Fuck Buddy

by Scott Hildreth

  “I was.”

  Shit.

  I brushed the lint from my pants as I walked toward his office. After tugging the wrinkles from my shirt, I stepped through the door and peered over his massive desk.

  “Yes?”

  “You realize if there’s something you need to talk about, you can always come to me, right?” he asked.

  Mr. Davidson was in his late fifties, and an attractive man with neatly cropped salt and pepper hair. He reminded me of my father, and always treated his employees with respect, which was something I admired about him. It was disheartening to think that he was able to see what I believed I was hiding all so well. Luke always said he could see right through me and apparently Mr. Davidson could as well.

  I forced a shitty little smile, glanced at the handful of papers I was holding, and tried to act preoccupied. “Uh huh. I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not,” he said. “And you haven’t been for some time.”

  I continued to adjust the stack of samples, acting as if it was more important than anything else at the moment. I wished he would give up and allow me to go back to my office and sulk, but expected he wasn’t done with me yet. As he cleared his throat, I shifted my eyes up from the product samples.

  “I’m fully aware your parents are in the middle of nowhere, so again, if you need to talk, I’m always here to lend an ear. Remember that, okay?” he asked.

  I felt like crying. I nodded. My eyes quickly fell to the floor. “Thank you.”

  “Do you need some time off?” he asked.

  “No, really. I’m fine. I just need to get this done by Friday, that’s all,” I said dryly.

  “I tell you what. Friday’s only two days away. After you get that done, why don’t you take some time off? All you do is work, and you never take time for yourself. Take next week off, and don’t even worry about using your vacation time. You and Luke just go to the beach or spend some time doing whatever you two enjoy, how’s that?”

  “His brother was hit by a car,” I blurted.

  I had no idea where the words even came from, they simply escaped my mouth like a sickness. As his eyes filled with concern, I continued.

  “His legs are crushed, his arms are broken, and I don’t know how to fix it,” I babbled.

  I began to softly cry.

  I placed the paperwork I was clutching on the edge of his desk and wiped my eyes as he walked past me. He closed the door, walked to the edge of the desk, and opened his arms. I all but fell into him and allowed him to comfort me while I cried. None of the tears I shed were for Matthew, even though a few should have been.

  They were all for Luke – and for me – because I had no idea how I was going to fix what seemed to wedge its way between us.

  “Where is he?” he asked.

  “At the beach.” I leaned away from him and shook my head. “Oh, sorry. I mean Balboa.”

  “Flowers won’t fix anything, but I’ll have some sent, nonetheless. I’m so sorry. Why don’t you leave your project with me and take the rest of the week off?”

  I pulled away and wiped my eyes with my forearm, feeling foolish for having cried in the first place. “No, I’m just emotional. I’m sorry, I really don’t have anyone to talk to about it.”

  I realized after I spoke that my statement made Luke look like a shit hat, and he wasn’t any such thing. As much as I couldn’t seem to bring myself to love him at the moment, I sure couldn’t allow myself to hate him either.

  “Well,” I said as I collected my composure. “Except for Luke. It’s just hard on him too.”

  He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his pants and nodded. “I’m sure it is. I’m so sorry. If I may ask, what happened?”

  “He was. He was on his bicycle. A car drove off the road onto the bike path and hit him,” I said softly.

  He shook his head. “How tragic. Again, I’m so sorry. You can leave that file with me.”

  “No,” I said, reaching for the file. “I just needed a good cry. I’m okay now.”

  “Very well,” he said. “But I don’t want to see you in here next week.”

  I clutched the file tightly and grinned. “Okay.”

  “Again, if you need anything,” he said.

  “I will,” I responded, fully knowing I wouldn’t.

  I went back to my office, attempted to focus on my work, and found that I couldn’t. After an hour of struggling to concentrate and being unsuccessful at doing so, I picked up my phone. For some time, I simply stared at the screen, hoping I could remain in limbo until everything was fixed. Eventually I decided I couldn’t continue to treat Luke in the same manner, and I did what I knew I needed to do.

  I typed him a text message.

  I gazed down at what I had said.

  We need to have a talk

  Knowing I had full knowledge of what the talk would consist of – and that Luke had no earthly idea – my eyes welled with tears.

  And I pressed send.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  LUKE

  “You just have to be true to who you are, and if she’s attracted to that person, you’re golden,” I said.

  “Don’t be a phony, right?” Juan asked.

  I nodded. “You’ve got it.”

  “And that’s all it takes?”

  “It’s not all it takes, but it’s the first thing you need to be concerned with,” I said. “Look at it this way. If you’re trying to be someone you’re not, whether it’s to impress her or because you think it’s what she wants, then she isn’t falling for you, she’s falling for whoever it is you’re trying to be.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  I raised my index finger in the air. “And sooner or later, because you’re trying to be someone you’re not, the real you will shine through. But you aren’t who she fell in love with. She fell for the guy you were trying to be.”

  “I’m always me, it’s just sometimes I do dumb stuff.”

  I lifted my chin slightly. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Like singing in the hallways and making up rap songs. You know, just dumb stuff.”

