Rich Groom (The Dirty Thirty Pledge 1)

“What does that mean?” I asked Glenn.

He pressed his lips together, and shook his head. I looked over at Wallace, who had been curiously silent the whole time. “What the fuck does this mean?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It is obviously not fucking nothing,” I spat back.

Glenn finally shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. You asked. Frankie’s birthday is in a month. We didn’t know if he’d be single by then, but we wanted to be prepared. Why wait till thirty when you can do it now? Now and thirty. Hell, we might do it every year. Guys get tired of blue balls, you know.”

Blood rushed to my face, and I felt utterly humiliated. Frankie and I hadn’t had sex in a while. We’d both been busy, he’d had a lot of away games and I’d been crazed with rehearsals. The sex we did have was good. But maybe I had been wrong. I sensed him behind me and turned. He was there, and his face was blank. “You knew? You knew they were planning this?”

He nods.

“And?”

“And what?” he said. “Making plans doesn’t mean going through with them.”

“That’s not what it means to me,” I said. “It means that you’re not happy. And it means that this,” I gestured between us, “doesn’t mean anything to you. My roommate, Frankie?”

He glared at Glenn, but said nothing.

“Okay. Guess that’s it then. Go ahead, you have my permission to fuck your way across campus. See if I care.”

“Now that’s a good girlfriend,” Glenn said, laughing, and Wallace laughed too.

“No,” I said. “That’s a good ex-girlfriend.” Then I walked away. Frankie called after me, but he didn’t follow me, and that was it. I got a few things from his dorm room while he wasn’t there, and he never called. Maybe he figured that I would. But I couldn’t, I was too busy crying my heart out. And I couldn’t do it anymore. Everything on that campus reminded me of him. My music was dead, and I couldn’t revive it. So I went home. I told myself it was just for a little bit. A break. But I never went back.

A song on the radio draws me back to the present. It’s the original version of the song we danced to last night, a ballad called “What About Tonight.” It’s a sexy song that asks the question, what if we just forget everything for the night. Seems fitting.

Everyone in this town still treats me like we’re still connected. Every time he came to town, someone made sure that I knew about it. Plenty of people still ask me what Frankie’s been up to. Like it hasn’t been eight years since we broke up and my heart was broken. He never sought me out in the time he’s spent in Green Hills since then, and I never went to see him either. We’re both at fault.

We talked a little bit about it last night, and yet we didn’t. I need to, though. I can already tell that Frankie is different. College Frankie would never have even brought the subject up, let alone admitted that he was an ass. Who knows what was going through his head that night? But I need to ask, because I’ve missed him, and there’s nothing I want more than to spend time with him.

However, we need to clear the air. Really clear it. Move past it. I may have rushed into judging him, and he might not have been thinking clearly. We both made mistakes, but we can own up to them. At least I think we can.

I need to see if he’s mature enough to take on problems like the ones I have. Until then, he doesn’t have to know. No one knows. Not anyone. The small amount of money I’m going to get for playing the festival will help a little, but in the meantime, I’m going to have to stretch my money until next payday. I’ve been working at the bookstore for years. I’m happy there, I’m comfortable there. But I need more. Clearly I’m not making ends meet.

I flick open my email on my phone, and check for responses to the job applications that I’ve sent out. I’ve been plastering the town with them, basically. Anything that pays more and that I’m qualified for. There’s nothing new, but I should have expected that. It’s Saturday. The one day off. And yet having downtime makes me nervous. I should be doing something to help this. At the very least I’ll go through that stack of bills and organize them. And I’ll apply for any job that I haven’t found yet. A lot of new jobs are posted on Friday and I haven’t had a chance to check the boards.

Another song comes on, and old classic that I used to play with Frankie, and I’m drawn back to the memories again. I need to call him. To tell him that I want to see him. Being held by him last night, kissing him, my body wants more of that. I want more of that, even if it’s a ridiculously bad idea.