Super Not Into You Page 12

  Fuck me like a man.

  I do. I fuck her like only a man can. My body slapping against hers until both of our crotches ache from the friction. We are both starting to sweat heavily, leaving the bed and blankets soaked with our sweat but doesn’t stop us from having one of the best shared orgasms ever. And I mean ever. I don’t think anybody in the world has had an orgasm as ecstatic as the one Scout and I share this morning in our bubble of peace.

  But don’t they say that all good things have to come to an end.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bryan

  “Palir just messaged me,” Scout says breathlessly as she looks at her phone for the first time in the morning.

  With our bubble popped, I give in and interact with the outside world. I turn my phone back on and listen to Palir’s voicemails.

  Fuck.

  Not a single encouraging word is said in his voice messages. Not a single goddamn one.

  “You call me back right now, Bryan, or you are going to end up losing everything, including me. I have to get paid and I can’t get paid if my best friend has committed social suicide. Or regular suicide. Please don’t commit suicide and call me the fuck back, Bryan, I’m freaking out over here!”

  Scout looks at me with a worried look on her face. “What’s going on? Palir just sent me a ton of messages demanding I have you call him.”

  “I… might be fucked… and it may have been my fault.”

  I call Palir to meet me up at my place and thirty minutes later, welcome the man who is red in the face with anger and stress.

  “What the fuck happened?” he shouts. “For fuck’s sake, Bryan, I’ve been getting bombarded all day with calls about how you lied about being drunk, how you hate your parents, and the person behind all of this is you!?”

  “What are you talking about? There’s no way anybody could have heard what Scout and I were talking about last night unless they were in the car with us,” I try explaining. “Oh wait, we took an uber. Shit.”

  He groans, “Did you not realize that the driver recorded everything you said? It was YOU. Your voice. You were the one complaining about your parents and how they forced you to lie about being drunk at the fundraising event.”

  “How? How is that possible?” Scout asks.

  I put my hand on her shoulder. Scout tries to slow her breathing, so she doesn’t add any more stress to the situation.

  “I… I am at a loss. Scout, you’re supposed to be making sure he doesn’t do or say anything stupid. And you, why are you letting Scout get drunk? If people see her drunk in public, they’re going to start thinking you’re not far off from falling off your imaginary wagon.”

  “Fuck that, Palir, how much of our conversation was recorded?”

  “Enough. Why?”

  “Because last night, I confessed to Scout that I have dyslexia. And it wasn’t shortly after I admitted to not being drunk at the charity event.”

  Palir places both of his hands on my face and squishes it as if he’s talking to a kid who’s refusing to pay attention.

  “Buddy, Bryan, pal… There are more important things going on right now than people thinking you can’t read. Alright? The person in charge of fixing your public image was photographed drunk out of her mind with a person who fucked her organization’s image by being drunk. Do I need to explain that further or are you starting to understand why your dyslexia is pretty fucking low on the list of priorities right now? People are demanding answers.”

  “Fuck,” Scout groans, “now I’m fucked. Those pictures of me… the kids are going to see that. Goddamnit.”

  “Bryan, people want to know why you lied about being drunk at the charity event. They want to know why you said your parents made you lie. People have no idea what to think of you anymore, you have gone from redeemable to absolutely incomprehensible. Don’t you get that? If you don’t explain yourself to the public, people are going to start making their own assumptions about this and once that happens, you’re screwed. Scout, you’re screwed. We’re all screwed.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  Palir scratches his head and cartoonishly paces around my bedroom floor. The air conditioning in my home is blasting but that isn’t keeping Palir from putting his sweat gland to work. He is looking as stressed as a person can possibly be without having a heart attack at the same time.

  “You’ve got to come clean. About everything.”

  “Hold on there,” Scout interrupts, “even us?”

  “Fuck. I don’t know,” he stutters, “maybe not. You have to look human. Lying about a relationship isn’t going to help with that. So, we’re going to continue playing along with your relationship, marriage is going to happen but ya don’t know when, all of that. But… you’ve got to come clean about the charity event.”

  I can’t do that. Embarrass myself in front of hundreds of people. Reveal to the world that I got my football scholarship despite never doing any of my own work academically. This isn’t just going to embarrass me but everyone my name has ever touched.

  “There has to be another way,” I plead with Palir. “Any other way.”

  “So, you can’t read well. Big fuckin’ deal. People have been hearing you talk about how you weren’t actually drunk that day. They’ve been listening to you say that all morning, that is now a fact in their heads. You were not drunk, and everyone knows it. So, you tell me how you want me to pull ‘another way’ out of my ass because frankly, I can’t think of a way.”

  “But —”

  “But nothing! You know who were the first people to call me after the recording came out? Your parents. They’ve been hounding me all damn day, asking me to find out what we’re going to tell the public, because now their image is being tainted. You blaming them for butchering your appearance at the charity event is making them look like a couple of Joe Jacksons, except Joe Jackson had a motive. If you don’t explain to people why your parents made you lie about being drunk, people are going to start thinking they’re just evil rich assholes.”

  “That’s not too far off from the truth,” I murmur.

