Chapter 3 #2
The Core Four used to tease me, because even after six months of dating, I spent more time with Bubba than Annie.
They’d tell us we looked more like a couple than either of us did with our chosen partners.
I think I may have felt it then, but it felt too strong to name.
Eventually, Annie said she had enough. We lived together for a few weeks before the big blowup.
I came home after work one night, and she saw I changed my phone background to a picture of Bubba and me.
She started yelling about playing second fiddle to a man.
She even said I wasn’t good in bed, and that hurt worse than anything, because I knew it was true.
I tried to make her feel good, but every movement felt wrong.
We never felt right. Bubba said sex with someone I loved would leave me with an overwhelming sense of completion, but once my load was shot, all I felt was shame.
Shame for doing something I knew was wrong. Why did it feel so wrong?
After the breakup, we had to put Auntie Dot in hospice, and I didn’t want to move back home with Momma, because moving home meant leaving Bubba, and I could never leave him.
Bubba asked Faith if I could move into their spare room.
Faith said it was the final nail in their marital coffin.
I didn’t understand it then, but I get it now.
Unintentionally, I was worming my way into their marriage, the same way Ezra is weaseling his way between Bubba and me.
Their marriage was already on the rocks, but having experienced it for myself now, it must’ve sucked.
Faith moved out the day I moved in, and Bubba and I haven’t lived apart since, except for the handful of weeks I went away a few months ago, after Bubba told me how he felt and I got scared.
We were good for a while. Bubba would wake me each morning with breakfast in bed, like I did something along the way to earn that level of care.
We rode to work together, spending all day shooting the shit with our buddies at the shop, and then we would come home and spend our evenings side by side on the sofa.
At some point, I started sleeping in his bed, because it felt nice not to be so alone.
Then, D-Day.
We were lying in bed, him asking me about the end of my relationship with Annie, me dodging his questions.
When we were together, I didn’t like wasting time talking about her.
She already moved on, and I had my best friend.
I didn’t want to think of anyone but us when we were in our bubble.
As the conversation kept going, he got vulgar, asking about our sex life, asking what I liked her to do to me.
Bubba and I have always been open books, so I knew I ought to be open about that as well.
I told him Annie and I only ever tried to fuck a few times, and each time, it felt like putting square pegs into round holes. I couldn’t stay hard for shit, and the one or two times I was able to get it up, my dick would go limp the second she touched me.
I told him about how, when I fucked her, every sensation felt wrong, and my mind kept going back to him.
Him and me at work, and the way he would pull me down on his lap sometimes, during our lunch break.
The way my mind would wander to him and me swimming in his inflatable four-feet-deep pool while the sun baked our pale skin until we were both blistered red.
I told him, most of all, I thought about the coveralls he wears at work. The ones that cling all over.
Bubba, Bubba, Bubba.
He listened as I explained it all, but in the end, all he did was stare sadly into my eyes, gently scratched my bald head, and said, “Oh, Johnny Boy,” like I was the most pitiful soul in the world. His touch was soft, but his hands felt like fire the longer he held on.
Then my best friend—my Bubba—said three of the prettiest words in the world to me, scaring the hell out of me to the point I could barely move.
He leaned in real close and said the words again, pressing a tender kiss to my lips.
We were motionless for a few seconds, and then he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, and I didn’t want him to say those words again, so I opened my mouth to change the subject.
That’s what I told myself, at least. We were mouth to mouth already, and when Bubba shut his lips, they wrapped around mine, I whimpered into his mouth.
I don’t remember much else about the moment, but I remember the raw, needy sounds that escaped me, and how he swallowed them down smooth like whiskey.
“Bubba,” I said, but I didn’t have anything to follow it with, so I just kept moving my mouth with his.
Eventually, my wits returned, and my eyes bulged like saucers.
It scared the hell out of me, because I wasn’t supposed to be kissing on boys.
That wasn’t who I was, not that there was anything wrong with it.
You’d think there was by the way I reacted, though, because in a rush, I pushed and kicked against the mattress to get away, falling off the bed and onto my ass, staring in horror at my best friend’s heartbroken expression as he loomed over me.
