The one regret that changed everything.
It was eight o'clock in the morning and the contractors were back to work, filling my house with the obnoxious noise of renovations. I crumpled my pillow into a ball and shoved my face into it as I let out a frustrated cry. Lately, I'd been spending most nights with Aaron since my house is basically nothing but bones with a bedroom, but after Friday night, I was basically exiled until I figured out how to fix things with Donovan. The bastards didn't care if I personally fixed my relationship with him, they only cared about themselves and if Donovan hated them.
That meant I was back at my house; where the bathrooms had no doors, the kitchen was gutted, the floors were plywood, and the walls were studs. It was barely livable. I shouldn't have been living there, but I was. Of course, neither living in this construction hellhole nor getting the cold shoulder from my best friends were the reasons for screaming into my pillow.
Donovan. Sweet, sexy, smart, funny, sassy, and smoking hot, Donovan.
The things I'd said, the look on his face, and the hurt in his green eyes.
Those
were the reasons I'd screamed into the dark abyss of my feather pillow.
I'm surprised I heard the chirp of my phone (indicating I had a text) over my release of emotions, but I did. I didn't want to look because I had a good idea who it was and he wasn't anyone I wanted to talk to.
I was confident it wasn't from any of my friends, and it definitely couldn't have been from my boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend (I couldn't bring myself to use that term, not yet). One would think Donovan had made himself clear, but I hadn't quite reached the acceptance stage.
It was funny because, in the past, none of my breakups had that effect on me. If they wanted to break up, I said, 'okay, good times' and gave them a handshake before they walked out of the door. I never thought twice about the split. Donovan was the first person I actually wanted to date and spend time with, but old habits die hard.
I grabbed my phone while holding on to a sliver of hope that maybe,
just maybe
, he was texting me. There was a strong internal battle raging as to whether or not to look at the phone. On one hand, if I didn't look then the possibility of Donovan wanting me back was alive and well, but if I looked, I'd know it wasn't him.
It wasn't him. It was Davis.
Fucking Davis Hollingsworth.
*** *** *** ***
I'd met Davis the previous week, about a potential commercial remodel job. The job was a big one and would keep me busy for a while,
if
I could get it. It was a hospital that was going to undergo not only extensive remodeling, but additions, which was why they needed me. Davis worked for Samaritan Health Corp. and was in charge of overseeing the entire project, including hiring contractors such as myself.
I'd never been one to suck up, but it was a big job and I really wanted it. I was respected in my field but was still considered a small fish. This contract would bump me up considerably. Life might not revolve around your success but that wasn't going to stop me from trying to climb that ladder. Having the hospital job in my portfolio would allow me the opportunity to pick better, more sustainable jobs, which was why I allowed him to leach onto me. Since he wasn't local, he asked if I'd show him around. I didn't want to, but decided I needed to be friendly. As far as mistakes go, friending Davis had been a
big
one and I hadn't been able to shake him since. I didn't tell him about the Friday night game, but I'd accidently let it slip that I was going out with friends that evening, so he invited himself along. Everything happened so fast and the next thing I knew, he was following me into the bar.
Davis was
obviously
gay and very obviously interested in me—a feeling that
wasn't
reciprocated. I hadn't had a chance to tell him about Donovan, both because I didn't have time and had no interest in sharing anything about my personal life with him, which made everything incredibly awkward when we sat down. I'd already been fighting with Donovan, which was my fault. Before arriving at the bar, I'd had every intention of sitting him down when the night was finished and explaining everything. Donovan didn't look happy when he saw Davis follow me in and Davis didn't look happy to hear Donovan was my boyfriend. I was stuck in an awkward sandwich in which I only wanted Donovan, and Davis could choked on a straw...after I got the contract.
In a perfect world, Donovan and I would've rubbed our blissfully happy relationship into Davis' face, but we weren't talking so, instead, I awkwardly sat next to Donovan. I'd told him I wanted to talk when we were finished, he agreed, and about two seconds later, he became pissed because I offered to get his drink refilled. That was pretty much the point when the night went to shit.
As Donovan stormed off, he took his friends with him and I watched them dance for a while before Davis started dropping comments about Donovan—he was obviously jealous and didn't like him. I, mostly, ignored him as I followed Donovan and his friends around the bar with my eyes.
That's when a Britney Spears song came on and everyone forced him to dance. The dance itself was terribly cheesy, yet hilarious. The best part was watching Donovan—the guy
could
dance
and watching his body move was my favorite pastime. Watching him move only gave me more motivation to leave so we could work things out, so then I could ravage his smoking hot body.
I watched them hysterically laugh as the song finished and then they pushed each other toward the exit. I couldn't help but smile at Donovan's carefree spirit. He looked especially good laughing.
"Donovan is seriously hilarious! I love that guy."
It made me happy to know my friends liked Donovan, almost as much as I did—Drew could've toned it down a bit, but I wasn't worried. Davis asked about Donovan and his friends, so we took some time to explain how we'd all met and about the night we'd all gone to the club after they beat us for the first time.
"So, you're into guys like that?" Davis asked.
I felt his judgement and something inside of me panicked. I shrugged and nodded, too afraid to say something that might offend him.
Hindsight...
"I think you'd do
so
much
better with someone who's not so...you know?"
I knew what he was implying and I would've been lying if I'd said there weren't moments, in the past, when it was a little difficult for me—mostly because my dad, as great as he was, had really fucked me up.
"Sometimes he can be
overly
, boisterous. Like tonight."
"Yeah, that dance was
terrible
! I was cringing the whole time. You'd never do anything like that, would you?"
"Of course not."
And I wouldn't have. I've never like attention and I'd always shied away from things like public displays of affection, karaoke, school talent shows, dancing at weddings with less than six beers or three hard drinks, or tripping on air. Basically, anything that might bring unwanted attention, which was
any
attention.
"I didn't think so, because you're not like that," he smirked but I shot him a hard glance that told him to watch it, that he was treading on very thin ice. Davis looked around the table and realized he wasn't surrounded by Donovan haters.
"Seriously though, you're different. It's my experience that not all gay guys are created equal. I guess to each their own. I for one, wish there were more guys like you. You're cool and chill. You're a man, you play sports, you live life. You don't try and prove yourself by waving the flag or...doing a ridiculously embarrassing dance to Britney Spears in the middle of a bar," he laughed.
Kurt looked at me with his mouth agape, unable to process how ridiculous this guy was. That he'd be talking shit about Donovan in front of us. We couldn't help but laugh, not at what he was saying but at his cluelessness. I was already on shaky ground with Donovan, and as much as I wanted Davis' contract, it didn't come close to how much I wanted Donovan. Davis was treading in sinking sand and none of us were gonna pull him out.
I was still staring at Kurt, thinking about the day dad had taken us all to watch a baseball game and tried to justify my sexuality by saying I just like a tight ass. My father has said a lot of really ridiculous things in my life but that topped them all. On the plus side, we've gotten a lot of mileage from that ignorant statement. We were still laughing when I they noticed the smirk on my face.
"Well...yeah, I mean—I'm not a fag or anything, I just like a tight ass.