  “Has she heard you sing your rap songs?”

  He chuckled. “Everybody has.”

  “And she likes you anyway?”

  “She says she does.”

  “Then she likes you. That’s the best start you can ask for,” I said. “Just remember, always be true to you.”

  “I’m just nervous to go back. I can’t wait to see her, though,” he said.

  “How much longer?” I asked.

  “First day of school is September 8th.”

  “Well, you’ve got a month to prepare. You haven’t seen her at all this summer?”

  He shook his head. “No, she goes to Chula Vista to be with her dad for the summer.”

  I folded my arms in front of my chest and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Being away from someone you’re affectionate toward sucks.”

  “What do you know about that?” he asked. “You see Liv every day. Ever since I been knowing you.”

  “I loved her for a long time before we got together. Let’s just say not all of it was easy,” I said. “I was away from her on an off, mentally at least.”

  He grinned. “I gotcha.”

  The front door opening caught my attention. After peering outside the paint booth and seeing someone in the shop, I tossed my head toward the front door. “Someone’s here.”

  He looked like he was lost. Dressed in khaki-colored slacks, a silk short-sleeved button-down short, and huarache sandals, he gazed around the shop like he’d never seen a surfboard before. His tan looked like it was developed in a salon, and damned sure not earned from being in the sun.

  “What can I help you with?”

  “The one and only Luke Eagan.” He said as he extended his hand. “I’m Peter Brisk with A.S.P. Have you got as few minutes?”

  I shook his hand. “I’ve got the rest o
f my life, what can I help you with?”

  His eyes shifted toward Juan. “You want to talk right here?”

  “Haven’t got anywhere else to go, so yeah. Oh, and this is Juan Ramirez. Juan, this is Peter Brisk.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sir,” Juan said as he shook his hand.

  “So, what can I help you with?”

  “I’m going to cut right to it. A year or so ago, you were at Black’s Beach. News 8 did a piece on you. We don’t really know how that slipped past us, but it did. Anyway. We’ve done a little research on our end, and there’s considerable interest in you. So, we’d like to make you an offer.”

  I studied his attire and his heavily greased hair. I fought not to laugh. “An offer for what?”

  “Sponsorship,” he said.

  “You must have done too much research,” I said sarcastically. “I don’t surf pro.”

  He coughed a laugh and nodded eagerly. “We’re well aware. We’d like for you to consider changing that, but if you don’t, there’s still interest.”

  “You want to sponsor me?”

  He grinned and spread his arms wide. “We want to represent you. We’re an agency of sports agents and professional marketers. We have a long list of people who want to sponsor you.”

  I had almost zero interest in listening to what he said, but decided to entertain him anyway. “Like who?”

  “Red Bull, Oakley, Hurley, Billabong, Vans.” He widened his eyes. “I could go on.”

  I shook my head. “Impressive, but there’s no need.”

  “So, what are your thoughts? Do you have time to sit down and talk over your options?”

  “Sorry, I’m really interested.”

  “When you hear how much money I’m talking about I think you’ll change your mind. Luke, we’re talking about seven figures over a three-year period,” he said.

  He raised his hands even with his chest and acted like he was holding something. “Seven. Figures.”

  I scoffed. “Sounds like a lot of money. But, I’m not for sale.”

  He smiled until he revealed all of his snow-white teeth. “Nobody wants to buy you, Luke. They only want a sticker on your surfboard and their name on your wetsuit.”

  “Appreciate it, but like I said.”

  “Let me leave a card with you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Here you go. Think about it, and give me a call when you get time.”

  I accepted the card and nodded. “Again, I appreciate it.”

  “Well.” He glanced around the shop. “I’ll be in touch.”

  He walked out of the shop and got into a new Mercedes-Benz. I turned to face Juan and wagged my eyebrows.

  His eyes were as wide as saucers. “A million. That’s seven figures.”

  I tossed the business card at him. “Sure is.”

  It fluttered to the floor at his feet. He bent down and picked it up. “And you don’t care?”

  I shrugged. “I’m flattered. But. Not interested.”

  “Staying true to yourself?”

  I wagged my finger in the air. “You learn quick, Kid.”

  “No matter what it costs?” he asked.

  “When you truly believe in something, money doesn’t come into play,” I said “Can you be bought?”

  He shoved the business card into his pants pocket. “What do you mean?”

  I turned my palm up and waved my hand in his direction. “Do you believe in God?”

  “I’m Catholic,” he said with a laugh. “So, yeah.”

  “If I was willing to give you a million bucks, but you had to stop believing in God and start worshiping the devil, would you?”

  “No way,” he snapped back.

  I acted shocked. “Why?”

  He puffed his chest slightly and rolled his shoulders back. “The devil isn’t my God.”

  “Because that’s your belief, right?”

  He nodded. “It sure is.”

  “Well, that’s my point. When you truly believe in something, nothing will change your mind. Not money, pressure from your peers, persuasive tactics.” I waved my hands toward the door and laughed. “Not a new Mercedes-Benz.”

