Page 126 of Trading Paint
“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m buying a ticket,” Jameson said with a hint of finality.
“No, you’re not.”
“I need to meet this guy of yours.”
“He’s not my guy!” I stressed. This was getting out of hand.
“Whatever.” Jameson huffed like a child.
“You’re being irrational.”
“I’m mad.”
Jameson was being petty and angry with me for the rest of the phone call, groaning about how I “deceitfully kept information from him because I knew he would be upset”. I could only roll my eyes at his assumptions. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but Jameson was blowing this whole thing out of proportion.
By the time we ended the phone call, I was laughing at how childish he was being, he was in a better mood but was still muttering something under his breath about killing Blake.
I finally came to the conclusion that I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up in Bellingham but it was comforting to know that he really didn’t have the time.
For Blake’s safety, I warned him to avoid Jameson just in case.
Bladder – Jameson
This wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for her besides friends. That didn’t bother me as much as the fact that I fell so seamlessly that I hadn’t even realized it.
Now I was ready to fly to Bellingham to meet this Blake jerk. Hearing her acknowledge the fact that she knew I slept around, was even worse. I’m sure she didn’t hear it over the phone line, but I gasped when she said it out loud.
I thought I had been discreet, but I wasn’t. It wasn’t hard to figure out. People knew when I’d disappear and wouldn’t see me for hours. I hated myself for it.
Mostly, I hated the image that it had created of me to her. I never wanted Sway to think of me as someone like Dylan Grady when in all actuality, I was behaving just like he had. It was repulsive and was just one more reminder that she deserved so much better than someone like me. What kind of relationship could I even provide for her?
Sitting on the couch in my underwear on the only free morning I had for the next two months as I headed into the last few races of the season, I drank whiskey from the bottle as I watched the sun rise over the track Spencer and I built in the backyard of my parents’ Mooresville home.
It had been three hours since I woke up and I was thinking about calling Sway to apologize for the way I acted last night. I was gripping the phone so hard that I thought it was going to shatter in my hand.
I laboriously took another drink of whiskey that I wasn’t even feeling and thought about how fucked up this all was. Why do I have to feel this way? The longer I thought about it, the more I wondered why the hell she was affecting me this way.
The reason I was so pissed was because I never expected this.
I was supposed to be a hardcore racer who only thought about the next race but now, my best friend was slowly captivating my every thought. She was becoming an obsession and I didn’t know at what point it became more than lust but my body wasn’t matching up with my brain...or was it my heart?
“Stop being a pussy.” I ran my hand over my eyes and sat the bottle down on the glass table in front of me.
It wasn’t even the fact that I felt something more. Something in me had changed, that was for certain but I didn’t know what. Something in me was calling to Sway and had been for years and it was making me want to just spend time with her like some...boyfriend.
I cringed at the word.
Boyfriend implied more than I was ready to deal with. For one reason, I wasn’t in any position to give Sway a normal relationship even if I wanted to. The only problem was that I didn’t want her to be out there with some other guy.
She was mine.
I had never been so possessive over a woman in my life and I couldn’t stand it. Sway was mine and there was nothing I could do about it. No matter how hard I fought, she pulled me in.
What Sway and I had couldn’t even be defined. I thought about her constantly, which scared the living hell out of me.
We spent time together, we kissed on occasion and we messed around. I took her out to dinner; I held her hand.
What did the word boyfriend mean anyway?
