It's been a few days since I've been to class. After the humiliation of falling down the stairs I've decided that it would be safer staying in my dorm than chancing another episode while sitting behind him in class. Sitting at my usual desk now for 10 minutes waiting for class to start I get lost the fog of my tiredness. These morning classes are going to kill me.
"Hi there," a voice says behind me.
I fall into another daydream . . .
He approaches me soundlessly crawling along the floor. I can feel his presence and pause to soak up his scent. He slowly makes his way up my leg. Moving his hands a little further up and then pulling himself up closer and closer. He looks up at me. His blue eyes have fixed on mine but something is not right. They don't have the look of passion that I would expect from him. It's more of a puzzled look. My brain registers the weirdness of the situation and brings me back to reality with a sharp slap across the face!
Holy shit it's him! He's just sat down in the desk next to mine. It's not his usual desk. He would normally sit up a few rows. I'm expected to say something.
"Uh. Hi!" Great response! Uh followed by a much too enthusiastic Hi.
"Just wanted to see how you were doing. Haven't seen you around for a few days. Thought you might of hurt yourself with that fall. Everyone's been talking about it."
Now that's just what I wanted to hear. Groaning slightly I put my head to my desk.
"No I'm fine, just had a family crisis," I lied.
"Oh well that's good. I mean that your fine, not about your family." It's his turn to get embarrassed.
I laugh. He holds out his hand.
Gabriel. An angels name. I knew it. God sent me a damn angel to torment me with his body.
I take his hand, "Gabriel." We shake slowly. He has a good hand. Not too soft, but not all calloused and gross either. He looks confused again.
"Your name's Gabriel too," he asks?
"Your name. It's Gabriel too?"
"Oh! My name. No it's …," I can't believe I've forgotten my own name. I begin to panic. Should I make one up? What was that name I always wished my parents had chosen for me. The real one swoops into my head before the pause gets too long. "Devon. Devon Michaels."
"Nice to meet you," he takes his hand back.
This is too weird.
"What do you think of the class," he asks?
"Uhh, I'm not sure why I have to learn about Freud if I'm taking a Phys. Ed. major."
"I kind of like Freud," he responds, "all those psychosexual stages and stuff."
What the hell is happening here? This straight guy talking to another guy about Freud's sexual stages. I must be dreaming. I'm still in my dorm under the influence of some mind-altering drug unable to escape back to reality. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Hey, Josh!" he yells after another jock bounding down the steps to the front of the class. "Wait up!"
He turns to me, "Well have a good class. See ya around."
"Ya." I watch as he jogs down the steps after his friend. He holds his books in his right hand against his waist. It's the hand I held in mine. I touched him! I finally touched him. This class is as good as over . . .
His eyes fix on mine and I recognize the passion that I expect to see from him. He slowly continues his assent up my chest clawing his way under my shirt and …