Page 49 of Catch Me (Becoming Us #4)

Roman

“Go away,” I growled.

Til came up beside me and put his hands on his hips. “Tell me why you’re not going.”

“I’m busy. There are so many things I’m working on, and the characters for this game have to get done.”

“You work from home. Bring your tablet and you can do all of this there.”

“This is more than that. I need my paper and . . . pencils.”

He gave me a pointed look, then studied the pad in front of me. “That’s dope. What is it?”

“Some creature they invented for the game, and it’s a pain in the ass to do based off of their shitty descriptions. So, no, I can’t fly halfway across the country to watch a game.”

“You’re scared to face him.”

Shaking my head, I laughed. “If I was scared to face him, I wouldn’t have spent two months begging to face him. That’s the same amount of time we knew each other, so let’s not act like it was some defining point in my life.”

“You haven’t dated,” he pointed out .

Getting to my feet, I walked into my kitchen. My studio in Washington wasn’t as shitty as the one I’d had in Chicago, and I paid for it, which was a good feeling. It was small, but it was all I really needed. Me and my art against the world.

“Why would I date?” I asked as I poured myself another cup of coffee, then added some milk.

He leaned back against the counter. “That’s what people do. You’re out now, so act like it.”

“I’m partially out. Not Facebook official and all that.”

“You’re getting there, though.”

The kind smile on his face was a far cry from his threats to sacrifice me. Well, he still made those, but they weren’t actually hostile anymore. Usually.

“Look,” he went on, “forget about Travis and all of that. We asked you to come because we want you there. You’re our friend, even if you’re an asshole.”

“The other day, your boyfriend said he was going to deep fry my balls.”

“Yeah, well, he’s an asshole too. I still love him. Come on, please.”

“Why are you whining?” Brooks asked from the couch. I’d forgotten he was here. He was in his first semester of law school and always had his nose in a textbook.

“He doesn’t want to come with us to the World Series games,” Til replied.

“So what?”

“Dude, it’s all of the games. When will you ever have this kind of opportunity again?”

“When I make enough money,” I said.

He huffed and reached into his backpack. “Fine, be a bitch. Here’s a plane ticket for the seven AM flight tomorrow that will deposit you in Atlanta. If you show up, cool. If not, fuck you.”

“You bought him a ticket?” Brooks groaned.

“You shouldn’t have given me your card information.”

“I can’t say no to you, baby. Remember?”

“He uses that to his advantage,” I pointed out with a laugh.

“As he should. He knows a good deal when he sees one.”

Brooks got to his feet and stretched. As he came into the kitchen, he yawned .

“You’re not bringing schoolwork, right?” I asked.

He opened his mouth, then shut it when he saw his boyfriend glaring at him. All he did was shrug.

“Pack a bag,” Til demanded.

“No.”

Brooks rolled his eyes. “He said it’s your choice, but what he meant by that is he’ll come here, stick meat hooks through your skin, and drag you out.”

My nose wrinkled. “Maybe I’ll be in a hotel tonight. Look, I’ll think about it, but I don’t really want to go. It’s not that I’m scared or hung up on him. It would just be awkward and I want to leave things as they are.”

“Okay,” Til sighed. “I want to see that game creature when you’re done. It’s cool as fuck.”

“You can see it when the game comes out. I shouldn’t have even let you look.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Brooks nudged him out the door, and when it closed, I took a long drink of my coffee. There was no denying that going to every World Series game would be the experience of a lifetime. If only it wasn’t so complicated.

Was I hung up on Travis? No, but that didn’t mean I wanted to see him, and I couldn’t imagine he’d be happy if I showed up. Allegedly, he told Sen that he didn’t care, but of course he’d say that. This was Travis. Nice, too good for this world Travis.

Besides, I was the one who fucked it up. It seemed right that I shouldn’t come around. I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable or even feel awkward. He deserved to feel completely happy.

I opened up my messages, just as I’d done way too often. Every time, I wondered if there was something I could’ve said that would’ve changed it. It didn’t really matter, but that was how regret worked. Even though I’d accepted it, I might always feel a twinge of that.

