Page 20 of Catching Kyle (Football Heartthrobs #1)

Michael Cunningham

I slam my fist against my desk in my home office. “No,” I mutter under my breath. “No, no, no, no, no.”

I pause my Joe Abercrombie audiobook and read the email for the third time, still sweaty from my work out. I message a fellow content writer on Teams. “Did you get the same email I just did?” I send.

He replies immediately. “Yep. They’re tossing us in the garbage. I knew this was coming.”

“No,” I moan one last time out loud. I check my email again, hoping it’s somehow disappeared. But it hasn’t. It just sits there, laughing at me.

I’ve been laid off, and my last official day is next Friday. I get a month of severance pay, but that’s it. Then I’m on my own.

I stand up and collapse onto my bed, not caring that I’m soaking it with sweat. And I lay there for God knows how long.

This week had gone so well.

Instead of worrying about what Kyle’s doing now that he’s come out, or worrying about whoever David is fucking, I decided to take my sponsor’s advice. I’ve been taking time for myself.

I took myself out to dinner. I went on a hike.

I went to see a movie by myself. And no matter how much I’ve been tempted, I haven’t followed up with Kyle about his coming out.

I don’t want to add extra stress to his life, and I don’t want to feel clingy either.

Besides, he and I are still having our normal meetup tomorrow.

But starting next Friday, a week from today, I won’t have a job. I have my OnlyFans to supplement my income, but that isn’t enough to fully support me. And I promised Kyle I wouldn’t post again, for at least this week. I want to keep that promise.

How am I going to pay rent? The last thing I want to do is move back in with my parents in Minnesota. They would allow it, but I’d have to live a half-life, unable to date any guys or talk about my sexuality. So much for unconditional parental love. I wonder if Kyle could relate.

I lift myself off my bed and slump to my computer. “Is it because of AI?” I send to my coworker. “Don’t need us writers anymore?”

“That might be what they say,” he says. “But corporations are always looking for excuses to lay people off. I think is a long time coming.”

I wipe my face and collapse my hand into my arms.

Now I have to look for a new job. How the hell am I supposed to write in the meantime?

It took me four months of straight hunting to find this job, and that’s when I was doing it fulltime.

I couldn’t write at all during this period.

This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

I was so hitting my stride with my novel.

I wish, more than anything, that my writing could be my day job.

I don’t know if my soul can take another corporate position.

Eventually, after God knows how long, I lift my head and look out the window.

The sun is shining, of course, as if nature is completely indifferent to my situation.

Which, like, of course it is. But really, why does it always rain when I don’t want it to, and why is it sunny now that I couldn’t be more miserable?

While I’ve been whining to myself, I’ve received four emails. I guess they’re having me work up until they nix me. Figures.

I eventually, I sit myself up and stare at my screen. If I want to find another job, I gotta start looking as soon as possible. But I still have to work this job now.

“Just for today,” I say out loud, parroting what I’ve heard in Al-Anon meetings. “I can get my work done. ”

Before I check my emails, I join a random Al-Anon zoom meeting on my phone.

And then I get to work. The entire day, I answer emails and do my writing, all while listening to others share their experiences.

It strengthens me, puts it all into perspective.

At least I’m not the only one suffering, and there’s light at the far end of this tunnel.

It just sucks going through it. I’m grateful to have this community as a resource, but I’d still like to be a greater part of the bookish community, one where I can bond, read works by, and share work with other book lovers.

That sense of home I found in college can’t be beat.

At lunch, I decide to continue on with my Joe Abercrombie audiobook while I eat.

Best Served Cold is much more compelling than I thought it would be and just as good as the First Law trilogy.

Hearing about all the shit that Monza is going through, comparing it to Logan Nine-Fingers, I get an idea for a romantasy: two knights in a disgraced retinue who fall in love and want to keep their fellow soldiers safe from bandits, other retinues, and the magical wild.

Sort of inspiration from Brandon Sanderson as well.

