The echos of pleasure wandered my mind as I slept. The sex was great as usual, but it was much different. More than the usual fuck-the-stress-away sex we’d usually have. Instead of remembering her nice squishy ass or her highly attractive frame, I remembered her long flowing blond hair, her sweet voice calling out my name. Instead of feeling lust, I felt passion. A need for something more. A wholesome emotion.

And it made my stomach heavy like lead.

I didn’t know why at the time, but the thought of us as a couple gave me bouts of anxiety I never felt before. It baffled me. I dove off scaffoldings, drove myself through flaming tables, and performed in front of hundreds of people, but this is making me feel like my stomach is gonna explode. I liked Carter. More than just physical, I know it. But something in me was saying that it wasn’t a good idea.

I had enough of the inner war within myself, so I opened my eyes, adjusting to the sunlight that managed to peek through my curtains. We were on the couch, nude and only covered by a light sheet, but the heating was on, and I made sure to do plenty of heat-making last night…

Carter was still soundly asleep, clinging onto me for dear life. I obliged and held her back, looking at her sleeping soundly for a while. The couch could barely fit me, so the two of us made do in this small space. Still, it was nice. I loved the feeling of her skin against mine. This was far better than some hookups. But the fear gripped me like a noose around my neck.

I managed to be nimble and get off the couch, allowing Carter to sleep soundly as I got my boxers on. After getting at least some clothing on, I decided to cook us breakfast. After a stretch, and a few scratches around my hairy body, I walked to the kitchen to look at what could I make. Naturally, my refrigerator was barren, only having some leftovers, booze, OJ, and a half-used carton of eggs. Truly, a bachelor's dream. I grabbed whatever was left of my bread, plopped it in the toaster, and grabbed a few eggs to cook. Carter, thankfully, Isn’t picky. As I cooked I heard her walk in, lazily groaning as she wrapped her arms around my waist. She borrowed my shirt, so one could assume there was nothing under it. “Morning,” I said.

She laughed. “It’s noon, actually.”

I rolled my eyes at the correction. “Whatever. I’m making us breakfast.”

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“Mhm…” She smacked my ass as she walked over to the counter, making me give her a playful face.

“What’s your plans for the day?” I asked.

Carter gave a shrug as she cleared the curst from her eyes. “I dunno. I never understood why Jim even closes the school on Tuesdays anyway.”

“He goes on his trips to Minneapolis. Something about his dealing with his casino.”

“I forgot the motherfucker owns a damn casino. Could he not be any more of a dick?”

“He could be racist,” I answered plainly.

“That remains to be seen…”

We both lightly chuckled as I scrambled the slowly solidifying eggs. We began small talk, or what resembled it, chatting about the state of Hulwater. I remarked about the many microaggressions I’ve received in the few months I’ve been there, so I wasn’t having a great year. I just missed home most importantly. Carter, living here longer than I, had a few more complaints while I set the plate for the both of us. That makes sense, considering her confession last night.

We ate, playing immature games like footies or the odd dick joke. It was nice. It filled me with warmth as I enjoyed my time with her. Eventually, she had to go. With a kiss and a hug, she walked out, heading over to the bus stop nearby to head home.

With nothing better to do, I decided to finally bite the bullet and call my mom. My dad should’ve been nearby I thought, so I’ll be killing two birds with one stone.

The dial tone rang. It felt like an eternity. The pit in my stomach increased with each time it rang. I almost hung up when I finally heard my mother speak.

“Kris…Oh my god.”

She sounded worried and relieved. She was always pretty quiet, so the rare times she spoke a little louder were so odd. “Xavier! Kris is on the phone!”

I stammered, guilt creeping into me. “I’m sorry. I-I had no excuse to go awol, but things are kinda bad here, and I don’t want to burden you–”

My dad interrupted since I was on speaker now. “You know we love you. Your problems are our problems.”

“T-That’s the issue. I don’t want to just get bailed out by you guys all the time. I’m not exactly rock bottom or anything.”

“Kris,” Mom started. “You can tell us anything.”

After a bit of a mental argument, I relented. “Ok, so…maybe I’m hitting rock bottom. But not really! Just kinda-semi-rock bottom. Ya know?”

Dad came closer to the phone. “I get it. Listen, I was there. I lived off free leftovers from the ramen shop. When I was in Oakland, I just had canned tuna. I understand. But it’s important to use your resources. Nobody is above help, Kris.”

I sighed. “Yeah.”

I spelled my heart out, explaining things had gotten worse since I last called. “Look...

I was on the brink of crying, and it sucked. I felt like I was cut all over my body. I was sore when I finished ranting. And my parents just listened and resonated with me. After explaining they could see what they could do, We hung up.

Great.