  “Nothing.”

  He grinned. “I like how you explain things. I’m glad we’re friends.”

  “So am I,” I said. “And I like how you’re willing to listen.”

  “You going to tell Liv about turning that guy down?”

  I glanced toward the bench. My phone was sitting at the end of it, where it had been all day. “I sure am.”

  I picked it up, swiped my thumb over the screen, and immediately realized I had missed a text message from Liv. After opening it, my heart sank.

  “Everything okay?” Juan asked.

  My concern must have been plastered all over my face.

  “Yeah, everything’s just fine,” I lied.

  But it wasn’t.

  A butterfly had just flapped its wings in Argentina.

  And now I was forced to walk head-on into the eye of what I was certain to be terrible storm.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  LIV

  With my knees pressed together and my hands nervously sliding up and down the length of my thighs, I sat on the far end of the couch and drew a long breath. Even though I knew we needed to talk about how I felt, I didn’t want to say anything. I still wanted everything that was bad to just go away, leaving Luke and me the way things were before.

  I gazed down at the carpet. Seeing his expressions as I said what I had to say would only make matter worse.

  I chewed against the inside of my lip. “We’re going to need to stop having sex,” I murmured.

  “What? Why? What’s going on, Liv?”

  I glanced toward him, and upon seeing the concern in his eyes, I quickly shifted my gaze toward the carpet in front of me. “It isn’t working out.”

  He coughed. “It isn’t working out? What the fuck does that mean? It isn’t working out because it just stopped. We haven’t had sex since Matt was in the accident. It’s been two weeks. Liv.”

  “I just can’t keep doing it,” I said. “I need to…I mean I want to…”

  “You want to what?”

  “I want to make sure we’re still friends.”

  I shifted my eyes to Luke. His eyes had thinned to slits, and he was glaring back at me. My stomach quickly became filled with knots.

  He clenched his fists and tucked them under his biceps. “I fucking swear. So, what happened? What changed?”

  As far as I was concerned, I had no other option but to do what I was doing. If I attempted to continue a sexual relationship with Luke, I had no doubt we would be torn apart for good – I found the thought of sex with him repulsive. Ending our relationship while maintaining our friendship was the only way I could see us continuing.

  And we had to continue.

  Losing Luke altogether would crush me.

  “I said what changed?”

  I realized I had yet to answer him. I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  He offered a simple – but impossible – solution. “We can fix it.”

  It couldn’t be fixed, and I was the only one who realized it. My eyes began to well with tears. “We can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” he growled.

  I chewed on my lip and tried to slow the tears.

  He jumped from the couch. “So, you’re done? Just like that? I’ve got no say? Fuck, Liv. You haven’t even told me why. I can’t…”

  He stepped directly in front of where I was sitting. I stared at his feet, afraid to look into his eyes.

  “I can’t live without you,” he said.

  I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. I loved him more than anything, but I couldn’t change how knowing what his mother did made me feel about having sex with him. I sat trying to convince myself that I wasn’t the bad person – his mother was.

  “I can’t fucking do it. I love you, Liv. We need to fix this,” he pleaded.

  I
glanced up. “I love. I love you, too.”

  His eyes filled with hope. Slowly, they widened.

  “But I can’t fix it,” I said. “We just have to stop.”

  He lowered his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and raised his gaze to meet mine. The hope in his eyes was gone. He looked defeated.

  “I’m not even going to try and explain how you make me feel,” he said. “But I’ll tell you this.”

  I swallowed heavily and stared.

  “Now that I’ve had you, I’ll never stop wanting you. And I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Fuck, Liv. It’s all I fucking know.”

  His jaw muscles tightened. “I’ll never stop loving you. I can’t. But if you say we can only be friends, I’ll agree. You know why?”

  “Do you know why?” he asked, his voice stern and harsh.

  My mouth was too dry to speak. It felt like someone had cut my chest open and removed my heart. I ached. My lips parted. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and attempted to swallow.

  “Yes.” I murmured.

  “Because I can live without the sex. But I can’t live without you.”

  And he turned and walked away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  LUKE

  Although I didn’t know for sure what caused Liv to want to end our relationship, I initially believed it had to have something to do with my sexual desires. However, after sitting on the beach and listening to the waves wash ashore for half the night, I wondered if her learning she was submissive opened an interest within her I wasn’t completely capable of filling. I wasn’t a Dom or a Master, nor did I want to be. I was just some guy who had strange sexual desires.

  Regardless, ending our sexual relationship was what she wanted, therefore I felt compelled to give it to her.

  When I was a teenager and began to spend the majority of my time surfing, I wanted my brother to surf with me. I felt the time spent together would allow us to bond, and hoped it would also serve as a means of us escaping from the lingering thoughts of our mother’s abuse.

  But Matt wasn’t interested. Not in the very least. I complained to my father, and his response stuck with me throughout my adult life.

  “Matt won’t surf, he only wants to ride his stupid bike,” I complained.

  Working on the engine of his old Volkswagen Beetle, he motioned toward the side of the garage.