Nick sat on the edge of the bed that he had sometimes shared with his wife over the past 10 years. His gold wedding band felt heavy on his fingertips. The filtered sunlight coming through the curtained window seemed to shine directly on the engraving he remembered special ordering so long ago. Love you forever. His parents had told him to wait. Why did he want to get married so young? He didn’t really understand then why he wanted to get married. He was 19. He thought he was in love. This was the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with and maybe raise a family. Then they started planning for their wedding. Nick could pinpoint the day he fell out of love with his wife. May 19th. Zak and Nick’s first unofficial date. Nick had called him on the premise that he wanted to discuss the music for the wedding, as Zak was deejaying for them. When Zak got to the small restaurant, Nick had admitted that he didn’t call him to talk about music. He spent that night and the next at Zak’s apartment. Continue reading
Zak looked through the haze at the man standing in front of him. Nick. He smiled, pulling him in closer. The smell was wrong. He wrinkled his face, running his hands up this stranger’s chest. “You’re not Nick.”
The stranger shook his head, but smiled. “I can be tonight.”
Zak pushed him away. No, he’s not Nick. He’s not good enough. Where was Aaron? Aaron would understand. He always understood. “Aaron?”
The stranger came closer again. “He’s busy.” Insistent hands pulled at his waist, fingertips dancing under his shirt, touching his skin. Zak’s heartbeat faster as he scanned the crowd over the stranger’s shoulder. Continue reading
Zak sat across from Nick at the small hotel bar, Nick’s cell phone in his hand. He had no words to explain the picture in front of him. There was nothing he could say. I’m sorry even seemed cliché. “Did you sleep with him too, Zak?” Nick asked, his words full of pain.
Zak shook his head. “No.” That was the one solace he had. It had just been a kiss. A very poorly timed, public, kiss. “Who sent this to you?”
“That doesn’t matter.” Continue reading
JC was throwing shirts and pants in his suitcase when Justin walked into the room, cursing himself every time he missed. “C..,” Justin started.
JC stopped midmotion and his shoulders slumped. “Justin don’t, please. Just don’t.”
There’s no one quite as blind
As a victim of the game