RUPERT

As I drive into work, I look around at the place I grew up with an older perspective than the one I had before I left for college. I see the beauty now, the story it has to tell. I also see the potential. Like many small towns, when you return after a long time away, you see the things that have changed. At the same time, you get the feeling that maybe nothing has.

Thankfully, I have changed. Grown the fuck up to be exact. I’ll be the first to admit that the apathetic eighteen-year-old I once was, is not someone I’m overly proud of. I get that with age comes wisdom or some shit, but I was just not one of those guys who was comfortable in his skin. I didn’t really know who I was or who I wanted to be; and being too afraid to find out, I just became the guy I thought it was easier to be. Popular. Athletic. Indifferent. An asshole.

I was certainly an asshole to Irys, no question. I’d used her. I’d used her beauty, her popularity and her captivating wild spirit to create the image I thought I’d needed. Motivated by a healthy dose of fear-based denial, I started dating Irys the day after what I now call, ‘the locker room incident’. We were the epitome of high school sweethearts. We made sense together. Everyone thought so, including her. Truth be told though, looking back, I think maybe Irys was just as lost as I was.

It wasn’t until the summer before I left for college that she broke up with me.  Fierce and confident, in a total Irys way, she put a stop to something we both knew wasn’t working. Had never really worked, for either of us. That didn’t mean I was ready for it. Fuck, no. She’d scared the shit out of me and I’d panicked. Still not out of the thick woods of denial and about to leave the safety of Plantain, I’d tried to get her back. In yet another completely self-serving asshole move, I’d also inadvertently nearly ruined her chance at the happiness she deserved.

I’ve seen her a couple of times since being back in town and there are no hard feelings between us. As I suspected, Irys wasn’t all that into me either, but I still feel guilty that she was the one who’d had to put a stop to our charade. She’s happy, she’s running her own clothing boutique, she’s raising a family, and she’s totally in love with the guy she married, Evan.  In typical Irys fashion, when we’d run into each other at the diner, she’d demanded we sit for a quick coffee and catch up.  Not having much time, we’d kept it to the general ‘how have you been?” and ‘do you know what so-and-so is doing now?’ sort of shit. I did however give her the ‘btw, I’m gay’ confession. I knew she had more than moved on, but I’d still figured I should break it to her gently. I shouldn’t have worried, Irys had laughed her ass off. Apparently, I’d not shattered her view of me, but instead shone a light on things that in hindsight had always struck her as odd. Barely being interested in sex, and then, only ever fucking her from behind for a start.

Pulling into my parking space at the Plantain municipal building, I check to see if I’ll have time to grab a coffee from the diner before my first appointment. Nope, looks like I’m shit out of luck. The truck a few spaces over from me bears the logo of the construction company that won the bid, so the project manager for the high school gym rebuild must already be here.

I enter through the staff access door at the rear of the building and head straight down the hall towards reception. I’d prepped for this meeting before leaving last night, so it should be a relatively quick one. I just need to hand over the final plans, co-sign the permits with their project manager, and they’re set to begin.

Coming out of the corridor and into the large open plan area, I notice a man waiting in reception. He is holding a phone to his ear as he looks out one of the wide bay windows facing Main Street. Leaving me with a view of one of the broadest backs I’ve ever seen, I’d be blind not to notice that this guy is huge. Tall, a little taller than my 6ft 2inches, and built like a brick shithouse. His white with navy logo, Plantain Construction shirt fits him tight; hugging the lines of his muscular shoulders and arms, before narrowing down to a trim waist. As he talks, his arm flexes and I watch in fascination, wondering how the seams don’t rupture from the strain.

My eyes follow down the line of his body, noting the way the dark denim of his jeans molds to his ass and thighs, before coming to rest on the tops of his well-worn Timberland boots. He stuffs the hand that isn’t holding his phone into his front pocket, causing the denim to tighten further. Fuck. Now he’s not the only one who’s pants are suddenly tighter, damn it. Trying to shake the fog that I let this guy pull me into, I give my unruly dick a discreet yet much needed adjustment, just before he turns and looks me right in the face.

Motherfucker!

Karma, you really are a sadistic bitch.

In the three months I’ve been back in Plantain, of course the only guy to make my cock twitch like it’s possessed would have to be my ex-girlfriend’s brother.

Nolan fucking Frederickson.