Page 51 of Catching Kyle
Icheckmyphonefirst thing in the morning for a text from Kyle.
Still nothing.
My stomach in knots, I decide the best thing to calm my frayed nerves is a solid workout. Without even sleeping in, I throw on some scrappy clothes and head straight to the gym.
When I get there, I claim a bench press and get myself set up. I’m not usually here this early, so I notice some faces here I haven’t seen before. There are a couple guys I’ve seen around the gay district, and there’s even some from the rugby team. Luckily no one I feel obligated enough to greet.
I start lifting, and it feels good, having my mind focused on exertion. But the second I’m resting, my mind races again. Has Kyle gone back into the closet? Erased our relationship from his mind so there’s no reminders of who he is? Or is he going on a bender now, having as much gay sex as he can?
I pull out my phone and go to the most popular gay hookup app here in Portland. I hardly go on here anymore—too stressful to manage—but I want to see if Kyle is on here at all.
I scan through the squares. Couple of the guys closest to me I recognize here. I go down further to see guys further out toward the suburbs, where Kyle would be. I see torsos and some ‘not gay but will fuck’ type profiles, which is crazy that these exist in Portland, but no Kyle.
My timer goes off, and it’s time to go for my bench press PR. I scroll back up on the top, and that’s when a familiar face catches my eye.
David.
My stomach curdles, and I feel all the strength leave my body. Of course he’s on here. Did he and Steven already break up? Or is Steven just unaware?
I delete the app and lay down on the bench. I wrap my hands around the barbell and sigh.
I’ve been through this. I don’t need to be thrown off by David anymore. Just like my sponsor said, he has nothing to offer me. I’m better than this. I’m not settling for him or any other emotionally unavailable guy. And I’m not cursed to keep falling for them either.
I take a deep breath again, and then I push the barbell off its hooks. I hold 265 pounds above me, and then I lower it to my chest. I keep it there for just a moment, and then I use all my strength to thrust it back up.
I’m wonderful just the way I am. I have the beginnings of a wonderful writing group, and I’m finding so much joy in this weekly book club. I may not have a job, and I may not know about Kyle, but I don’t need those things to be happy. That will all work itself out.
Before I know it, the barbell is back up in the air, and I set it back down in its hooks with more ease than I thought myself capable. I let out a satisfying breath.
I’m tempted to look at my phone to see if Kyle’s texted, but I know I don’t need to. Whatever he does, I’ll be okay. I am enough without him.
I go through the rest of my workout, not even bothering to check my phone except to occasionally pause the audiobook I’m listening to. I’m on the third book of theWheel of Time, and I’m loving it. Fantasy is starting to feel like my thing, even if I’m just reading it right now. I can’t wait until I get to writing.
By the time I’m finished, I finally do check my messages. Still nothing. I guess I can assume that whatever Kyle’s chosen, he doesn’t want me in it.
When I get home, I go to my dresser to grab some clothes. I come across the T-shirt and sweatpants Kyle gave me when I got rained out the first day I methim. That was crazy—showing up at the home of the Sexiest Man Alive. And then getting to know him. Flirting with him.Kissing him.
I shake my head and adjust my stance, already halfway hard. At the very least, I had a cool experience. Now that I’m not seeing him anymore, maybe I can finally tell Amani all that happened.
I close the drawer and spot next week’s books on my dresser: a debut author who’s coming to give her talk at Rucker’s in a couple weeks.
Even though Kyle’s ghosted me, he still did pay for this book. And I have no need for a second one. I may as well just go there today at our designated time and drop it off. Along with his clothes. It was fun while it lasted, but I don’t want any reminders of him. It’s all too bizarre to hold on to.
By the time I shower and eat breakfast, it’s time for me to meet Kyle. If our meetups are still happening. I’ll just set the stuff on his doorstep and be out of his hair. Then I can finally focus on myself: finding a job, writing my new novel, and hopefully getting another guy who is actually emotionally available. I’m done chasing guys who don’t want me back.
On the way there, I take the time to drive slowly through his neighborhood, admiring all these houses one last time. These are definitely sights I’m going to miss.
When I pull into driveway, there’s a pristine Cadillac sitting squarely in the middle. The garage door is open and empty, so it must be Kyle’s. I’ve just never seen his car before.
Or it could be his date’s, either a guy or girl. My stomach rolls at the thought.
“It’s okay, Michael,” I say out loud. “Kyle isn’t yours, and you aren’t his.”
Sheepishly, I park to the side, out of the Cadillac’s way—which I can do because his driveway is big enough—and get out of the car, his clothes and book in tow.
That’s when Kyle’s front door opens, and my heart skips a beat. This could be some other guy—or girl. Or Kyle himself.
I want to run and hide, but there’s nowhere for me to go. I’m standing right in the center of his driveway.
