My hands were slightly shaking as they went to brush the hair that hung damply at his forehead. His eyes did not waver when I swept away the thick lock of hair. They were only for me; unrelenting and demanding. Like a contained hurricane, waiting for the moment of release.
"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," I gasped desperately as Brittany's tongue slid seductively upmy neck. Our breathing collided forcefully together, combining into almost a synchronized rhythm. Her response was merely a small laugh, chuckling in the inside of my throat.
I sighed as I strained away from her mouth.
It was so like her to brush things off with a laugh. Nothing would stand in her way if she wanted it.
And she'd been wanting this for months now.
Sex. We'd gone as far as oral, and I was sure I'd convinced her enough that it would be unsafe to proceed in the actual performance, but convincing was way below, below where our clothes were strewn across the bottom of her car.
I wasn't sure why I minded so much. If I were to be honest with myself, it wasn't even the having sex part that literally had my heart begin uncomfortably ramming into my chest. . I mean, Brittany was hot, no doubt about it. Every guy in school wanted her, and wanted her bad. There wasn't a day that went by that I got curious whispers asking if I'd 'tapped that yet'.
I'd only smirk facetiously and look straight ahead. That would be quickly followed by shoulder slaps and 'damn!'s. Little did they know. . .
"Come on Hickory," she whispered in my ear, "we don't even have to use a condom. I've been taking prego pills." Slowly, my eyes opened, her breath fanning across my lips. Big blue eyes, utterably kissable lips, straight blond hair that hung down to tickle her bare tan breasts. She sat just below my. . . member, with her manicured hand stroked it slowly. And I could feel her on my leg . . . . like FEEL her.
"Brittany. . . I can't. I have to get home soon." Her confident smile lowered, inch by inch, until it formed an attractive pout. One long stroke and she paused, silence piercing the air.
"You know, sometimes I feel like you don't even want me." My eyes flickered up as my breathing paused. She was watching, her eyes burning with anger. I bit my lip, my hands grabbing her hips.
"You know I do babe. One day we will. . . but right now I can't. . . I. . . I have school work."
"School work?" She asked incredulously, immediate unbelief coloring her eyes.
"Yeah." For a moment it was silent inside the car as we gazed at one another, measuring and weighing the atmosphere. She knew. Of course she did. She knew I was lying. She always did. I'd been lying to her for the past seven months.
I have homework.
I have to clean my room.
My mom wants me to rearrange my sock drawer.
My cat died.
I have diarrhea.
I always had my homework done two days in advance, my room was always clean, and I didn't even own a cat.
I was running out of excuses, and she was running out of patience.
The real question was was why did I lie? And I knew it.
I knew it and hated and refused to believe it.
Brittany stared for another two heart beats before sighing. She slid lithely off of me, and rolled into the next seat. Silently, we gathered our clothes, slipping them on and trying to think through the awkward air.
Discreetly, I wiped my shirt across my legs where she had been sitting.
"Babe." She stared straight ahead, her gaze unwavering, her mouth set in a twisted grimace. I sighed, reaching over to her knee. She didn't flinch, but instead she tensed, her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.
"Babe, you know I'm sorry." Her eyes swept over to me, searching. For what I had no clue. Possibly the truth. For a moment I wondered what she saw, in the depthless blue eyes that revealed nothing but held everything.
She turned away slowly, her mouth forming into a sad frown. It was quiet as she turned onto my street. She drove down the long road filled with houses that all looked like they were cloned fifty times and placed next to one another and across their twins. Every house was painted white, with a mowed lawn, clipped bushes beneath a wide porch. A single tree with a tire swing swaying lazily in the warm summer breeze.
"Josh, if you're not going to want to be with me, then I think we should take a break. From each other." I froze when she stopped talking. The words didn't seem to make sense. She'd always wanted me. There had never been any trouble or fighting between us, of course, because she'd always idolized me. And why shouldn't she? I was captain of the baseball and soccer team, straight A student with a charming personality. Every girl acted that way towards me.
I was the most popular guy in school. Everyone knew it. I could have anything I wanted.
There was secret satisfaction in knowing I could get any girl I wanted in school. That was living proof, and she sat next to me. Yet.
"What do you mean? Are. . .are you breaking up with me?" I paused, looking out the window, shocked to see we were already parked in front of my house. I glanced at the lit windows, the light that promised protection inside.