  “FINE. But tell them that! I don’t give two shits about what you call your Mom and Dad. I only care about you. But you have to figure out what you’re going to tell people and you have to keep me and Scout involved, alright?”

  I nod.

  “Then what is the goddamn plan?”

  Scout places her arms around me, offering the only solace I think I’ll be feeling all day after the popping of our peaceful morning bubble.

  “Everyone is going to call me an idiot if I come out as dyslexic.”

  “Bryan, nobody is going to do that,” Scout assures me.

  Palir agrees. “If you’re not coming out as a pedophile or murderer, people aren’t going to care all that much. Being dyslexic isn’t the big news sensation you think it is.”

  “It is to me!” I finally snap. “When I was a kid, everyone thought I was an idiot. People called me terrible things because I couldn’t read basic words off school banners or movie billboards. You don’t think that people on the internet are going to start making memes about how I can hide lies for so long or about how I can’t read. People make fun of Mike Tyson for his voice, you don’t think people are going to destroy me for not being able to do something most seven-year-olds can?”

  “You shouldn’t be so worried about memes,” Scout says. “Besides, like I said, I’d be more than happy to help you with your reading.”

  “Just stop!” I yell, jumping off the couch. “I told you yesterday I don’t need to learn how to read, alright?”

  I mean what I say, but my tone comes off as much more aggressive than I intend. The look on Scout’s face says it all. I have let my own shortcomings mutate into something ugly that I never wanted to be a part of me.

  “Scout, I’m sorry —”

  “Talk to me when you’ve calmed down.”

  Scout gathers her things quickly and leaves. I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, b
ut she was pushing me. My dyslexia is a very sensitive subject and I thought that the many times I told her that would have gotten through to her, but she’s still bothering me about it. I want her to stay but I’m not going to apologize for this. She knew not to bring that up.

  Palir stays behind only so I can inform him on what my plan is. But I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Scout

  He’s going to call me once he’s calmed down.

  I’m not going to make the first move this time. I’ve helped him enough as it is, with the charity, the fake engagement, I even offered to help him read which is something nobody should ever have to offer an adult. I’m not holding that against him. I just want to help. He’s a good person and really doesn’t deserve to have his life placed under a microscope just because he’s a star football player.

  There aren’t many things that could dampen my mood even further. I already have to walk home just to clear my head but waiting on my porch is the devil in the flesh.

  “There she is,” Grady chuckles. “I figured you’d be coming home after… well, I’m sure you’ve heard. Anyway, it’s good to see you.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to reciprocate that notion, Grady. I… I hate you. You know this.”

  “Right, right. That’s not something that needs to be said again, but something I think you’d like to have repeated to you is my offer.”

  “What offer?”

  “Fucking me for money for your charity, of course.”

  “Why would —”

  “Come on, Scout. Don’t be an idiot. You really think people are going to be diving over competitors to donate money to your case? Because you’ve decided to spend your time and life with that NFL loser, your organization is going to suffer. You’re getting skewered online, Scout. People think you’re a bad influence. A drunken tramp craving NFL cock. So, you’re not going to be offered a lot of money in the near future. I’m basically throwing you free money, all you have to do is —”

  “Manage to get wet enough to allow your pathetic pecker back inside me? Yeah, I’ll pass.”

  Grady blocks me from the entrance to my own home and places his hands on my hips.

  “Come on, Scout. Just one quickie and I’ll save your organization. Maybe I can convince you to earn more money on a regular basis. I’ve really been craving you lately. I’ve been thinking of the nights we spent together where we just laid in bed naked and you’d suck my dick. You were really good at taking a load in the face. I wonder how much better you’ve gotten. Think about the kids, Scout, don’t you want them to be taken care of?”

  “Go to hell, you sick fuck. How dare you try to use my love for children in need as leverage for fucking me. I’m never fucking you again. I’m having good sex now. Sex where both participants orgasm. I would never go back to having selfish, disappointing sex with a three pump man like you ever again. That tiny dick of yours never felt good. It wasn’t fun to suck on, it barely felt like my own pinkie inside of me, and it looks like a hairy shrimp. Go fuck yourself and don’t you dare ask me again.”

  “Jesus, do you really think I’m that fucked up? I’m not a supervillain, I’m just —”

  “Stop right there. You are a supervillain. Instead of donating to my charity out of the good of your heart, if you have one, you’re expecting me to sell my body. I want nothing to do with you. Even if you donated money to my charity, I’d want nothing to do with you. I just want you to be a better human. Not for me, but for your own sake. Now get the hell of my property or I will beat the ever loving shit out of you.”

  I push Grady out of the way, but don’t get my keys out until he’s completely off my property. Unfortunately, I turn around to see him standing just inches behind me.

  “If you’re going to be like that, I guess I’m just going to have to sit back with a bowl of popcorn and watch your future husband to be go in flames and get torn apart by the trolls of the internet. There’s no coming back for him,” he threatens.

  “He’s going to explain everything,” I tell him.

