Page 57 of Wishes for August

The way he licked his lips, the feel of his hand resting on my arm, his knee against mine, it all felt so wrong. I wanted him to stop touching me, but I didn’t push him away because if I couldn’t fuck him, I couldn’t move on.

And I needed to move on.

“You want to get out of here?” Travis asked, his hand now running down the side of my neck and his breath hot against my ear. He smelled like sandalwood and the mint gum he was chewing and nothing about him was turning me on.

But I forced myself to respond, “Let’s stay here. Let me buy you another drink?” If I drank enough, I could numb myself to all the feelings overwhelming me.

Caleb had called me five times today and I had rejected each one, then deleted the trail of messages he’d sent without reading them. Tomorrow, I had a job interview at a small firm in North London, far away from Manners Media.

We drank for a bit longer and chatted about nothing of significance. At some point Travis stood from his seat and moved behind me. He placed his thick hands on my shoulders, rubbing at the muscles.

“You’re really tense,” Travis said as he bent down to whisper in my ear, “How about we go somewhere a little more private and I’ll help you relax?”

I looked back at him, his pupils were blown and his lips tipped up in a sly grin. I nodded and stood to face him. My body swayed as I stood, I’d lost count of how many drinks I had and things were a little hazy.

“Follow me." I swallowed thickly when I felt his hand reach for mine. He pulled me along with him, down a long, dark corridor which led to the toilets and a door marked “staff only.” The door was unlocked when Travis tried it, so he guided us inside, closing it behind us. It appeared to be a staff break room, kitted out with a small sofa and low standing coffee table. The room was grimyand smelled faintly of fried food and stale beer. My stomach ached, my skin itched and my head spun. I stepped back to lean against the wall as I watched Travis take in the room. He turned to face me, still near the door. His eyes were dark and he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth as he hungrily looked me over.

My feet were tethered to the ground, my mind doing a u-turn on the idea of being with him. It was all wrong, so, so wrong. I'd changed my mind. I didn't want to move on. I didn't want to be here with this guy. I needed to leave.

My hesitation though gave Travis a moment to take control and he took a step forward, caging me against the wall and slamming his lips to mine. His lips were dry and rough and when I felt the press of his tongue at the seam of mine, a tear rolled down my cheek.

And then I broke.

I felt the crack, as noticeable as the beat of my heart. I crumbled beneath his touch, pushing him away with force and sliding down the wall, landing with a thud as sobs wracked my body. Heavy tears flooded my eyes and I buried my head in my knees, hugging them tightly.

I vaguely heard Travis mutter something like “fuck this” before the door opened and then slammed again. Leaving me alone on the cold, dirty floor.

Panic seized me and my body shook, my mind fuzzy with a thousand thoughts running through it at once. I was flooded with memories of my mother, my father, of being alone. So sad and alone.

Of crying myself to sleep as a child. Sports days and school shows that no one came to watch. And then there were the thoughts of Caleb and how I never once felt alone once I knew him. Thoughts of how he held me, how he made me laugh, how he never made me feel anything less that loved completely. How he doted on his family, his friends and even his dog. How hehad endless amounts of love to share and unlike my father, not a selfish bone in him. Caleb was right, he wasn’t like my parents. I should have trusted him. I didn’t though and now I was alone and I had no one to blame but myself.

It occurred to me then, when my body was weak from alcohol and exhaustion, that maybe it was time I stopped letting my past determine my future. I owed that to myself. And to Caleb. Nausea hit me then, and I gagged, fighting back the bile rising in my throat as tears continued to fall. Blackness crept in around the periphery of my vision, so I closed my eyes and let it take me.

Chapter 30

Caleb

Sadness washed over me, pooling around like a fast rolling fog. In the space of a few short weeks I had lost everything that mattered to me. I wasn’t becoming a father and the man I loved more than anything wouldn’t answer my calls or texts.

I lay in bed, dressed in boxers and a tatty old top, Hamlet sprawled next to me and August’s t-shirt clutched in my hand. One of the many items of his still scattered throughout my house. On the table next to me sat a little black box, the contents of which I couldn’t bring myself to look at. I had been mere hours away from asking August to move in with me. Now he wouldn’t even take my call.

My heart wasn't just broken, a part of it was completely missing. I felt empty, incomplete and shattered. I didn’t know how I was meant to just carry on with this empty hole in my chest. Maybe time would make it better, but I wasn’t so sure.Getting over August sounded like an impossible task and also one I didn’t want to do.

I heard my phone ringing from somewhere in the room. Bone deep exhaustion kept me in bed, and trying to ignore the incessant noise, I pressed a pillow over my aching head. It wasn’t August’s ringtone so I didn’t care who it was. The ringing stopped briefly then started again. With a groan, I chucked off the pillow and hauled myself off the bed, digging around the mess on my bedroom floor.

Who the fuck needed me so badly?

I found my phone under a pile of dirty clothing and answered it without acknowledging the name on the screen.

“What?” I barked down the line.

“Thank fuck you finally answered.” I recognised Branson’s voice immediately, he sounded weary and out of breath. I felt my stomach sink. He’d never called me before.

“Branson? What happened, why are you calling me? Is August okay?” Acid churned in my gut. Something was wrong, I could feel it. I sat down on the edge of my bed, willing myself to calm down while I waited for Branson to answer me.

“No, he’s not fucking okay Caleb. You broke him. Fuck!” he yelled furiously. “I’ve just had a call from a bartender in some London dive bar. They’ve found August flipping out in their back room, sitting in a pile of his own vomit. He’s barely conscious and won’t talk to anyone. They close in an hour and have said if I don’t fetch him by then they’ll need to call the cops. I’m not even in the fucking country!”

I quickly started slipping on my dirty jeans while I continued to talk to Branson. My movements were uncoordinated, hands shaking as I tried to get myself dressed.