“How…” I licked my lips slowly, falling easily back into old habits. “…embarrassing.” My heart started to race as I greedily scanned her tight little body, just barely hidden by the green apron. It was my game — the only thing I had going for me. The only thing that numbed me to my past — to everything. Don’t feel sorry for me. I loved every damn minute of it — because it was one more minute I wasn’t thinking about the past.

The past, the past, the past. Ah, there it was, the reason I kept it in my pants now. My promise to Wes, and worse — my promise to myself. She wouldn’t want me to be this way — I was torn between feeling guilty about how I acted and also feeling relieved that at least there was still something that choked the sadness away from my existence.

“It happens,” she replied breathlessly, her eyes widening as she took in my body. I was used to it. I lived for it. I survived on it.

And then, she flipped her hair.

A whiff of perfume hit me square in the face, shaking off any sort of lust I had going for me.

Shit. It was the same perfume.

Shaking, I jerked back forcing a weak laugh. “Anyways, um, can we just have two large caramel lattes? Triple shot and put extra whipped cream on one of them.”

“Oh.” The girl’s face went completely red as she typed in the order and shook her head. “Is that all?”

Her voice was pitifully hopeful.

But I’d already made up my mind.

Or maybe it was my body that was made up first, then my mind. Either way, I felt like puking, like running outside and not stopping until I was either in the music room or on my Harley.

“Yup.” I handed her my credit card, my fingers tensing around the sharp edges of the plastic. “That’s all.”

She swiped, handed it back, muttered asshole under her breath, and I walked around to wait for the cups and make sure she didn’t spit in anything before our coffee made it into my hands.

Within minutes I had our coffee and was already sitting back at the table.

“So…” Kiersten took a slow sip. “How’s life?”

I rolled my eyes. “Can we not do this?”

“Do what?” She shrugged innocently.

“The whole you ask me how I’m doing over and over again and just pray I’ll crack or worse yet, start crying and spouting out all my dirty—” I leaned in. “Little.” I leaned in a bit more “Secrets.”

“Your sex eyes don’t work on me,” Kiersten said, her voice sounding bored as hell.

I shrugged helplessly and took a long sip of coffee. “Worth a shot.”

“Worth getting shot?” Kiersten corrected. “Because that’s what would happen. Wes would shoot you.”

“Wes hates violence,” I defended.

“No, he doesn’t hate it.” Kiersten laughed and looked to the door. “Oh my gosh… is that her?”

“Her who?” Kiersten knew I didn’t do names — I rarely recognized the girls I slept with unless they walked up to me with their shirts lifted over their heads. Okay fine, so it wasn’t that bad, but pretty damn close. I swear it was easier to tell people apart that way.

“Raylynn.” Kiersten lowered her voice. “That’s her!”

“Don’t call her over,” I mumbled under my breath. That bitch was psycho. I slept with her once. One time! And she all but stalked me for three months! Kiersten had really liked her and thought she was pretty; therefore, my opinion didn’t matter. And nothing would make Kiersten happier than to see me settle down and stop whoring around, or so she told me every few days when she felt the urge to mama-bear me. Little did she know it had been months, which felt like years, decades… Oh, hell. Who was I kidding? It felt like death.

“Oh look, she sees me!” Kiersten said happily.

“I wonder if it’s because you’re waving.”

“Stretching.”

“Waving.”

“Raylynn!” Kiersten said in a cheerful voice that sounded like she was a cheerleader in another life. “How have you been?”

“Good.”

All eyes turned to me.

I stared into my coffee. Kiersten kicked me under the table. With a curse I looked up and said, “Yo.”

“Yo?” Kiersten mouthed across the table.

“Er, hi.” Raylynn blushed.

Damn it.

Her pale complexion and bright blonde hair did nothing to hide the fact that she was embarrassed.

I tried again. “How have you been?”

“Busy.” She cleared her throat, her eyes darting between me and my coffee as if waiting for me to ask her to sit down or worse yet, ask her on another date.

And dead silence. Again. I suddenly experienced the exact definition of a pregnant pause.

“Well…” Kiersten cleared her throat loudly then kicked me under the table. “It was great seeing you!”

“You too.” Raylynn looked at me one last time then, shoulders slumping, walked off.

“You ass!” Kiersten kicked my shin again. “And yo? Did you say yo? No one as white as you should ever say that word. Ever. I don’t care if you get kidnapped and the only way to be free is to either say yo or gnaw your own arm off. Gnaw the arm, Gabe. Don’t say…yo.”

“Who said yo?” a male voice interrupted.

“Ah, Wolf.” I teased, happy that I wasn’t alone anymore with Kiersten’s peering eyes and difficult questions.

“Turtle,” he fired back.

“Gabe said yo.”

“Out loud?” Wes all but shouted. “Is he trying to get jumped?”

I groaned into my hands and waited for them to stop talking about me like I wasn’t there.

It was a regular occurrence with them. Kiersten would say something like I’m worried about Gabe, then Wes would say, Is he not eating? and I’d raise my hand and say, He’s just fine, he ate a burrito a half hour ago.

“Guys!” I snapped, and dropped my hands to the table. “I’m fine, everything is fine. I said yo, I’m gangster, deal with it.”

They both stared at me as if I’d just announced I was going to be a monk.

“I heard something this morning.” Wes reached for Kiersten’s coffee and took a long sip then leaned back against the chair. If I wasn’t his best friend I’d effing hate him. He was the ideal All American Football Star. Quarterback, dark blond hair, blue eyes, buff, easy going. Yup, I’d freaking hate him.

“Oh yeah?” My eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Gossip Girl, what did you hear?” I took a long sip of coffee.

“Dry spell.”

I spit out the coffee onto the table and all but choked to death. Damn Lisa, damn family, damn cousin. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“Right.” Wes licked his lips but dropped it. He leaned over and kissed Kiersten on the top of her head, then pulled her silky scarf tighter around her body.

That simple motion — almost made me lose it.

The tightening of a scarf — made me want to end my own life. If people only knew — if only I could trust people enough to tell, to explain, how wrecked I was on the inside.

But no. I was playing a part. I was Gabe. I would never be him again, I would never be my past again.

Kiersten laughed and kissed Wes’s nose.

It was too much. Everything was suddenly too much, and in that moment I knew. It was too much four years ago — my time was up. The storm cloud was coming. “Look guys, I gotta run.”

“Alright.” Kiersten barely took her eyes off Wes. “See you for Taco Tuesday?”

“Yup.” I didn’t turn around. I didn’t wave. I grabbed my shit, and I ran out that door like the fires of hell were licking at my heels.

Because for the first time in four years — the time bomb was about to go off and I wasn’t so sure how I was going to handle everything.

My phone went off with a text.

Puget Sound N: She needs you. Can you call and sing? Or maybe send her a picture text?

Oh look, the bomb… it was ticking.

Me: Yeah. I’ll call in a few.

People will go through their entire lives justifying every damn decision…they’ll fight for all the wrong things, until finally the right thing stares at them square in the face. That’s when the choices start to matter. Because in the end, you’re a creature of habit. So you may want to choose right, but choose wrong in the end — because you’re so damn used to it. It’s tragic, then again, life’s tragic, don’t you think? —Wes M.