Three Strikes Ch. 14

The one regret that changed everything.

It was eight o'clock in the morning and the contractors were back to work, filling my house with the obnoxious noise of renovations. I crumpled my pillow into a ball and shoved my face into it as I let out a frustrated cry. Lately, I'd been spending most nights with Aaron since my house is basically nothing but bones with a bedroom, but after Friday night, I was basically exiled until I figured out how to fix things with Donovan. The bastards didn't care if I personally fixed my relationship with him, they only cared about themselves and if Donovan hated them.

That meant I was back at my house; where the bathrooms had no doors, the kitchen was gutted, the floors were plywood, and the walls were studs. It was barely livable. I shouldn't have been living there, but I was. Of course, neither living in this construction hellhole nor getting the cold shoulder from my best friends were the reasons for screaming into my pillow.

Donovan. Sweet, sexy, smart, funny, sassy, and smoking hot, Donovan.

The things I'd said, the look on his face, and the hurt in his green eyes. Those were the reasons I'd screamed into the dark abyss of my feather pillow.

I'm surprised I heard the chirp of my phone (indicating I had a text) over my release of emotions, but I did. I didn't want to look because I had a good idea who it was and he wasn't anyone I wanted to talk to.

I was confident it wasn't from any of my friends, and it definitely couldn't have been from my boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend (I couldn't bring myself to use that term, not yet). One would think Donovan had made himself clear, but I hadn't quite reached the acceptance stage.

It was funny because, in the past, none of my breakups had that effect on me. If they wanted to break up, I said, 'okay, good times' and gave them a handshake before they walked out of the door. I never thought twice about the split. Donovan was the first person I actually wanted to date and spend time with, but old habits die hard.

I grabbed my phone while holding on to a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he was texting me. There was a strong internal battle raging as to whether or not to look at the phone. On one hand, if I didn't look then the possibility of Donovan wanting me back was alive and well, but if I looked, I'd know it wasn't him.

It wasn't him. It was Davis.

Fucking Davis Hollingsworth.

*** *** *** ***

I'd met Davis the previous week, about a potential commercial remodel job. The job was a big one and would keep me busy for a while, if I could get it. It was a hospital that was going to undergo not only extensive remodeling, but additions, which was why they needed me. Davis worked for Samaritan Health Corp. and was in charge of overseeing the entire project, including hiring contractors such as myself.

I'd never been one to suck up, but it was a big job and I really wanted it. I was respected in my field but was still considered a small fish. This contract would bump me up considerably. Life might not revolve around your success but that wasn't going to stop me from trying to climb that ladder. Having the hospital job in my portfolio would allow me the opportunity to pick better, more sustainable jobs, which was why I allowed him to leach onto me. Since he wasn't local, he asked if I'd show him around. I didn't want to, but decided I needed to be friendly. As far as mistakes go, friending Davis had been a big one and I hadn't been able to shake him since. I didn't tell him about the Friday night game, but I'd accidently let it slip that I was going out with friends that evening, so he invited himself along. Everything happened so fast and the next thing I knew, he was following me into the bar.

Davis was obviously gay and very obviously interested in me—a feeling that wasn't reciprocated. I hadn't had a chance to tell him about Donovan, both because I didn't have time and had no interest in sharing anything about my personal life with him, which made everything incredibly awkward when we sat down. I'd already been fighting with Donovan, which was my fault. Before arriving at the bar, I'd had every intention of sitting him down when the night was finished and explaining everything. Donovan didn't look happy when he saw Davis follow me in and Davis didn't look happy to hear Donovan was my boyfriend. I was stuck in an awkward sandwich in which I only wanted Donovan, and Davis could choked on a straw...after I got the contract.

In a perfect world, Donovan and I would've rubbed our blissfully happy relationship into Davis' face, but we weren't talking so, instead, I awkwardly sat next to Donovan. I'd told him I wanted to talk when we were finished, he agreed, and about two seconds later, he became pissed because I offered to get his drink refilled. That was pretty much the point when the night went to shit.