Did that make him the one that got away? I just hoped that didn’t mean I’d never find someone else. That was depressing as fuck.

When I started reading the last message, I froze. I assumed that he’d blocked me at a certain point, and none of the messages after he res ponded at the end of January had shown they were read. But they did now.

Had he unblocked me? If so, why? And he’d looked at the texts after doing it.

It didn’t mean anything. He was morbidly curious, and since Sen mentioned me, he probably just couldn’t help himself.

If I went to the games, it wouldn’t be because of him. That was ludicrous. I’d stopped messaging him so that we could both move on and be happy. But, within the last week, we’d both looked at these texts.

No, it was nothing. It was three weeks in the same house and we’d thought it meant something.

The timing was wrong, and even if it wasn’t, we barely knew each other then.

We still didn’t know each other. Not enough for us to make promises during our one night together.

Not enough for him to be so hurt when I left.

Not enough for me to be so hurt when I left.

Not enough for either of us to look at these texts ten months after we’d last seen each other.

Not enough for me to consider getting on a plane, even if nothing came of it, just to look at him and see if his eyes still held mysteries I wanted to unravel. They might hold only coldness or indifference.

Did I want to find out?

I didn’t think I had a choice. And if nothing happened, at least I’d get to watch the World Series. Maybe I’d make one more piece of art and add it to the folder I didn’t let myself open, the one full of him—every single drawing that never captured whatever life dwelled inside of Travis McKinney.

*****

Realistically, it hadn’t been that long since I was in Georgia. As soon as I walked out of the airport, it felt like ages ago. My eyes had gone to the place his Jeep was parked when he picked me up. That day, I’d forced myself not to look at him too closely or talk to him more than necessary.

I’d been a fool, but I was also lost back then. I was still lost. Just not as much.

The first two games were at Truist Park, the Braves’ stadium. I would’ve preferred to start off in Boston. It might feel less personal when we inevitably saw each other. He was having everyone over at his house tonight, and that just didn’t strike me as a good way to kick things off.

I hadn’t actually told anybody that I was coming. To be honest, I hadn’t known until two hours before the flight boarded. For hours, I paced my apartment, biting my nails down to the skin until it was painful.

It was a terrible idea, but when I’d thought about that plane leaving without me, I was faced with the fear that had plagued me the moment I left Travis alone in his bed: What if it was the wrong decision?

That day, it had been. God, it had been the worst decision of my life.

I’d known it immediately, but fear had driven me away from him.

This time, that fear drove me back to him.

Not that it would do any good. I wasn’t even planning on doing anything about all of it.

I was going to the games because my friends wanted me to.

If he and I could clear the air, that’d be great, but I refused to get my hopes up about anything.

It wouldn’t be fair to put him in that position, one where I asked him to remove a boundary he’d placed because of my own failure.

So, no. I wasn’t going to get on my knees and beg for anything. I was just taking a vacation and, if he gave me the chance, owning up to my mistakes, then walking away.

“Thank you,” I said when the girl behind the counter slid a pint of ice cream to me.

Once I was outside, I removed the lid and sunk my spoon in. The intense lemon flavor was incredible, just like I remembered it.

As I sat at a picnic table and swiped through some of my drawings, I realized how sad it was to do this alone.

Maybe I should have invited one of the guys.

Not a single one of them would have come alone most likely, and I wasn’t in the mood to be with the group, so I told myself there was nothing wrong with having a sweet treat by myself. Besides, I was working.

My finger hovered over a folder for a few seconds.

Instead of doing the dumb thing and opening it, I tapped on the piece I was working on for a client.

I had a feeling I’d spend a lot of my time here drawing, if only to avoid the guys.

They’d no doubt try to drag me out all the time, which was bound to put me in awkward situations.

I’d go to the games, but that was all they could really expect from me .

A text made me pull out my phone, and even though it was stupid, my heart began to race. When I saw Tilian’s name, all of the nerves fled and were replaced by irritation.

Tilian: U used the ticket, motherfucker?! Where are u?

Well, here we go .