"Yeah." Stunned I looked back at her, hunting hungrily over her face, wondering if she was actually saying the words. She stared blankly back, excluding the dead look in her eyes. I knew I'd hurt her. With my indifference at her touch and refusal at intimacy.
For a moment, I weighed the option of telling her. She may have been obnoxious and loud and prideful, but she wasn't a gossip. She cared for me. . . should I tell her? That I thought I was gay. Not bi, not curious, full on, 100% gay? My body quickly trembled and I pushed the thought violently away. I would never tell anyone that.
Honestly, I was planning on marrying someone like Brittany, and never telling a soul I was. . . gay. Because even in this generation, where being gay was. . . not that big of a deal, in Paradise, Illinois, it was. The last gay kid at our school had been beaten senseless, and was only enrolled for two weeks before transferring. And that wasn't even that bad, at least compared to my dad. My two-hundred pound, six foot, all American, baseball playing, George Bush loving, dad.
He would probably disown me. Or kill me. It really didn't matter. Either way my life would end.
I wasn't ever going to move out from Paradise. I was destined to live here for the rest of my pathetic life, where I would become the baseball coach of Paradise High, or owner of my dad's ever flourishing air conditioning and heating Hickory Homecare service. I wasn't going anywhere.
Still. I didn't want to hurt Brittany. I at least cared for her. Yet I stared blankly at her, searching for words that would soothe her ego. Nothing. That's what I thought of. I'd have another girlfriend in weeks top, and she'd be a forgotten memory.
"Okay." My hand groped numbly for the handle as I grabbed my bag and stepped out.
I popped the pills into my mouth, washing it down the the third bottle of Heinekin. I stared blankly at my naked reflection, waiting for the drugs to take effect. Blonde hair, green eyes, full lips, ripped body. I was perfect. And I hated it. I watched as tears collected in my eyes, glistening in the light before they spilled over.
Everything about my life was just, oh so perfect. I was tired of perfect. I wanted a challenge, I wanted freedom, I wanted imperfections, I wanted to BREATHE. I would never have any of those though. I would live in perfection and hate every single second.
"What the fuck, why would you fuckin dump her? She's fuckin hot as hell!" I shrugged my shoulders as I sank next to Cameron, my boneheaded friend. Of course he would be shocked I'd dumped her. He'd wanted to bang her the moment she walked in freshmen year. Didn't every guy?
"I don't know, I just did." Cameron stared, stunned, at me as I looked ahead, watching the freshmen passing the balls to one another.
I leaned lazily into the heal of my hand, breathing heavily. Glancing upward, I wondered idly if it would even rain. All day it had been dark and gray yet not one drop had fallen.
Cameron snorted loudly next to me.
"Dude, you are the stupidest mother fucker I have ever known."
"Stupidest isn't a word, stupid." He laughed loudly, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Whatever, dude. You must have been trippin balls though, to dump Brittany Witherspoon. I mean, who the hell would do thatsober?" Cameron was the definition of my school. Prejudice, ignorant, arrogant, shallow and just plain stupid. Sometimes I wondered why I even was friends with him. He was funny, but it was usually at other's expense. I closed my eyes, wondering why I did anything for that matter. It would never amount anyway. I was doomed since the day I was born.
I'd always thought guys were attractive. Hell, they were all I found attractive. Girls seemed. . . too scrawny. I wanted someone to hold me and protect me and keep me safe and warm. Fat chance that would ever happen though.
"Hey man, I didn't mean to make you sad. I. . . just can't believe you did it." Cameron patted my shoulder.
"Can you just drop it?"
"Sure." For a moment, everything was silent, except for the distant yelling and whistles. The air was cool, yet pleasant. Experimentally I closed my eyes, wondering if I tried hard enough, the wind would scoop me up and take me away. Far, far away.
That's when the soccer ball hit me in the side of the head.
My body jerked sideways, colliding into Cameron's.
"OUCH!" We both shouted.
We both looked to our right, searching for the culprit. A thin kid ran up, his face covered in horror. I squinted as he neared us. I'd never seen him before. I would have remembered the face. The young boy was tall, healthily over six feet, with a lean pale body, hinting suspiciously of more beneath the white shirt he wore. The color of his eyes were a soft glowing blue, wide and scared. His dark brown hair was curly, covering his ears and threatening to the same with his eyes.
