princess. I’ve seen how he looks at you… But he may be tired of constantly chasing you.” Matt waited, knowing that would get her attention.
“Um, do you think that’s how it is?”
“Well, from where I’m sitting, he’s been pursuing you for more than a year, and you keep running away, putting up walls. I mean, I understood it before you left the agency, but now…any guy would throw his hands up no matter how much he cares about you. If chasing you feels like he's running in circles repeatedly, eventually he just gives up.”
She shut her eyes, slowing her breath, processing his words—he was right. “Well then”—her voice grew stronger as she figured out what she needed to do—“I’mdoing the chasing now, so I’ll need a playbook.”
“Not sure I’m the right person to guide you.”
“Not you—Jonathon. That man knows exactly how to snare a man quickly. Remember Denver?” she teased.