As Donovan stormed off, he took his friends with him and I watched them dance for a while before Davis started dropping comments about Donovan—he was obviously jealous and didn't like him. I, mostly, ignored him as I followed Donovan and his friends around the bar with my eyes.

That's when a Britney Spears song came on and everyone forced him to dance. The dance itself was terribly cheesy, yet hilarious. The best part was watching Donovan—the guy could dance and watching his body move was my favorite pastime. Watching him move only gave me more motivation to leave so we could work things out, so then I could ravage his smoking hot body.

I watched them hysterically laugh as the song finished and then they pushed each other toward the exit. I couldn't help but smile at Donovan's carefree spirit. He looked especially good laughing.

"Donovan is seriously hilarious! I love that guy."

It made me happy to know my friends liked Donovan, almost as much as I did—Drew could've toned it down a bit, but I wasn't worried. Davis asked about Donovan and his friends, so we took some time to explain how we'd all met and about the night we'd all gone to the club after they beat us for the first time.

"So, you're into guys like that?" Davis asked.

I felt his judgement and something inside of me panicked. I shrugged and nodded, too afraid to say something that might offend him.

Hindsight...

"I think you'd do so much better with someone who's not so...you know?"

I knew what he was implying and I would've been lying if I'd said there weren't moments, in the past, when it was a little difficult for me—mostly because my dad, as great as he was, had really fucked me up.

"Sometimes he can be overly, boisterous. Like tonight."

"Yeah, that dance was terrible! I was cringing the whole time. You'd never do anything like that, would you?"

"Of course not."

And I wouldn't have. I've never like attention and I'd always shied away from things like public displays of affection, karaoke, school talent shows, dancing at weddings with less than six beers or three hard drinks, or tripping on air. Basically, anything that might bring unwanted attention, which was any attention.

"I didn't think so, because you're not like that," he smirked but I shot him a hard glance that told him to watch it, that he was treading on very thin ice. Davis looked around the table and realized he wasn't surrounded by Donovan haters.

"Seriously though, you're different. It's my experience that not all gay guys are created equal. I guess to each their own. I for one, wish there were more guys like you. You're cool and chill. You're a man, you play sports, you live life. You don't try and prove yourself by waving the flag or...doing a ridiculously embarrassing dance to Britney Spears in the middle of a bar," he laughed.

Kurt looked at me with his mouth agape, unable to process how ridiculous this guy was. That he'd be talking shit about Donovan in front of us. We couldn't help but laugh, not at what he was saying but at his cluelessness. I was already on shaky ground with Donovan, and as much as I wanted Davis' contract, it didn't come close to how much I wanted Donovan. Davis was treading in sinking sand and none of us were gonna pull him out.

I was still staring at Kurt, thinking about the day dad had taken us all to watch a baseball game and tried to justify my sexuality by saying I just like a tight ass. My father has said a lot of really ridiculous things in my life but that topped them all. On the plus side, we've gotten a lot of mileage from that ignorant statement. We were still laughing when I they noticed the smirk on my face.

"Well...yeah, I mean—I'm not a fag or anything, I just like a tight ass.

We were the only ones at the table that were in on the joke and we were about to lose our shit over it, like we did every time one of us said it, when I saw Donovan. According to the look on his face, it was obvious he'd heard (at least) a little of our conversation. I knew I was fucked the second I saw him. I wanted to stove everyone out of my way and rush to him and explain the conversation. If he heard my tight ass comment I knew he'd never give me the time of day. Instead of doing something noble, I sat there terrified, totally mute, as he put on a pretty decent exit show, including a spot on impersonation of Ross and Rachel's "We're So Over" fight.

A few minutes after he'd stormed off my brain started to function again so I grabbed my jacket and started to make my way out of the booth.

"I'm going to go talk to him and clear the air."

Drew stopped me.

"I think you should let him cool off, first."

I disagreed. I didn't think this was something that could wait, but they held me back. I sat back and glared at everyone—I wanted to punch them, Drew specifically! He loved to interfere with Donovan and me and he really loved to side with Donovan. Deep down, I knew I shouldn't have listened to them and I should've gone after Donovan to straighten everything out, but as I always did, I second-guessed myself—if the three of them said I shouldn't, then it was probably the right choice, right?

