I finish my beer and ask for a vodka soda next. I should probably stick to my plan and head back to my room. But what I should do and what I want to do are two different things.Even if I go to my room right now, I doubt I’ll be able to catch a wink of sleep. Not with the image of him and that girl burned into my mind.I finish my drink and ask for another one. I have a different plan. Get drunk enough that when I go to bed, I’ll collapse on the mattress and not wake up until morning.Or get drunk and have enough courage to go and ask him what the fuck he is doing without giving a shit whether he thinks I’m being clingy or not.I remember that day on my house’s front porch, when Jared said I claim to want something real but always end up with coldhearted players.Maybe what he really meant to say was that I was the reason it always ends up like that. Because it’s true, isn't it? I wouldn’t be hurt by bad boys and players if I didn’t let them, would I?For eight months, I was perfectly

“Isaac? Wake up.”I groan and press my face into the pillow, ignoring Jared’s wake up call. Just five more minutes…“You have seven missed calls. Two from Terry and five from him.”I sit up so fast that my head spins for a moment. Then I look around dazed, seeking my phone. Jared shoves it in my hand. My stomach sinks as I check the call log. He is right. I have two missed calls from Terry and five from Ben. I look at the time. Six twenty two. Fuck. We were supposed to be on the road by five thirty. I don’t think I have a job anymore. There’s also a bunch of messages, all from Ben.‘Where are you?’‘We are leaving in twenty.’‘Did you quit?’‘Seriously, Isaac. The bus is gonna leave without you.’‘Terry’s mad. Call me.’‘We just left.’‘Is this because of the other night? Let’s talk. You don’t have to quit. I’m sorry for being an asshole. Answer my calls, please.’An incoming call from Ben takes over the screen. My phone is on silent mode, no wonder I missed that many calls. I clim

It’s really over. After sending Ben that message, I allowed myself to fantasise about us forgetting all the shit that has happened and getting back on the right track.I didn’t for a second think he wouldn’t respond to my text. Or act like he never got one. But since it’s two days after the night I sent the text, it’s safe to assume he is never giving me a response. I guess I deserve that.I should probably take this as a second chance to make a clean break from tumultuous relationships. This time round, I won’t break my rules. Not for anybody. I wish it was as easy to do as it is to say, but I don’t really have a choice. Well, I do–to say to hell with everything and go with the flow. To stop having ideas of a fairytale that probably doesn’t exist. To get rid of all my expectations and take what I get. All that would be easy if I wasn’t a sensitive idiot. It would be far easier if I wasn’t about to get stuck on the tour bus for two consecutive nights with him. We have stayed at a h

I stumble back, my body colliding with the door behind me. For a few moments, I’m frozen, my mind taking its time to register what’s happening.While my mind struggles to make sense of things, my body goes off on its own. My lips part under his and my hands latch onto his forearms. His lips pry mine insistently. A moan slips past mine as I let him in completely, holding back nothing. It’s just a kiss. A kiss I’ve been dying to get. I can allow this much before the reality of the situation glares in my face. We’ve been here before, and I don’t want to be burned again. So I’m just going to take this kiss, nothing more.I move my hand from his arm to his waist, gripping him tight. Our bodies press together, top to bottom. He thrusts his hips forward, and his covered erection grinds over my own. The jolt of pleasure that travels throughout my body elicits another moan from my lips. My other hand finds its way to the back of his neck, where it grips tight as I deepen our kiss. Heavens, I

“What are you doing? No…stop–” my plea dies in my throat as I bring my teeth down on my lip to keep a moan from escaping.“You want me to stop?” he asks, his voice in my ear, his palm rubbing up and down my crotch. I’m getting hard, I’m craving his touch, but I know it’s wrong. I shouldn’t want this.“Huh?” he asks, his fingers now moving to my button, popping it open, then working on my zipper. “Should I stop now?”Yes. Stop.But instead of saying those words, my fingers dig into his blond hair, pulling him closer. He chuckles against my neck, and then he is sucking on my skin.I hear their voices.“Please…” Stop, they’ll see. We shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t want to hurt him. All are words I want to say, but all that comes from my mouth is his name. “Jared.”It doesn’t sound like a warning. It sounds like a wanton plea to touch me more. And he does. And then they are there, and I’m suddenly tangled in sheets…his sheets, in his room back at home… He is holding me in his arms, mov