Page 48 of Catching Kyle (Football Heartthrobs #1)

Michael Cunningham

I drive to work on one of those sad, ugly days where the sun hides behind thick, gray clouds. It’s been raining on and off but always raining when I need to step outside. The weather in Portland today reflects exactly how I feel: depressed, hopeless, and out of options.

I was epically ghosted by an NFO player with whom I was having the steamiest, most blush-inducing sex of my lifetime. And I’ve been selling porn for nearly five years. That’s saying something.

I also lost my best friend. She was arguably the reason my whole relationship with Kyle imploded in the first place.

I can see, though, that expecting her to be a fake-girlfriend for so long, when she was gay herself, was not a fair ask, even if she agreed to it.

But neither of us have made the effort to apologize to the other.

And with how stubborn we both are, I don’t know if we ever will.

Skye and Josue, my other writing group friends, have refused to get involved, which has turned into them not speaking to either of us.

Or me, at least. I haven’t spoken to them in weeks, so I don’t know if they’ve been talking to Amani.

I spent my Christmas eve filming porn with some rando I’d never met before.

It was hot, but it was empty as it’s always been.

I’ve talked with Susan, my sponsor, once and told her what’s happened, but I haven’t talked to her since. I’m just not ready to dig into it .

An incoming call appears on my dashboard, and my heart skips a beat. But then I remember that literary agents don’t cold-call you anymore. They email you first. Not recognizing the number, I decline the call.

I’ve been querying my first fantasy romance to literary agents for months.

Three of them requested to see my full manuscript, but two of them declined me in the past month.

The third one has been out for a few months now, and I’m starting to think she’s just going to ghost me.

But it doesn’t matter, anyways. Ever since shit went down with Kyle, I haven’t been able to focus on my new novel at all.

Maybe this is the sign for me to just give it all up.

That was my original goal anyway, right?

To give up if I didn’t get representation?

Maybe it’s time to finally throw in the towel.

When I get to work at Rucker’s bookstore, I go through my typical tasks: checking inventory, answering customer questions, and handling anything left undone from the night before.

But I feel so hollow. I was so grateful when I was offered a job here, thinking that the only job I could stomach besides being a full-time author was working in a bookstore.

But now the whole experience feels like ash on my tastebuds.

I don’t know how I’m going to have the energy or enthusiasm to lead queer book club tonight.

By the time lunch hits, I’m so exhausted that I’m tempted to go home sick.

But I need the money. After so many months of producing no videos per Kyle’s request—fuck him, by the way—I’ve had to go about building back up my audience to make what I used to.

That takes time, and I’m not quite there yet.

My phone buzzes, and I check the caller. It’s that same number. I decline it, then go about my lunch. But then my phone rings again.

I assess the number. The area code is familiar.

And then my stomach sinks. That’s the area code of northern Mississippi where Kyle’s hometown is located.

I know this because Kyle’s mom gave me her number before I left Glamour Springs.

After unsuccessfully trying to reach him, I blocked Kyle everywhere.

He must have gotten a new number to contact me.

And you know what? I’m feeling shitty today. And I’m gonna let him have it .

“You have some fucking nerve calling me,” I say. “What the fuck do you want?”

Silence. “Michael?”

My heart skips a beat. That is not Kyle on the other line.

“Uh, yeah,” I say, my forehead starting to sweat, sufficiently embarrassed. “Who’s this?”

“I’m sorry to keep calling you,” the male voice says. “It’s Jimmy. Remember me?”

Jimmy. The owner of the diner in Glamour Springs who’s like an older brother to Kyle.

“Jimmy,” I say. “Nice to hear from you. But Kyle and I aren’t exactly together anymore. As you obviously know.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I know. I had a feeling this would happen. I wanted to reach out for a while to talk to you about it.”

“I’m not sure what you could tell me,” I say. “Even if Kyle wanted me back, I don’t think I’d say yes.”

“I wanted to talk because I’ve been through the same thing,” he says. “I wanted to offer my support. You got a few minutes to talk?”

I look around the employee room. Nobody’s around, but anyone could walk in. I don’t know what Jimmy has to say, but he’s a friendly, familiar voice. The only people I’ve talked to in the past week are customers and the men fucking me.

“Sure,” I say, standing up and grabbing my coat. I make my way outside into the cold and put my headphones in. “So what’s going on?”

