His words set a thirty-pound weight of guilt in my gut. And no way I can tell them the real reason I’m not considering the move. Or rather, why I’m only considering it a little.
After Axelle and Clifford’s little PDA last week, I started to wonder if maybe some space wouldn’t be good for us. I even followed Cam’s instructions and went straight from school that day to apply for a passport, paying extra for expedited service. I’ve heard absence makes the heart grow fonder. If that’s true, maybe a little absence is exactly what Axelle needs. I, on the other hand, can’t stand to get any fonder than I already am. My guess is the next step of infatuation for me comes with a high-powered telescope, her dirty underwear, and a secret entrance to her bedroom.
The Velcro from Wade’s glove being ripped off calls my attention. “When do you guys leave?”
My gaze darts to Rex, who is looking on expectantly.
“Leave for England?” I’m stalling. Not my proudest moment.
“No, leave for Dubai.” Wade tosses his glove at my head. “Yes, England, jackass.”
“Cam’s giving me some time, so I don’t know.”
Wade’s eyes narrow. “Time for what?”
Rex interrupts. “Killer hasn’t decided if he’s gonna take the UK gig yet.”
Wade’s eyes dart to mine, and his jaw falls loose on its hinges. “Are you insane? Of course you’re taking it!”
I shrug and pull off my gloves. “Yeah, I most likely will, but I’m still trying to weigh the ramifications of leaving school for a year.”
“Ramifi—no! There are zero ramifications.” He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a freak of science. “Why wouldn’t you go?”
Because I’m in love with my best friend, and if I leave, she might find the guy of her dreams, and I want to be that guy, so I can’t fucking go!
“School.” School. That’s my answer. I’m an idiot.
“Fuck school, man! It’ll always be there, but you only have this window of opportunity open now.”
“He’s right,” Rex mumbles.
“It’s one year. That’s like a fart in time, my friend. You’ll never miss it. But you will absolutely miss it when you don’t get this kind of offer again and you’re stuck in small-ticket fights that pay piss-all because you missed out on your chance to do something awesome.”
“You’re probably right. I just…needed to think about it.”
“The fact that you even have to think is worrisome.” Wade follows us into the weight room.
“I’ll probably go.”
“Where are we going?” Mason says from his position at the squat rack.
Wade points at me from over his shoulder. “Boy genius here is considering passing up the UK.”
The surfer-looking fighter sets his eyes on mine. “Don’t be stupid, Kill. It’s only a year.”
Only a year.
365 days away from Axelle.
I can do that.
Can’t I?
*
Axelle
When I first started hanging out at Clifford’s place, I didn’t know what GTA5 was. After sitting in his living room for more hours than I can count over the last couple months, I’ve learned it’s a video game where men get to pretend they’re bigger and badder than they really are. They get to role-play the things they’d never have the balls to do in real life.
It’s basically a playground for pussies.
“Dude, a hitchhiker.” John, Clifford’s roommate and all around loser friend, points to the screen. “You gonna pick him up?”
“Yep.” Clifford laughs and jimmies his joystick, or controller, whatever they’re called. “Then I’m gonna drive him up to the mountains and feed him to the coyotes.”
Doesn’t say much about society that we now have games that allow him to do just that.
I’m bored and repulsed and need a distraction.
“You guys hungry?” It’s after nine and I haven’t eaten dinner.
When I got here, Clifford dragged me back to his room with his mouth all over mine. He insisted I put my piercing to use. John came home seconds after we finished and roped Clifford into playing video games, leaving me alone and unsatisfied in his bed.
I shook off the whispers of desire I’d felt when he was telling me how beautiful I was, how talented my mouth is, and how much he enjoyed me. I know it’s not love he feels for me, but it’s something, and like a drug, I’m addicted to it. When my mouth is on him, or he’s inside me, I feel wanted. After years of feeling unwanted, I desperately cling to that feeling of being wanted when we’re together.
“I’m starving.” John clicks the remote, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth in concentration.
“Yeah, why don’t you go grab us some food?” Clifford doesn’t even look at me when he says it, his gaze firmly planted on the big flat-screen.
Better to be useful than to warm this damn chair. I get up and grab my keys. “What do you guys want?”
“Tacos.”
“Pizza.”
They say it simultaneously, and rather than try to decipher which one to grab, I decide hitting two different places means killing more time and hit two drive-thrus instead of one.
Thirty minutes later I push through the front door, balancing a pizza box and a bag of tacos in my hand.
“Food’s here,” Clifford’s voice sounds from the living room followed by two more that are distinctly female.