Everything Meant Nothing (Mm Romance Fiction)
Copyright© 2025 by StoriesByTroy
Chapter 3: The Last Time I Saw Him | Summer After Him
I barely slept.
By the time my alarm buzzed, I had been lying in bed for hours, eyes fixed on the ceiling, sheets tangled around my legs. My suitcase sat zipped in the corner. Passport tucked in the front pocket. Hoodie packed at the bottom where I could not see it but still felt it somehow.
My flight was at night. One more day.
Cal texted me first.
You awake?
I walked over without replying. He lived two streets over. It was early morning, the sky a pale gray, the kind of light that slips in gently before the sun shows itself. The neighborhood was quiet, wrapped in that hush that makes everything feel suspended. His porch light was on. I didn’t bother knocking.
He opened the door and pulled me into a hug before I could say anything.
“You good?” he asked against my shoulder.
I didn’t answer right away. I just stood there, breathing in the familiar smell of his house, the faint cologne he always over-sprayed, the cinnamon from the toaster in the kitchen.
He stepped back, narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re going to see him, aren’t you?”
I looked down.
”Troy.” He sounded ... not angry exactly, just disappointed in me.
“He asked me to meet him,” I said. “Said it would be quick. Said he just wanted to say goodbye.”
Cal let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, dude. What else is there to say?”
I shrugged. “I just ... I want to see him one last time.”
“No, you don’t,” he said. “You think you do. But all he ever did was mess with your head. And now you’re leaving, finally getting out, and you’re letting him reel you back in for what? Closure? He doesn’t get to have that. He broke you.”
“He didn’t mean to,” I muttered.
Cal looked at me for a long time. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’s the problem.”
He hugged me again. Tighter this time. “Just ... be careful with your heart, okay?”
I nodded.
The football field looked smaller in the morning light. Dew clung to the grass. The goalposts stood still. Silent. Everything felt paused, like the world had not yet decided what it wanted to be today.
Luke stood near the sideline. Alone. Wearing his old varsity jacket, the one he wore the night he pulled me behind the shed after practice and kissed me so hard I forgot my name. I hated how much I loved seeing him in it. Him, here. Away from prying eyes. Like something out of a memory I hadn’t asked to relive.
He turned when he heard my footsteps. No smile. Just those familiar eyes, watching me like they always did ... like he wanted to say something but never could.
“Hey,” he said softly.
I said nothing.
“I just...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see you. One more time.”
“So you texted me at five in the morning.”
He gave a weak laugh. “I couldn’t sleep.”
I looked over at the shed, a small smile tugging at my lips. “That’s where we kissed.”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes flicking to the goalpost. “I remember.”
Silence settled between us. The kind that felt too loud.
“I wanted to tell you,” he said finally, “that I’m happy for you. I know you’ve been wanting this for a long time. Getting out. Starting over.”
“Is that what this is?” I asked. “A pep talk?”
He looked down. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this.”
“But it did.”
Luke looked up. “Troy...”
“You’re wearing the jacket I said I liked on you,” I said.
He glanced down, then back up at me. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I wore it for you.”
I swallowed. My throat already felt tight.
We stood in that stupid charged silence. The one we’d mastered. The one that always made me wonder if this time would be different.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. There were bags under his eyes. His hair still messed from sleep. He hadn’t come to impress me. He’d come because he needed to.
“I’m scared,” he said suddenly. “You know how much I ... uh ... like you.”
The words tumbled out quiet and clumsy. Not quite a confession. Not quite a denial. Just enough to let the door stay cracked.
But only because no one was around to hear it.
Luke was never good with feelings. Not unless we were in the dark. Not unless his hand was under my shirt. He loved me in the ways he could manage ... fingers through my hair, late-night drives, falling asleep mid-sentence. But never in daylight. Never where it counted.
“I know you are,” I said. “But you don’t get to be scared and still have me.”
He stepped closer, his voice lower now. “Troy, I think about you all the time.”
“Then why did you let me walk away?” I whispered.
“I didn’t know how to stop you.”
“You didn’t even try.”
He reached for me. Fingers brushing mine.
My body betrayed me. I leaned forward, just a little. Enough for him to know I still wanted to be wanted. Enough to hope maybe he finally meant it.
His hand cupped my face.
I let him.