"Fine, but I'm skipping tomorrow so I can fix things with Donovan."

Again, everyone shook their heads no.

"No way! This is our annual family reunion, you're not going to skip it for some boy!"

"You make it sound like I'm sixteen! Guess what, I'm not and Donovan's not some boy."

I hadn't ever had feelings for anyone the way I did for Donovan, and we hadn't even been dating long. He'd challenged me and pushed me outside of my comfort zone, in all of the good ways. Maybe my friends didn't see it, but it didn't matter. I'd had enough! I wasn't going to sit there for a minute longer and feel worse than I already did so, with haste, I continued to move out of the booth so I could go home. Drew put his hand on my chest in an attempt to stop me.

"Where are you going? You know you can't go to his house."

"Why? Because you have plans to go, instead? Get out of my way. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

I threw his hand off of my chest and walked out. By the time I got home, I was furious with everyone, including myself. I felt like the Hulk as I stormed around my shell of a house, ripped the plastic off of my bed, pulled the spare sheets out of storage, and brought my travel bag in from the truck. I was stripping down when I heard my phone chirp, indicating an incoming text.

Donovan!

My heart raced as I slipped my shoes back on, ran to the kitchen where I'd left my phone, and swiped my phone.

[Davis] Hey good looking. If you want company tonight let me know ;)

It would've been the best text ever...if it wasn't from Davis! I wanted to throw my phone, but that wouldn't have solved anything, in fact, it would've only added to my frustration. Plus, I'd never know if Donovan had tried to get in touch. Instead, I ignored Davis, crawled into bed, and thought about Donovan. I didn't sleep as I debated whether or not to ditch the reunion the following day, so I could see Donovan. Of course, as it turned out, that wouldn't have worked because he was at the reunion.

*** *** *** ***

The whole day was a joke. First, I found out that Donovan was Donny Allerton. I cannot count how many times I wanked to his google pictures back in the day. He looked different now; ten years older and less muscular, but still hot as fuck. I couldn't believe I dated him. Not only that, but he was friends with our grandfathers, in my co-ed league, and he'd kicked our asses. I'd fucked him and fucked things up with him. I followed him around with my eyes, upset that I couldn't talk to him. There were a thousand reasons why, which included the fact my entire family was there, including my dad, but mostly Donovan wanted nothing to do with me. It was hard to watch him interact with my family knowing I couldn't be by his side. It wasn't just me, he wouldn't talk to the rest of DAKS either.

I felt like such outsider by the end of the day. Most of my family were ignoring me, my dad crossed a line, DAKS were pushing me to fix things for their own selfish reasons, and I missed Donovan-who left shortly after the game. I left as soon as I could slip out unnoticed, and went straight to his house. I was tired of being told I needed to wait. Every minute I wasted was another minute I didn't get to be with him and the further and further away he became.

Of course, he wasn't alone. Why would he be? That would've meant something was going my way and that was plain, fucking crazy! Oh, no, all of the DONNAs were there and they were all drunk, especially Donovan. Not wanting to dig myself any deeper, I didn't acknowledge the fact that seeing nearly-naked Donovan wearing a tiny pair of eighties-inspired, boy short undies was what my fantasies were made of. The maroon, with white trim, undies beautifully contrasted against his dark-olive, sun-kissed, smooth, flawless, and perfect skin as they hugged his tight waist and lean thighs.

Donovan, Donny Allerton, wearing sexy boy shorts.

Yeah. He looked good. The mud mask was definitely funny, but he still looked hot. He was drunk, though, and being drunk, especially with an audience, was a terrible scenario so I left when he asked me to leave, but if he thought he'd seen the last of me, he was going to be disappointed. I was good at that, disappointing people, but I wanted to fight for Donovan. I didn't think he'd give me another chance, and I knew I didn't deserve one, but I was going to fight for one anyway. People worse than I, get chances like a cat with nine lives.

I drove back to his house the next afternoon—unlike the night before, Allé's van was gone, so that was good. I got out and knocked on the door a few times. Either he was ignoring me or he was gone. I was counting on the latter.

