Page 20 of Strange Lad
“Phoenix,” I blurt. He glances at me. “Can I have a hug?”
A tiny crack of a smile forms. “Yeah. Of course.”
Oh, thankGod.
I leap up from the shitty chair I’ve been sitting on and throw myself at him. It feels amazing to have a hug. I’d kill for some cuddles, but this will do. Phoenix’s arms band around my middle while I fold in half over him, my eyes fluttering shut. I can’t lose this. Hugs mean he cares. Hugs mean I’m doing good even though I know I’m not.
When I linger for too long, Eli clearing his throat in warning, I peel myself out of Phoenix’s embrace, and brush at my eyes quickly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Phoenix asks, worry trickling into his features.
I sniffle. “Just needed that. It’s been a while.”
Quickly kissing Eli’s cheek, Phoenix stands this time, giving me a hug that soothes and rips me in half. But I cling to him regardless, my heart thudding in panic. I need this as reassurance that I’m just projecting, overly emotional, seeing things that aren’t there. I need the touch of another human, too. Need that warmth. And lately, it’s been horribly inaccessible.
So I soak up as much of this as possible, knowing these hugs will be few and far between now that Eli is here. I’m happy for them, but where the fuck does that leave me?
I’m the guy that makes everyone else feel better.
The guy who comes swooping to the rescue when there are problems afoot. I’m the guy that lifts you so high that you forget I’m still stuck at the bottom.
I guess being lonely is part of the job.
Maybe I should get a dog.
Phoenix and Eli are getting one at some point. They’re just waiting for a Great Dane to show up in a shelter. A dog would cuddle me.
I flip onto my side, tucking my body pillow between my legs. Sometimes, I miss having a girlfriend oranyonesharing a bed with me. That’s one of the biggest reasons I did so well on this past tour. Phoenix let me spoon him every night. Well, the ones where he’d actually go to bed at a decent hour and wasn’t having phone sex in the hotel bathroom towards the end.
My abuela used to cuddle me all the time. If we weren’t snuggled up on the couch or in bed together, she’d hold my hand. Always touching. She told me almost every day that I was her favorite grandchild. That I was herbebe.
People thought it was weird, but I didn’t give a fuck. Something about it was so soothing to me as a child because my mom could be so cold. I miss my abuela so damn much.
Great, now I’m going to cry.
“Damnit,” I growl, stuffing my face in my pillow, a sad whimper escaping.
Deciding it’s best to stop this train of thought before it leaves the station, I think about something else. Else, meaning Oli. It’s always him I end up thinking about.
Is he okay? Does he ever get lonely at night like me? I wouldn’t think so because he seems perfectly fine flying solo through the world, but that can’t always be the case, right? We told each other we missed one another the whole time I was gone.
It was daily.
Whenever he has to work, I usually fart around at home with my YouTube or vocal exercises until he gets off, and then I rush over to his place so we can play Magic or watch movies. Just being around him is enjoyable.
I think about the beach—how he just shut down on me and how he’d zoned out.
I caught him staring at that couple. Almost longingly, in fact.
Shit, is he even dating? Is he seeing someone on the down-low, and I’ve been taking his time away from them? The thought kind of stings.
Well, now I have to know.
I slap behind me to find my phone, ripping it off the charger and bringing the screen to my nose. It’s 11:36 pm. He’s probably asleep. Does that stop me? Absolutely not.
Are you dating anyone?
And sent.