His mouth was wide and thick, set above a stubborn chin. I took me a moment to realize I was ogling more than scowling. Quickly I transformed my face into outrage, picking myself up, and thrusting my chest out.
"What the fuck dude?" He stopped feet away, his eyes filled with apologies.
"I'm so sorry, I--I kicked too hard! That looked like it hurt. . ." Cameron laughed humorlessly.
"No shit, dumbfuck. Watch what you're doing next time, cuntface, or I'll fucking fix you." I clenched my teeth, wishing I could give the boy's sudden horrified face reassurance.
"Woah, there boys, calm down. This here is my nephew." Coach Morgans jogged next to the boy, slapping a meaty hand on the thin shoulder. Cameron shifted his feet uncomfortably. He'd just verbally abused the coach's nephew. Not a good way to begin the season.
"Hey," the boy murmured quietly. Coach Morgan smiled widely, squeezing his shoulder.
"This here is Caleb. Just transferred from New York. Now I don't want no trouble starting boys." He winked teasingly at us. We both offered smiles.
"I want you boys to make him feel welcome. He's joining the team, and he's pretty damn good. I don't need you trying to start a fight on his first day here, you hear?"
"Yes sir," we murmured.
"Great! Well I leave you to it, and try to watch yourself next time, Caleb. I'm not going to be able to stop any one else next time." Caleb's face flushed red, embarrassment clouding his face.
"Kay." Coach Morgan eyed us one last time before waddling back over to the freshmen.
"Watch your step, Bitch. Like your Uncle said, next time, he won't be able to save you," Cameron whispered before stalking off. Caleb stared after him for a moment, his eyes filled with terror. I wouldn't blame him either. Cameron was massive. Not to mention intimidating, with his shaved head and pierced lips. Six foot six and muscles the size of my hamstrings.
"It's cool dude, just watch your step next time." Caleb switched his eyes to mine, hesitation clear in his eyes. Probably wondering if I was just faking.
"I--I didn't mean to--"
"Yeah I know." He stared at me, his eyes still wide, yet beginning to calm. "Don't let Cameron intimidate you. He's a pussy." He smiled, hesitantly, his wide blue eyes squinting, becoming incredibly cute. Suddenly the urge was there.
Quickly it flashed into my head. A picture of kissing him, hard, in the middle of a forest, or in a meadow. To feel his body beneath mine. . . to feel him.
I wrenched myself quickly away, horrified.
"You okay?" He'd stopped smiling, his face turning serious, yet equally attractive as the previous. The image was gone, yet had left me engulfed in it's flames.
"Uh." I was trapped in the prison of his eyes, trying to furtively escape.
"What's wrong?" His hand rested against my shoulder. The touch was like an electric shock to my system, thrilling through me like a shot of adrenaline. Just as quickly I tore away. The heat from his touch still covered my body.
"I have to go." His face fell, hurt clouding his eyes.
"Oh. . . "
"I'll see you later." I quickly turned away, not waiting for his reply. My whole body thrummed painfully as I made a beeline for the showers.
The room was empty, filled only with silence as I barreled through the doors. I quickly ran to the stalls, locking the door behind me. I stood there for a moment, gazing at the green chipped door written all over with filthy words, mostly about my ex girlfriend. I couldn't even find myself to read it.
What. . . what the hell had just happened? I swallowed loudly, my throat dry and tight. I didn't even know the boy yet he'd struck me down like a deer in headlights. My heartbeat was still pounding painfully against my chest, my nose still breathing heavily.
His eyes. The bluest eyes I had ever seen. His touch. His touch had paralyzed me.
Running a hand through my hair I waited for my system for calm.
Ridiculous. It must have been from the drugs I'd taken this morning. Yeah. It must have been the drugs. I made a mental note to never take it again as I sat myself down.
And then my cheeks turned bright red.
How foolish I must have looked! Staring at him like some fucking idiot! I laughed darkly at myself. Idiot. He was probably thinking that moving here had been the worse mistake of his life. People threatening to beat him and then weirdos staring at him like he had the plague.
I shook my head slowly, closing my head and leaning my head back into the wall.
"You really are something else, Josh," I sighed. A few minutes passed before the ending whistle rang through the walls. Everyone would be coming soon. I took one last moment to clear my head before I stood, taking a huge breath to make sure.
Thank God today was Friday.
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