Page 7 of Learn Your Limits

Chapter seven

Reid

I think I might have messed up. I mean, it’s not entirely my fault. I panicked. I let myself be vulnerable with someone new, and my body entered into fight-or-flight mode. As soon as I sent Milo a picture of my sketch last night, all of the tell-tale signs started to make themselves known.

Sweaty palms, pounding heart, shortness of breath.

I had opened myself up, and my body was rebelling against me because of it.

I swore I wouldn’t leave him on read, but that’s exactly what I did.

In my defense, he asked me not to touch myself, only to then tell me that he was just as interested in my day as he was my cock.

There was no way I was going to be able to control my hands after that.

But I also wasn’t going to lie to him and pretend to be good when I’d knowingly disobeyed him.

Disobeyed him?

I don’t know where that thought came from.

He’s not my keeper. I don’t even know him.

Not really. But I want to. Which means I’ve messed up.

He’s not going to forgive me. He’s going to think I was just some “young thing” as he put it.

That I was just messing with him for fun.

That I’m not actually interested in him.

But fuck if that isn’t so far from the truth.

What are the odds that he’ll see my messages now and we can just pretend that I didn’t have a moment of weakness and freak out?

It’s only noon, and we were up kind of late.

With classes starting soon, I would imagine he’s trying to enjoy these last few days as much as he can, before the stress of the school year begins.

I don’t know what I’ll do if he really is upset with me.

I will have no choice but to respect his wishes if he decides he’s not interested in pursuing anything between us.

What I do know for certain is that I will need to be the one to break the silence. He’s not going to reach out to me after the way I ghosted him.

I need to find a way to slip away from everyone so I can have a moment to myself. I don’t need anyone here trying to lean over my shoulder and invade a private conversation.

As if on cue, Matt leaps up from the couch beside me.

“Ah man! What the hell was that? Did you see that shit?” he yells, waving a hand at the television as though we aren’t all watching the same game-play footage.

He and Wes are both on the OU football team, and we’re currently hanging out at one of their teammates' homes while they all watch old footage in preparation for games to start back up. There are a few girls here and other guys who aren’t part of the team, so at least I’m not the only odd-man-out.

I wait until they’re all absorbed in watching the footage again before I peel myself from the couch and head out to the backyard to grab a bottle of water from the cooler.

I’ve never been much of a drinker, and I’ve gotten used to being the only completely sober one in social situations.

It’s easier to maintain the image expected of me when my mind and body aren’t weighed down by inebriating vices.

If I ever made a mistake while under the influence, I would never hear the end of it.

It wouldn’t matter how small the mistake was, my parents would never forgive me.

Who I am and how I behave is a direct reflection of them, and I’m supposed to make sure they’re painted in a good light.

I have no choice but to be perfect.

Thankfully, the backyard is empty when I step outside. Everyone else is surrounding the TV in the living room. They are either trying to pretend to understand what’s happening, or they’re just as invested as Matt, yelling and screaming like their voices will be heard through the screen.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open the app from last night and immediately find Milo’s message.

I need to apologize. He asked me where the shy young man had gone and had expressed liking vulnerability and eagerness.

Well, here I am, being shy again and feeling uncomfortably eager as I finally, finally, type out a response.

CallMeCal: Hey, Milo.

What the heck am I thinking? Hey, Milo? That’s not enough.

Not after the way I was drawn to him last night.

Like some kind of invisible tether was connecting me to this handsome stranger through our phone screens, and I was helpless against it.

I don’t even know what to say here. I need to pull myself together and stop sending him dozens of back-to-back short messages.

I’m fully capable of stringing together more than a few sentences at a time.

Last night was merely a fluke. The exhilaration coursing through me had my body on overload, and my brain was firing faster than I could type. I need him to know that I’m serious about getting to know him and that suddenly dropping the conversation isn’t something that will happen again.

CallMeCal: I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I’m sorry for just now responding.

CallMeCal: Last night was a lot for me. I wasn’t expecting to meet someone and feel so connected that fast. I’m not used to being open with anyone. I spend a lot of time being who others expect me to be, and after sending you a picture of the sketch I’d spent all day working on, I felt exposed.

CallMeCal: I hadn’t even hesitated to let you see that piece of me, and it scared the shit out of me.

There. Was that enough?

Slipping around to the side of the house where there’s a bit of shade, I press my back to the wall, leaning against it as I prop a single foot up.

I hold my phone out with the front-facing camera angled toward my body and capture a small part of my face in the photo this time, just enough to show the slight smile across my face and the bit of auburn scruff that lines my jaw, concealing some of the freckles decorating my skin.

The solid black shirt and dark wash jeans I’m wearing at least make me seem more put together, unlike half the guys here who are wearing OU shirts and basketball shorts.

CallMeCal: [attached image]

CallMeCal: I hope you’re having a good day.

CallMeCal: Please forgive me.

I take a second to read back over the messages I’ve sent, a huff of laughter escaping me.

Apparently back-to-back text messages are unavoidable when it comes to Milo.

Heaving a sigh, I run a hand down the back of my neck and press my head back against the wall of the house.

How is one person able to turn me into such a mess?