I loved reading the Stormlight Archive .

I consumed those 6,000 pages like it was nothing.

Even if this ambiguous relationship with Kyle Weaver goes nowhere, at least he challenged me to read outside my comfort zone. Just as he said, fantasy is inspiring.

But it’s not something I can write. That’s more for the straight men. Besides, I have the contemporary romance I’m writing, one that I’ll be struggling to finish as I descend into unemployment. Even if I could write the fantasy, I wouldn’t have the time to do it.

After eating and a little reading, I get back to work. During a lull in my day, I start looking at other content writing jobs, but the sheer idea of updating my resume, writing cover letters, and putting myself out there quite literally makes me nauseous. So I let myself wait until Monday.

By the time the workday ends and it’s time to go to book club, I couldn’t be more relieved.

This week, we read Rachel Gillig’s The Knight and the Moth .

I loved the duology she debuted with, and this one was just as good.

I love her writing for the same reason I like Joe Abercrombie: when characters encounter the dark, gritty, and hopeless, we get to see who they really are.

And often, they are better than we would think .

Buoyed after a lively discussion with who I like to call my book club girlies, I make my way over to the coffee shop we use as our light night meet up.

I was maybe a little too enthusiastic tonight in my comments, a little manic over the loss of my job, but nobody made me feel unwelcome.

In fact, romance book club is my favorite place to be these days.

A couple women after even approached me and recommended some places to apply.

But by the time I see Skye and Amani, I’m happy that I can just speak with no filter.

“You guys are not going to believe the shit I went through today,” I say.

When I’m done with my tirade, my mind clears enough for me to realize that Skye brought a friend.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, reaching out my hand. “I’m Michael.”

“Josue,” he says. “And I don’t blame you. I’d be just as pissed if I was laid off with a week’s notice.”

“Right? God.”

Skye laughs. “Josue’s a writer, too.”

“I write fantasy,” he says. “I heard about your group from Skye. I know you all write romance, so I hope that I’m not cramping your style.”

My stomach tugs when he mentions fantasy, but I’m not sure why. “Not a problem,” I say. “I’m actually a big fan.”

“Don’t see how you couldn’t be,” he says.

We all find a table and sit down. Skye and Josue get up to grab a drink.

“I’m really sorry to hear about your job,” Amani says. “Let me know how I can help. I’ll see if my company is looking for content writers.”

I sigh. “There were so few positions today that I could see,” I say. “I doubt it.”

“Well I’ll check anyways,” she says. “Are there more positions you could look for?”

I pause. “I don’t know. I hate corporate life so much I couldn’t imagine trying to pivot into something else. ”

“Maybe you don’t go corporate then,” she says. “Maybe you could work retail. Something mindless so you can work on your writing when you’re off the clock.”

Upon hearing the word ‘retail,’ I immediately think of Ruckers.

Though I’m not sure why. I’ve never seen that the bookstore is hiring, and they have so many positions filled by enthusiastic people that I doubt they’d have room for me.

Plus, I’d like a job where I can work from home and potentially write while I have down time.

“I’ll think about it,” I say.

Skye and Josue return, and she hands me a tall cup. “Decaf mocha for you.”

“Awh,” I say. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’ll be unemployed soon,” she says. “It’s the least I could do.”

I can’t help but laugh. “How thoughtful.”

And then we jump into our shares. Skye shares a brief excerpt of her romance when her two characters finally realize they love one another, and there’s a cool magical realism element she’s infusing into the story that allows us to look at the character’s past and present at the same time.

Amani’s agent liked her idea, so she brought in the first five pages of her new dark lesbian romantasy, and it’s fantastic.

Josue has this really interesting fantasy heist idea that he’s outlining right now, and I’m excited just listening to it.

We take a brief break, and I pull out my phone.

All this fantasy reading and discussion has me excited to talk to him.

Without thinking twice, I type out a message.

