Dancer (The Good Guys Book 2)(4)

By: Jamie Schlosser


The conversation stalled. I didn’t know anything about wedding shit. I would’ve kept him talking if I’d known what to ask.

Travis ran a hand through his hair and the brown mass fell over his eyes.

“You need a haircut,” I told him, once again trying to distract him from talking about me. “You should just do what I do and buzz it off.”

“Angel likes it long on top. Gives her something to hold onto.” He smirked.

“Dude.” I barked out a laugh. “There’s such a thing as too much information.”

“And there’s such a thing as trying to change the subject,” he shot back, giving me a pointed look.

Deciding to get it over with, I took a deep breath. With my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, I confessed my deepest secret.

“I’ve got a problem with my dick,” I blurted out, grimacing at how blunt I was.

“Shit,” Travis breathed out. “Did Tara give you something? Is that why you broke up?”

“No!” I practically shouted, lifting my head. “Hell no. I got tested for everything after we broke up. Clean bill of health.” I held up my hands. “Tara was into drugs. The hard stuff, too. I didn’t even know it for most of our relationship. I don’t know how she hid that shit from me, but she did.”

“You guys didn’t exactly spend a lot of time together,” he supplied.

I nodded because it was true. Honestly, I never enjoyed Tara’s company all that much. If anything I just stayed with her out of convenience, which hadn’t been fair to either of us.

“So, what’s the problem?” Travis asked, reminding me of my confession.

“It’s like—” I paused, trying to think of a way to explain it. “It’s like whiskey dick, but I haven’t been drinking. I can’t keep it up. Fuck, sometimes I can’t even get it up in the first place.”

Realization dawned on his face. “The arguments. I heard her yelling about stuff a few times,” he said. “What she said didn’t make sense at the time, but it does now.”

“Yeah, she wasn’t exactly understanding about it. It only made it worse.” I took another swig of my beer as I remembered the way Tara berated me.

What’s wrong with you?!

Don’t you think I’m sexy?

Are you gay or something?

“We didn’t even have sex for, like, the last two months of our relationship,” I said. “I got tired of trying. And failing.”

“Did you ever think maybe you just didn’t like her? I mean, maybe your dick knew better than you,” he joked, making light of the situation.

I shook my head. “I had the problem in high school a few times. You remember Katie? Of course you do.” I chuckled because Travis hated her. She could be a total bitch but she was hot. Back then, that was all I cared about. “Anyway, it happened with her a few times, too. I’d been drinking those times, though, so I thought it was because of that…”

“What about since Tara? You guys broke up months ago.”

“I tried to go home with a girl from a bar one night.” I cringed, thinking about my desperate attempt to prove to myself that my cock wasn’t broken. “I got to her place and we started to mess around. I couldn’t even get half-mast. I ended up making some lame excuse and leaving.” The shame and embarrassment weighed down on me. You’d think talking to my best friend would make me feel better, but it didn’t. I’d already told him this much, so I thought I might as well spill everything. “I went to see a doctor about it earlier today,” I admitted, looking up at Travis to find him listening intently.

“And?” he prodded.

“He gave me a prescription for Viagra. Fucking Viagra!” I removed the orange bottle of blue pills from the pocket of my Carhartt jacket and set it on the coffee table. “I’m 22 years old and they tell me I have erectile dysfunction.”

I finished off the second beer and got up to get another one.

“Wanna grab me one, too?” Travis called from the living room.

I got two beers from the fridge, handed one to him, then sat back down.

“Aren’t you a little young to be experiencing that kind of issue?” Travis asked skeptically. “Maybe the doctors were wrong.”

“They said it’s probably just in my head. Called it ‘performance anxiety’.” I made a sound of frustration. “I don’t know how to fix that. But they said the pills might give me more confidence.”

“Have you talked to Hank about it?” he asked.

My face twisted up in a horrified expression. “I’m not talking to my dad about my dick problems,” I said incredulously. “Anyway, he’d just tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and say some shit like ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’.”

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