I was scared, because the kiss rocked me to my core.
It made me think of all the ways I’ve ever felt with Bubba.
The way his arms fit perfectly around me as we snuggled before sleep.
The way my heart slammed harder when he’d walk into the bedroom wearing only his boxers, every single night.
I got scared, so I ran back home to Dunsberry and hid in my childhood home, letting Momma dote on me, telling me everything was going to be okay, because I was the sweetest man she knew.
She didn’t know too many men, but she said it like she meant it, and that was enough for me.
I worked the farm with Pete and Barrett, but my heart kept hurting for Bubba.
Pete figured I was back to stay, but I don’t think I ever really planned on being gone long.
I just needed a moment to breathe. A second to sort out my feelings.
When I finally built up my courage and headed back home to Bubba, I didn’t know what I wanted with him, but I knew I wanted him in my life.
I knew I wanted to kiss him again. Before the engine died down, I jumped out of the truck, rushed up the steps to the trailer, and yanked the door open, ready to run into my future.
I was too late.
He replaced me.
He fuckin’ threw me away. For some hot piece of ass who sucks up the oxygen like a vacuum cleaner with his slutty tops, shorter-than-short shorts, and an ass you could bounce a dollar bill off of.
I know Bubba says I’ve got a cute butt, but after touching Ezra’s a minute ago, I don’t think it even comes close.
I know I was wrong for leaving, but he was supposed to wait for me.
He wasn’t supposed to give up on me, because even though I know I ain’t worth much, I’m worth fighting for.
He knew I was struggling. He knew I couldn’t tell up from down.
I liked Annie. I liked looking at her, because she was easy on the eyes.
I liked talking to her, because she could talk my ear off and still have me asking to hear more.
But sexually? I don’t think I ever felt that way for her.
She’s a good woman who deserves to be desired, but I never felt desire for her.
I figured I just had a low sex drive, but sometimes, when I look at Bubba, my cock gets so fuckin’ hard, it could probably cut steel.
When I look at him now, I feel it. Desire.
If I’m being brutally honest with myself, I think I feel it for Ezra too.
The feelings are conflicting. I hate him.
I hate him for his snarky comments and all the cruel digs he throws my way.
That fuckin’ ass, though. Jesus Christ. I almost shot my load while I was touching it.
I had to walk away so I wouldn’t cream my jeans.
God. If Ezra ever heard me saying, “Cream my jeans,” he’d never let me hear the end of it.
His little cock was twitching and everything.
I’ve seen it so many times, thanks to his casual public masturbation.
I’ve also seen it on my phone a few times.
Ezra doesn’t know I’ve been subscribed to his OnlyFans for the last two months.
He has no idea I watch every live stream, hoping to find something to turn Bubba off him.
A soundbyte so damning, Bubba could never overlook it.
I’ve listened with earbuds in, recording every scene, needing to find a way to get him out of my life and away from Bubba.
Every day, he logs on. Every day, he does his psychic readings.
Every single day, he pulls out his cock and strokes it to completion.
I don’t watch him for pleasure, because I still don’t know where I rest on the rainbow—if I even rest on it at all—but I do watch him.
I keep watching him.
“Where the fuck am I supposed to sit?” His voice pulls me out of my head and back to the present, sounding loud and shrill to the point I doubt we’ll catch any fish today,
Blinking, I try to break the foggy haze his new speedo has me in. I don’t know if it’s the color pattern or what, but I’m pretty sure they’ve got some hypnotic optical illusion effect, because it feels like my eyes can’t physically look away.
“Huh?”
He points into the boat. “There are only two seats. Where the hell did you think I was going to sit when you planned this? On the floor?”
“I didn’t plan for you to be here at all,” I remind him.
“And that was your first mistake,” he says, nodding. “I know what you were doing. You’re trying to drive a wedge between Bubba and me.”
“Ezzy,” Bubba warns, squeezing his shoulder.
Ezra sighs. “Fine. Fuck it, fine, I take it back. I’m sorry, Johnny.”