He chuckles. “That’s what I wanted to ask you,” he says. “How are you holding up since Kyle walked out on you?”

No sugar-coating things I see. “Honestly, pretty bad.”

He sighs. “Yeah, sounds about right. That’s how it was for me when my ex left.”

I start walking down the sidewalk. “This happened to you? ”

“Not exactly the same,” he says. “But pretty damn similar.” He tells me how his ex’s insecurity led to him keeping secrets, cheating, and to their eventual falling out.

“And you’re saying you told Kyle all this?”

“Yeah,” he grunts. “I tried to warn him how vicious internalized homophobia can be. We can obviously see that now. But he thought he’d be okay.”

I exhale through my nose, sending steam into the cold air. “Yeah, obviously not.”

“But I wanted to share my experience with you. Because I handled it really poorly. And I don’t want you to do the same.”

My interest is piqued. “How’d you handle it poorly?”

He lets out a long sigh. It sounds like he’s still hurt.

“I shut everyone out. I blamed everyone I could. I held my anger and bitterness close to my heart. I thought if I let it go, I’d be approving of what Joe did to me.

Sending a message to the world that anyone could lie to or cheat on me and that I wouldn’t care.

“And I did this for so long. I got depressed. I had to go see a professional. I gained a lot of weight. Still getting over the effects of that. It was bad. But then I learned something that changed my whole perspective.”

I reach a street corner and decide to keep walking. “What’s that?”

“That I can’t do this alone,” he says. “In looking for people to blame, I isolated myself. And eventually started blaming myself for everything. I needed to talk to others to get outside myself to get an accurate perspective. To heal. So that’s what I did.

Kyle’s mama was a big inspiration. Silas, Martha, and Llewellyn have been my rocks as well.

“I imagine that someone in your shoes is pissed. I’d be too. But don’t let that depression swallow you up. It can do real damage. And from what I know, you’re a real good kid. I would hate to see you waste away like I did.”

As I walk and listen, something catches my eye. I peer into the glass of the building next to me and spot a bunch of different anime books. Right in front of me is the latest physical volume of One Piece, Amani’s favorite anime.

I let out a long sigh, one that I’ve been holding for what feels like months. “Thank you so much Jimmy,” I say. “You’re right. ”

“Just thought I’d pass along the wisdom that was given to me. If Kyle’s mama hadn’t been there for me, I don’t know if I woulda made it.”

I remember her, along with my sponsor months ago, telling me to focus on myself. To not try and chase after Kyle. And per Jimmy’s advice, I think that means breaking my self-imposed isolation.

“I’m glad you did,” I say. “I’ve been isolating myself hardcore. I think it’s time to end that.”

“Good,” he says. “I didn’t want to take too much of your time, but I gotta get back to work.”

“Same,” I say, searching the manga tome for its price.

“You call me if you ever need anything, okay? Consider me part of your circle. You’re a good kid.”

My chest warms for the first time in weeks. “I will,” I say. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

“Take it easy,” he says. And hangs up.

I chew on my cold lips, then click my tongue. I open my messages and start drafting a text.

“I’ve been a huge asshole,” I say. “Have time to meet at the anime restaurant tonight? I’m free after book club. Really.”

My heart racing, I go inside the store and purchase the very same volume. Last time Amani and I spoke, she had been behind. This might help her catch up. Once I walk out of the store with the tome in hand, my phone buzzes.

“I’ve been ridiculous too,” she says. “Really. I’ll see you there.”

And for the first time in weeks, I feel hope.

* * *

When I arrive at the restaurant, Amani already has a table, and she’s standing there with open arms. I rush to her and wrap my arms around her.

“I’ve been an idiot,” I say, the giant mural of Naruto staring me right in the face.

“Me, too,” she says.

I pull away and hand her the giant One-Piece tome that was hidden under my coat.

Her jaw drops, and she beams .

“So you can catch up,” I say.

She kisses me on the cheek, then marvels down at the tome again. “Thank you,” she says. “I’ve been dragging my feet now that I’m behind. This will get me all caught up.”

We both sit down, and I take a sip of my Diet Coke that Amani already ordered for me.

“I’m just gonna say it,” I say. “I put all the blame on you, and that wasn’t fair.”

She marvels at the giant book one more time before flipping it over so it doesn’t distract her. “But you had reason to be angry. I put the whole fake-dating thing at risk when I decided to go on a date with Angie. And it looked like the worst happened.”