13

I spent the entire weekend wondering what happened to the poor bastards the Kingfishers had interrogated at the lake and whether my meddling with football politics by instigating a face-off between Lordee and Ryan would change the pact between me and my fuckbuddy. I had his number, and absolutely nothing was stopping me from texting him. But I also knew it was risky. Texting would lead to obsessing, and obsessing would lead to complications, and complications would lead to..well, the end.

Was I mad at him? Was that incident a wake-up call I desperately needed to remind me that we were worlds apart? That we were so different to become a thing even if we wanted to? He was still a budding teenager, taking small baby steps towards becoming a full-fledged man and there was simply a whole shitload of questions I didn't want to deal with. No. I was counting my days, clinging by a thin thread of hope that before the weekend would be over, distance and time would wash away the fog of lust and