I Want You To Be My Last

Part 2 : Decisions

Gulf was on his first break when he'd finally been able to get a hold of his phone.

Sorry it took me a while to reply. Mild didn't pick up when I called him this morning, to, you know, make sure you really got my number from him.

Gulf frowned and read the message twice, then read it again for good measure. He squinted at the name written at the top of the message, wondering who this "S" person was until he remembered the stupidity he'd willingly gone through the night before.

Swearing under his breath, Gulf contemplated deleting the message altogether, to try and convince himself none of it happened when his phone vibrated once again.

It was another message from the same person, and it read;

About your text last night...Well, I'm not so sure why you thought I might know the answer when you haven't even asked me a question, but maybe you can ask me now. Are you free to talk?

Gulf unconsciously checked the time, and realized he had at least half hour to spare before they called him again to resume the shoot. Part of him knew that answering the other person's text was a bad idea, but the bigger, and equally-curious part of him was egging him to throw caution to the wind and just - try.

He shook his head and remembered Mild's suggestion the night before, hinting at something Gulf honestly wasn't ready to entertain then, especially when he was, in no particular order, confused, exhausted, frustrated and drunk.

Obviously, being completely sober didn't necessarily mean he was in the right state of mind to be entertaining said suggestion now either, but...

Whatever.

He stared at the message, contemplating his life decisions up until this point and huffed.

Fuck it.

He started typing.

I'm on a short break. , he started, hoping it was enough to tell the other person he was available to talk now. And as I said in my message last night, I have no idea why P'Mild had kept on insisting I should text you.

Okay, that wasn't entirely true, but Gulf kept the thought to himself. To be honest, he already had an idea what this was all about; Mild didn't need to spell it all out to him to know what the older man meant when his friend had convinced him to message a complete stranger, although he was certain there were still some things about this whole affair that he might be missing.

No offense, but, do you really want me to believe that? Do you really need me to spell it out to you or should we go straight into the specifics so as not to waste each other's time?

Gulf frowned, impressed and equal-parts annoyed. He didn't want to think that this stranger had just questioned his intelligence, but it honestly felt that way somehow.

Still, he tried to be rational about it and ignored his protesting pride in favor of typing a reply.

I'm not looking for a girlfriend. , he typed, sending it immediately before he could talk himself out of it and feeling rather stupid right after.

Good to know, because I'm not looking for one either.

Gulf inhaled deeply. Then, what are you looking for exactly? , wondering if he was even asking the right questions.

The ellipsis appeared, signaling that the other person was typing his answer. Gulf waited, anxious.

I'm sure you already know the answer to that., was the other man's simple answer, which was quickly followed by another text that said, I know you might think it's weird, but I can assure you I'm not new to this. Mild offered you my number because he knows I'm looking for someone, but that I prefer to keep it discreet. I'm guessing you agreed to his suggestion to contact me because, if anything, you were curious too.