Have you met Tom and Mack yet?
“You placed a bet to fuck me by your birthday…forgive me, am I supposed to be fucking flattered by this?”
I winced after every sharp word. “When you put it like that, I know it sounds fucked up, but I swear I didn’t agree to it, I just let the others think I had to shut them up. Hindsight I should have made it clear I wanted nothing to do with it. What I feel is real, Tom. Nothing to do with a fucking bet. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you.”
Tom dropped the case of bottles on to the counter as if he only just realized he was still cradling them. He worked his jaw like he was trying to chew glass, but eventually he said, “Oh, the games of little boys. I applaud you, Mack, you got me. Enjoy your winnings.” He announced. And he was back to calling me Mack and though he’d overheard something shitty, I would have preferred he never hear…ever, it’s my name from his thinned-out lips that bothered me the most. He called me Mack when he wanted to put distance between us.
My panic increased, I couldn’t believe I’d screwed up this badly.
I stepped into his path when he tried to move around me.
“Get out of the way, Mack. I’m leaving.”
“Not like this. Don’t go like this, not over something funny we can laugh about later.”
“Humiliating me is funny? Placing a bet with your friends on when you could nail me is laughable?” After each grated word I felt his anger tearing at my insides like a claw hammer leaving my guts exposed. This had gone to shit so fast my head was still spinning and I couldn’t see any angle to fix it.
“Did you take pictures to send to the press too?”
“Fuck no! Tom, please, don’t. I promise you it wasn’t anything like that. I love you, I would never humiliate you.”
He didn’t so much as pause at my declaration. He looked right through me. “Forgive me for not believing a word that comes out of your mouth. Now get the fuck out of the way, you don’t want me to make a scene at your own party.”
“Fuck the party. We’ll both leave. We’ll go to your place and talk about this.”
“As far as I’m concerned we’ve nothing more to say.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Bet you I do.”
Ouch. Direct hit. Point made. Painful as fuck.