  He laughs boisterously. “That’s if he gets the chance. You think there isn’t more stuff he’s been hiding from the public? From you? I’ve got dirt on your beloved betrothed and, sadly, you just ruined the one chance of it not getting out. I suppose I should have mentioned that earlier, but you weren’t exactly being a gracious host, you didn’t even invite me in for some coffee.”

  “Any coffee you’re getting is being thrown from the pot directly onto that furry mess you call your penis. Really, Grady, I challenge you to go online and start asking random people to rate pictures of your dick. I want you to get an objective judgement of that shrimp dick you’re so proud of for some reason. Your money is the only reason you’ve ever gotten laid. You’re average looking, that doesn’t make you any different from many other average guys, especially not with your lack of sex skills and tiny rancid dick.”

  “If that’s how you want to be,” he says raising his hands and walking backwards to his car. “I hope you feel good knowing that you ruined his career, Scout. I know I do.”

  I watch him take forever to climb into his car and drive away to his little troll cave.

  There’s nothing he could have on Bryan. He doesn’t have any connections to sports. If you need money, Grady’s the guy to go to, but I can’t think of any reason why he would have dirt on a well-known football star. What information could he have that reputable news outlets wouldn’t? It has to be a bluff.

  Since I’m home, I try to unwind but I am rife with manic energy. I clean my house top to bottom, getting every nook and cranny patched with old cat hair. I’ve been going out so often with Bryan that I haven’t been able to really look after my own space. I like seeing my place get cleaner by the hour, but I’m still not losing any of the manic energy flowing within me.

  I have to call Bryan.

  He’s supposed to call me back and apologize for the manner in which he spoke to me. I want to warn him, but I want to have my self-respect in tact at least. I don’t deserve to be treated the way he treated me. But Bryan doesn’t deserve to be treated any worse by the public and news outlets.

  Fuck. Fine.

  If I have to be the adult, I’ll be the adult. I pick up my phone and call him, waiting three rings for someone to pick up.

  “Scout, kid, it’s Palir. Your boy is… he’s not feeling himself right now.”

  Shit. Things must be worse than I though. I ask Palir to put Bryan on the phone, but it takes some doing from his end. I can hear the two of them bickering away from the phone’s receiver, but soon hear someone pick the phone up.

  “Bryan, is that you?”

  After a brief pause, he confirms that it’s him on the other side of the phone.

  “Look, I know things are already kicking your ass, but I had to let you know that Grady was just at my place. He was saying he had dirt on you and was going to leak it. I don’t know what he could have been talking about but —”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he says coldly.

  “What do you mean? It doesn’t matter? Doesn’t Palir —”

  He cuts me off again and tells me that he and Palir haven’t come up with a solid plan yet.

  “Look,” he tells me, “I don’t think Grady has any dirt on me but if he does, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now. My career is over. Everything in my life is over.”

  “Ah, come on, don’t talk like that,” I hear Palir say. He says more encouraging words to Bryan, but Bryan doesn’t respond to anything he says.

  “Goodbye, Scout.”

  He hangs up on me without saying anything else about the predicament we’re in, leaving me still vibrating from the anxiety of everything that’s going on. Bryan said everything in his life is over. Does that include his relationship with me?

  Just as I was starting to feel comfortable with him, the world has to come up and take this from us. From me. I was telling myself I would
let loose and allow someone in my life, romantically. And right then and there, he decides to end things. I’m a jinx.

  If that’s how our relationship is ending, that has to be the worst break up I’ve ever been a participant of. That can’t have been satisfying for him, it definitely wasn't for me. So, what are either of us getting from being apart?

  Maybe it’s denial but I don’t want to believe that we’re over just like that, over a phone call where he didn’t even sound like himself. I’d be quicker to believe that a robot with his voice had answered that call. He just didn’t sound like the Bryan I’ve come to know and… love. I’ve felt true love with him, and I don’t want to throw that down the drain.

  Bryan and I are the only people who could truly understand each other since we’re in the same situation. We’re attached. We’ve been attached since he ruined my charity event. I may have been sour about it back then but now that I know the whole story, I understand him. I know how much it must have pained him to have gone through the many hardships he’s had to face this past year.

  I’m the only one who can help him.

  I’m not going to let him face all of this on his own. He may need his space for a day or two, it’ll give me time to get back to work for some time. But as soon as he’s ready to talk, and I mean talk for real, I’ll be ready for him. Whatever he or Palir need me to do, I’ll be sure to throw myself entirely at whatever problem they have ready for me.

  I have to. After all, I am Bryan’s fake wife to be.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bryan

  I’m done with this world. The world of fame. Being in the public eye. Under the scrutiny of anyone with a smartphone and internet access.

  The world doesn’t need me. I’m a football player, not a brain surgeon or biochemist. I’m never going to do anything important with my life. I catch a ball and run with it for money. I’m not changing lives.

  Everything seems grey lately. And it’s not just the unexpected cloudy weather. Everything in my home seems to have lost its color. I’ve been spending my last couple of days in total silence and isolation. With the exception of course, of Palir. Part of me wants to think that it’s his undying friendship that is keeping him here, but I know that it’s just my public image he’s taking care of. If I don’t make money, he doesn’t make money. And in enough time, he’ll be moving on. Just like everyone else should.