Page 10 of Tangled Up In You
Hunter:You don’t know what I feel. Honestly, the more I talked to you on the phone, the more I knew how right you were to leave. We’ve had an amazing friendship, but it’s time to go our separate ways.
It was hard to text him back with how much my hands were trembling.
Me:U don’t even want us talking anymore????? Ur my best friend.
Me:Hunt??? Don’t shut me out like this.
Me:Please.
When two hours passed and he still hadn’t replied, I sent another.
Me:I love u, Hunt. Please don’t do this.
But he didn’t respond. Not that day. Not the next one. I sent him several more texts—some lashing out at him for being so mean and others begging him to reconsider—and they all went ignored. As days turned into weeks and I still hadn’t heard back from him, I realized we were really over.
Funny enough…life went on.
***
I started hanging out with the guys on the football team, and we’d go out some nights and see the California night life. Most of them were from out of state too, so it was a new experience for all of us. We went to restaurants hardly any of us could afford and we’d even snuck into some clubs. They became my friends.
Hunter crossed my mind a lot in the beginning.
Even after months with no communication, I found myself remembering the smell of his skin when we’d been lying under the sun after swimming in the lake. I recalled the musical sound of his laugh and the way he used to fit so perfectly against my chest.
They were memories I was desperate to hold on to, but as time went on, I found it harder and harder to remember some of them.
I’d look at the pictures of Hunter on my phone when I couldn’t remember if the freckle on his neck was on the right or left side. Just those small things that I’d obsess over and make myself sick over if I forgot.
Crazy how he really did become just a picture on my phone…just like he’d said.
I kept in touch with my grandpa—calling him at least twice a week—and after a while I stopped asking about Hunter. I didn’t see the point anymore in asking him what Hunter was doing, and if Gramps had recently talked to him.
Football became my life.
I pushed myself to my limits and past them; sometimes just so I could have something else to focus on other than the pain of a broken heart. But even after my heart began to mend, I didn’t back down. I hadn’t moved so many miles from home just to slack off. I spent most of my spare time in the gym, making myself stronger. Faster.
Coaches admired my fortitude, and I worked my ass off to get where I wanted to be. I showed them how much I wanted it.
My first year of college passed in a blur between classes and football games, and when the second year came around, I was in the best shape of my life. I was the starting quarterback—not exactly a common thing for a sophomore—and everything was falling into place just like I’d always hoped it would.
I even started dating again.
It was difficult for a while. If I even thought about being with someone else, I’d feel like I was betraying Hunter. Then, I had to remind myself that he was the one who dumpedme, and that he’d probably already moved on.
No sense in saving myself for someone who didn’t even give a shit. He’d made that clear when he refused to return any of my texts.
Not ever having been with anyone other than Hunter, I was struggling a bit with my sexuality and had tried dating a few girls at first. However, it didn’t take long to figure it all out. The second girl I’d tried dating—well, fucking—had cleared it all up.
“Mmm, yeah, baby,” she had moaned as I’d been on top of her in my dorm room. I’d been in my boxers, and she was topless with just her panties on. She slid my boxers down and grabbed my dick, slowly stroking me. “You’re so thick.”
Yeah, it’d felt good, but my head wasn’t in it.
Her body was too soft; her pleasured sighs too breathy. I missed the feel of a hard body beneath mine; stronger arms to match my own and a slightly prickled chin.
Fuck it all. I missed Hunter.
“I can’t do this,” I’d said before getting off her and pulling my boxers back up. “Sorry.”
