Page 31 of A Minute More

So fucking confusing.

I don’t know.

I meekly make it the way it should be and hand it to Jude who rings him up and then move on to the next one and the next until it’s closing time. Fuck, this job is mindless and boring. For a second, I wonder if I should pursue something related to my bachelor’s degree and then decide against it.

I don’t really know if that’s something I even want to do. I just did it because it was easy and the prerequisites weren’t hard, and now here I am—working at a sandwich shop for minimum wage. Assaulting men in the back room because they kissed me.

What the fuck am I doing with my life?

I end my shift feeling low and slightly depressed. Jude catches my mood and tries to address it, but I shrug him off and meander to my Bronco, slipping inside before checking my phone. Simon hasn’t messaged me. Probably because I frightened him by pushing him aggressively against the wall. That only happens in movies. That’s not something guys really like in real life.

Right?

I end up face down on my bed, my phone lying right next to me. I don’t dare look at it for fear of the disappointment coursing through me when I see that Simon hasn’t responded.

So I don’t look, I just fall into a dreamless state until I wake up again and then refuse to look at my messages.

I don’t want to hear from boss-man telling me that I’m fired. Or Simon reaming me a new one for pushing him up against a wall and breathing on him.

So I just don’t look.

I have nothing to do all day but mope and try to distract myself, so that’s what I do. I just wander about the house like a ghost.

“Want to go out?” Jude asks me later that evening. Ollie is bouncing on his toes next to him, looking all kinds of excited.

“Do none of you work?” I grumble as I fall face-first into my pillow, wallowing in my despair. I may never come out of it. I’m just a sinking pit of goo. Just let me become part of Yellowstone National Park. Perhaps I could entice people with my pretty, bubbling waters.

But haven’t people died by falling into those depths?

Perhaps I don’t want that after all. I’m not a murderer.

I sigh and roll to face the ceiling, looking at the ugly popcorn bumps lining it.

“I mean, I work just the same as you.” Jude’s tone is almost defensive. “And you know Ollie is busy as fuck, moving people’s shit here and there when he’s not working with us.”

“Yeah, sorry guys. I’m just….”

I lean toward Jude and whisper, “Are you really not gay? You really suck dick for fun?”

Jude rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “No need to whisper. Ollie knows. And no. Not an ounce of gay in me. Just like penis, I guess. And it’s fun. Meditative.”

I arch an eyebrow at him, not sure what the fuck he’s talking about. It sounds awful, to be honest. All the choking and drooling, not to mention the cum. I don’t know if I’d be a fan of drinking that.

“Alright, whatever you say, man.”

I flop back down on my bed and stare at the ceiling once more. Should put some glow-in-the-dark stars up there like I have back home so I have something to look at while I contemplate my life choices.

“Come on. Get up. Let’s go drinking,” Ollie says loudly.

“Don’t wanna,” I mutter, but Jude is pulling me to my feet and forcing me to move.

“No more sad sulking. No more. You are gonna forget about this and move on.”

I don’t know how he can tell me this when he’s been obsessing over Cassidy for decades. But then again, he left her at a party and never returned…where did he go?

“Hey, what about Cassidy?” I ask as he helps me into my jacket.

“What about her?”