Gus by Kim Holden Page A

yesterday and had to buy it. It's been a few years and I'm jonesing for some Mancala."
    Paxton and I played board games a lot when we were younger, but it's been years. My first instinct is to say yes, and before I can talk myself out of it, I'm agreeing. What the hell has gotten in to me?
    He explains the rules, and we play. It's a fairly simple game of moving the marbles around the board and trying to capture more marbles than your opponent, but there's definitely some strategy involved. He beats me. So we play another round. He beats me again. And he taunts me this time when he does it. We play a final round, and this time victory is mine. I'm not shy about rubbing his nose in it, either. I feel like I'm playing with Paxton. And it's actually relaxing. I smile to myself, because even though I prefer to be alone, this whole morning has been kind of perfect in a weird, unexpected, unplanned way. I'm usually very organized, but this was spontaneous, and, well ... nice.
    And I love Mancala. Who knew?
    I also know this can't happen again. This was a moment of weakness. I can't slip into trust-mode with this guy. The last man I trusted with friendship broke me.  

    (Gus)

    I had a great morning; completely, unexpectedly great. Hell, it felt almost normal. I didn't think that was allowed on the road. Normal . Hell, I didn't think that was allowed in my life at all anymore. And mystery solved on why Impatient doesn't answer me sometimes when I whisper to her late at night or early in the morning while everyone is sleeping. I always thought she was just ignoring me. I didn't know she was hard of hearing. Makes me feel a little less like the enemy. Don't get me wrong, she's still standoffish and quiet. Only now I think that may have more to do with her than me.

Saturday, May 20
    (Gus)

    Apparently I was wrong. Standoffish and quiet has everything to do with me.
    I invited Impatient to go with me to the laundromat this morning, but I guess she did her laundry yesterday. Which is fine, but she's turned down every attempt I've made to be nice to her this week. She's avoiding me, like intentionally and obviously avoiding me. I don't know what I did, but I'm sure I did something. I thought we turned a corner last weekend on the whole friendship thing, but I guess I was wrong.
    Scratch the part where I thought we could be friends.
    We're back to sticky notes.
    Fuck it.  
    I tried.
    Whatever.

Wednesday, May 24
    (Scout)

    I'm back to keeping to myself. It's better this way. I feel more comfortable. I talk to Paxton every day; he's my lifeline to the real world outside of the weird, rock star world I'm trapped in at the moment. He asks a lot of questions about the band because he loves their music. I don't have many answers for him, because, well, I don't know their music and I'm definitely not discussing them personally—that's a line I won't cross.  
    And besides that, they're just people.
    Paxton idolizes them.  
    I live with them ... and wish I didn't.
    Two totally different views that I can't reconcile in my mind.

Friday, May 26
    (Gus)

    We've been on the road for just over a month now. Even though we're in a different city every night, repetition is king: sleep, eat, drink, call Ma, drink, eat, perform while drinking, sleep. Repeat. Once again alcohol is an amiable companion. Because people are just too hard for me right now.
    It's monotonous, but I don't have to think too much at my current pace. It's routine and easy. And I've cut out women. There's never a shortage of propositions, but even sex isn't doing it for me like it used to. Seeing them so eager to please me makes me feel like a fraud. They want to be with Gustov. Not Gus. It's not that I act like two different people; I'm just me . But they don't know who that really is. I do. That's the difference. I'm done.
    I'd rather just hang out on the bus. How fucking sad is that? It's the truth, though.
    Four more weeks and I'm home.
    Four weeks.
    Fuck my life . Four more