Page 118 of Stroked Hard
I don’t want to fall in love.
It’s a shame I already have.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
HOLLIS
Dancing with the Stars wants me.
GQ wants me.
ESPN wants me.
Wheaties wants me.
Puma wants me.
Buick kicked Matthew “all right, all right, all right” McConaughey to the curb and wants me.
Fuck . . . every endorsement ranging from The Mattress King to Chibani toThe Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallonwants me.
But the one fucking person I want the most, doesn’t.
What kind of shitty luck is that?
I don’t want to fall in love.
What she was really saying was she doesn’t want to fall in love with me. I’m not a dumbass. I could see it in her eyes.
Dinner with my family keeps playing over and over in my head. The minute we started talking about the accident, her demeanor changed. I know my family made it seem like they didn’t hold anything against me, which I know they don’t, but those five words keep ringing through my head . . .
You were texting and driving?
That’s all she asked. I was texting and driving. I almost hit another car, but instead hit a tree, ending my sister’s career. My parents praised me for rising from my fall, but Melony stayed silent while my dad continued to rave about me.
What was she thinking?
Did she think I was the monster I thought myself to be? A horrible person? Did she believe I should still feel guilty? Am I the one she thinks should have lost their ability to walk and not my sister?
Does she not want to fall in love with me because she doesn’t trust me to take care of her? Hell, after that story, I wouldn’t trust myself. I believe people can find error in their ways, but what I did, what I took away, is that too much for Melony to handle?
Hell, it has to be.
It’s the only reason I can think of why I’m back in my condo, Taco licking his balls next to me, with an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. Winning a gold medal has never felt so fucking lousy.
“How do your balls taste?” I ask Taco who lifts his head to glance my way. He licks his snout and I almost puke in my mouth. “That good, huh?”
While I was gone, he stayed with my trusted dog-sitter, and when I went to pick him up, he acted as if he didn’t know me. It was just another kick to the crotch.
“Bet you my balls taste better than yours, but I’m not into bestiality, so we’ll never really know, now will we?”
There is a knock at my door, pulling me away from the disgusting sound of my dog lapping up at his testicles. He doesn’t even bother barking, he’s too invested in the taste of his nut sac.
Hoping it might be Melony quickly vanishes. That’s been wiped away since she refuses to answer me in any form. When she wants to cut someone out of her life, she’s damn good at it.
Getting up, I don’t bother putting on a shirt. What’s the point? Everyone has seen me with it off and in way worse than a pair of sweats. The moment you step in front of a camera wearing only a pair of underwear, you pretty much don’t care what people see you in.
I open the door and Reese is standing there with his arm around Paisley. Good for fucking them, they worked everything out.
