Next Chapter 3 - Sex Stories

Next Chapter 3

... she might be feeling show. And I could still remember when we would have mud fights in my grandparents’ yard. Now here we are. Damn… I wanted to repeat what I had said last night: that I loved and would do anything for her and maybe it would be a better idea to wait until we weren’t in such a fucked-up state of mind. At least, until I wasn’t. But I didn’t want to reopen that door and I’m sure she didn’t either. As soon as she left, the mass feed reopened in my mind and all I could do was sit there like a statue as it ran through my mind. Mad or not mad. React or not react. How did I feel about it? What should I feel about it? And why? What should I do? Should I do anything? Repeat after repeat after endless repeat. It was going to be a long night. Or, at least, it probably would have been if my phone hadn’t rang what seemed like only seconds later. Actually (looking at the clock), I had been sitting motionless for about fifteen minutes. Stupid brain… I picked up my phone and checked the Caller ID. Craig. Wait…Craig? The shock was enough to knock out most of the whirlwind of regret and pain that had been swirling in my brain. Sure, he called me and texted me often enough but…I don’t know, he’d been out of the picture for the past couple of days and so much had happened that it was easy to forget that he was a friend now. Another thing I couldn’t have suspected a few months ago… I clicked open the phone. “Hey Craig.” “Hey Jack! Everything okay?” “Huh?” “Amanda texted me a ...

... couple days ago and said something had happened. You okay, man?” “You didn’t hear?” “Hear what?” I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes. “Coach Walburn is dead.” The phone was silent. I couldn’t even hear him breathing. After a minute, his voice crackled through: “Dead?” “…Yeah.” “How?” I swallowed hard, telling myself to buck up and just deliver the facts. “He shot himself.” “Fuck me…But…Why did Amanda text me about you?” “…I was there.” “Dude…No way.” “Yep,” I sighed, falling back on my bed, “Shot himself right in front of me. You remember that day he made us wrestle?” “Yes.” I didn’t know if it was the phone but Craig’s voice was cracking even more. “Well, apparently he and his wife found out his son was killed over in Iraq or somewhere and he went a little nuts and…Well, when I saw him, he looked like shit. His wife was gone and…he didn’t have anything left to live for so…Bang.” My mouth was on autopilot. That’s why I was sounding like an insensitive cunt. Please don’t hate me. “Oh.” Craig was silent again. “Yeah…” “Well fuck, man. That’s just…” “Craig? You okay?” Another voice came in through the phone. “Becca? Is that you?” I said. “Hey Jack. Craig, what’s wrong?” “Coach Walburn’s dead.” “Oh my God,” Becca gasped, “How?” “Shot himself…Because his family was gone and he didn’t have a job…” It wasn’t the phone. Craig sounded like he was about to cry. “It’s my fault.” “What? No it’s not!” “Yes it is, babe. He got fired because he made Jack and me wrestle.” Oh, fuck. “No, ...