I'd been so focused on the door, I hadn't heard the car pull up.

"Looking for someone?"

I turned to find the strangest person I'd ever met...Allé. He was wearing courduroy, flared pants with an orange and red, paisley shirt. According to Donovan, I didn't have a great fashion sense so I had no right to judge.

"I was hoping to talk to Donovan, but—"

"But he's not here. Work stuff," he looked unamused.

"Of course, work stuff."

Duh. He'd always worked on Sundays. I tapped my fist into the palm of my hand as I walked back to my truck. It was fine, I'd try again. You know what they say—if at first you don't succeed, stalk them until they get a restraining order against you.

"I'm supposed to go to brunch with him on Wednesday. The plan is to meet here at ten. I have a feeling I'm going to be busy. I'll probably send him a text around ten after, to let him know I'm bailing. It'd be a shame if he didn't have anyone to go with."

He dropped a manila envelope through the mail slot on the door then walked back to his car, which was parked behind my truck. Was he actually giving me a leg up? I watched him with uncertainty as he met my gaze and smiled before reiterating.

"Wednesday. At ten."

He actually gave me an in. Donovan might have Allé's balls for what he did, but that strange man was actually helping me out. For the first time all weekend, I smiled as I stepped off of the curb and, with a smile, pounded my hood as I walked to the driver's side of my truck.

"Wednesday at ten!" I shouted back.

*** *** *** ***

As frustrated as I was with Friday and Saturday, Sunday's brief conversation with Allé had given me hope. It didn't mean Donovan would respond, but it'd give me time within his schedule to try. Not wanting to get out of bed yet, I looked at my phone once more.

[Davis] Breakfast?

Fuck no, you idiot!

[Shane] I'm already working so I'll see you for our one o'clock meeting

That was a lie, of course, although I did have some very important things to do.

I needed to win back Donovan.

*** *** *** ***

The only good thing about Davis was the fact he didn't require a suit and tie for meetings. Business casual was my favorite working attire. Normally, I didn't put much effort into my outfits (unlike Donovan) because frankly, I didn't care.

Today was different. There was a one-in-three chance the hospital I might get to work on was Donovan's workplace. For the life of me I couldn't remember which hospital he worked. I wasn't going to stalk him, but if there was a chance I might run into him, I wanted to look good. It was a no brainer to wear the dark-wash jeans he'd picked out—the ones that led to the epic, mirrored blow job—a cream shirt and green blazer (tied together with a leather belt), and shoes. I didn't too look bad.

On the way to the hospital, I wondered how I could casually stroll through the pediatric areas. Were they close to where I was going to be? Were they accessible to the general public? Would it be part of the included tour? If so, how would Donovan react if he saw me? Would he make a scene in front of my potential bosses? Did I care?

By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I was a hot mess. But nothing prepared me for how I'd feel when I spotted Donovan's white 4Runner in the parking lot. Samaritan was his hospital and he was working, so I blasted the AC and tried to cool off so I wouldn't be a sweaty, nervous mess when I walked in. I psyched myself up on the way through to parking lot. I needed to focus on the meeting and then, afterward, I could casually run into Donovan.

Fuck. I was so distracted by the thoughts of Donovan that I'd forgotten all of my paperwork in the truck, so I jogged back, grabbed it, and then hustled back to the building.

So much for the AC cool down.

I was almost to the building when I spotted a stray German Shepherd that donned a blue vest and, after a quick glance around, no one to claim him, which was strange for a service dog since they weren't usually too far from their master.

I wanted to give him a good rub down, but when a service dog is wearing its vest, that means they're on duty and it's frowned upon to overly pet them. As I snapped my fingers and pointed to the ground, I commanded.

"Sit."

I smiled as he obediently sat and debated whether or not to leave him while I went to my meeting or take him to the front desk. I was interrupted before I came to a decision.

"Moscow! You sneaky pup."

I turned around and came face to face with brilliant green eyes and perfect brown hair. It took him a second to realize it was me, and when he did, he didn't look all that happy about it. His disappointment didn't stop me from smiling when I saw him. Then I smiled a little more when I caught his eyes roaming down my body.