Page 31 of For a Goode Time Call…
Charlie was laughing. “Whoa, Cassie, babe. Youlikehim, like him.”
“Yes. I do. Who he is as a person is so…different, and somuchthat I’ve had to stop and think about how I feel about him physically. And that’s complicated.”
“Why is it complicated?”
“Because I think he’s got some kind of hang-up.”
“Everyone has hang-ups, Cass.”
“But he’s so confident, so comfortable in who he is. I can’t figure out what he could be hung up about.”
“So ask him. Get to know him and figure it out, and get past it with him.”
“Sounds simple, but you don’t know him. I’m not even sure how to start that conversation. He has this way of making me think about myself and making me face my own shit. But I don’t think anyone ever really makes him face his shit. And that’s why he’s so complicated and internal. Because he’s wise and insightful and seems to be so content in who he is that no one sees that he has his own insecurities.”
“Like I said, everyone has insecurities. If they don’t, they’re narcissistic and arrogant.”
“So what’s your hang-up?”
“Oh my, I’m really complicated, Cass. Daddy issues up the wazoo.” A yawn. “I’m going to go back to sleep. Go talk to your big fella, Cass.”
“I will.” I yawned, then. “Damn you, you gave me your yawn.”
“Ha-ha.”
“Go see Poppy.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up. You didn’t listen to Mom about Glen, and look how that turned out. Listen to her now, Charlie.”
“God, you’re as annoying as she is.”
“I know. It’s just because we love you.”
“Love you too, Cass. Bye.”
I tucked the phone back into my purse, and finished folding my clothes.
Talk to him.
Figure it out, with him.
With him.
Did I want that? I’d only known him a very short time, but he was stuck in my head. Of course, so was Rick, and dance. But Rick was done, now. I knew the truth, and while it hurt, I knew I was good to move on, for real this time. He was messed up, and selfish, and I’d been blind and probably a little desperate for attention. I mean, that was my inheritance from Dad. All of us girls had something, and mine was being desperate for attention. It’s part of my love for dance—I love the state, the attention, the lights. I also just love dance, moving my body, being strong and graceful and powerful and elegant, I love the movement. But I also just love being seen on the stage. But the attention thing goes deeper. I need male attention because Daddy wasn’t there enough. Cliché, much? Shit, I know it is. But it’s true. And I was willing to blindly accept whatever Rick was offering because he was paying attention, sort of.
Ugh.
Am I falling into the same trap with Ink? Am I just attracted to him because he paid a little attention to me? Is he going to reveal some killer flaw, too? I mean, he’s just too good to be true, otherwise.
No, it’s not the same. Yes, he paid attention to me, but it was genuine. I’m still not sure what Rick’s motivations were. Maybe he was just trying to figure out if he really did like girls, boys, or both, and really just didn’t know how to face the confusion. I don’t know, and I do have sympathy for what must have been difficult. I just think, regardless, he should’ve been honest with me, even if it meant breaking up with me. Not telling me what he was really going through, not having the courage to tell me the truth was lying, plain and simple, dammit.
What about Ink?
I groaned, bending over the dryer with my head in my hands.
I almost wished I’d fallen into the water. I’m too fucked up as a person to know how to navigate this. Like, I really, really don’t know how to handle the fact that I’m catching feelings for Ink.