“Hey, been reading some great stuff this week. Excited to talk fantasy with you. Are we still on for tomorrow?” And then I hit send.

Amani then asks me a specific question about her writing, and I completely forget about the text.

And once everyone’s back, it’s my turn to share. I look down at my excerpt, and I can’t hold back my frown.

I love contemporary romance, or at least I always have. But I just don’t feel as excited about my original novel as I used to. I know I said that I would query this book, and that if it didn’t get any traction, I would give up.

But I don’t know if I feel that way anymore.

At first, editing the novel was exciting, but now it just feels like monotonous drudgery.

I know that editing is hard, but is it supposed to be this hard?

Like ‘bang your head against the desk hard’?

I don’t want to get ‘grass is greener on the other side’ syndrome, where the next project always looks better than my current one, but something feels off here.

“Whatcha got for us today?” Skye asks.

I sigh. “You know, I’ve been editing my novel, but I also had this really cool romantasy idea.”

“What is it?” Amani asks. “I didn’t know you were into writing fantasy.”

“I didn’t either,” I admit. “But I want to give it a try.”

“Well tell us,” Skye says. “You’ve heard enough from us already.”

I take a deep breath. “Alright,” I say. And then I lay it all out.

I talk about the two knights, how the retinue they belong to uses a specific magic practice that has now been outlawed as a result of a revolution.

“So now they’re all criminals,” I continue.

“But what else are they supposed to do? Their options are to turn themselves in for execution or fight back and become the barbarians they are painted out to be.

“Uhh,” Josue says. “That’s fucking rad.”

I catch my breath. “You think so?”

Amani gives me that dead serious look she always does. “Really,” she says. “And listen to yourself. I’ve never seen you so animated about an idea.”

I look back, realizing how I was talking so excitedly that I wasn’t stopping to breathe.

“I think you should write it,” Skye says. “Give your current book a break. Start this one. If it’s right, you can go back to it.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and my stomach leaps, remembering the text I sent to Kyle. I wonder what he’ll think of this new idea. I can’t wait to tell him.

But then dread pools in my chest at the thought setting my contemporary romance down. “What if this is just a shiny object? What if I’m just not disciplined and this is a way to distract myself?”

Skye shrugs. “Then you can deal with that realization when it comes. But if you feel strongly about this, I don’t think you should hold yourself back. ”

The dread in my chest turns to excitement. She’s right.

“Then next week, expect to see my new story.”

Amani smiles. “Can’t wait.”

As we wrap up, my feelings are all over the place.

I’m most excited about embarking on this new romantasy journey.

I can’t wait to see what it’s like to explore love in a fantasy world.

But in a week, I won’t have a job. And in a month, I won’t have an income.

If I want to resolve this, I have to start working as soon as possible. Which means no writing at all.

I pull my phone out, eager to see what Kyle said. Maybe he’ll have some advice. Hell, he might even have ideas about where I could work. He’s so confident, so talking to him always makes me feel a little more sure of myself.

When I check my messages, I expect to see his name. But instead, it’s just a random promotional from a bakery I became a member of a couple months back. There’s no response from Kyle. Nervous, I open up our messages and see that he still hasn’t read it.

“That’s okay,” I say quietly to myself. “He’s probably busy.”

But as I make my way home, my mind goes to the darkest places. What if he’s gonna ghost me? I can’t name how many times it was going well with a guy and then I never heard from him again. Or worse: what if he’s fucking someone else?

The image makes me queasy. I told myself I could never catch feelings for him because he is straight and therefore emotionally unavailable to be my partner.

And this helped. It was like a wall between us.

But now that he theoretically can be there for me—the facts that he just came out and is part of the NFO notwithstanding—the idea of him with somebody else ignites primal jealousy inside me. I can feel it stirring in my gut.

I check my phone one more time when I get home. Still nothing.

“Please,” I say to the screen. “Don’t be like all the others.”

But as I get ready for bed, I prepare myself for the worst.