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I just don't want to feel this way anymore.

He should call his N.A. sponsor, Mike, like Doreen had told him too. Instead he lay by the pool, unable to get Dylan out of his head. Maybe he could withstand it, all the fears and what might be lies or truths if he just lay there, taking it for a while. If he just kept breathing in and out. He clenched his fists. The good thing was, there was no one to call for dope, not that he knew. He'd trashed all the numbers he had. 

The night was warm. He could smell jasmine from the garden on a breeze. Just keep breathing in and out, he thought. 

I'd rather be known for my work than for giving Robbie Day a blow-job, Bart had said. 

Robbie dug his phone out of his pocket and sat up and texted Bart: Are you up? I love you. I'm sorry about anything I've done. He sent, reread it, was immediately horrified, and promptly threw his phone into the pool.

“Fuck.”

He went up to his room and took a shower and under the hot spray felt with great certainty, that he had to let Bart go before he ruined his life or at least before Bart could see the full scope of what a needy fucked up catastrophe Robbie was, and feeling so keenly how much better Bart would be without him he began to cry and couldn't stop until he'd fallen asleep on top of his covers, his hair still wet.

- A Day in Cleburne: Book 2 of The Robbie Day Duology is now for sale on Amazon!