“That sounds great,” I say, smiling. “But, I have plans with Bryce tonight. Shhhhh.”
I wink at her. Here’s the thing about Bryce, he hasn’t come out, yet. He’s seen the constant bullshit I have to go through, daily, and he doesn’t want to go through that hell. So, he plans on coming out shortly after graduation. Or, at least, that’s what he tells me. His parents don’t even know. They don’t suspect a thing. And why would they? He’s been active in basketball and baseball since middle school. He’s had the occasional girlfriend – before discovering his homosexuality.
She winks back. She knows. I tell McKenzie everything and I know I can trust her. She would never out Bryce. She’s straight, obviously; but, she understands how hard it can be to be gay in a world that still doesn’t fully accept same-sex couples. She’s amazing. I hope she settles down with a good guy someday. She deserves only the best.
“Oh, that’s fine,” she says. “You two be careful! Wrap those winkies, now!”
“God, Kenzie,” I say, blushing. “Say it louder next time! I don’t think Captain Fuckstick of the football team heard you back there!”
She makes an, “Oh, shit! Sorry” face and shrugs her shoulders.
“Anyway,” I say. “So far, I’m free Saturday – if that invite is still good for then.”
“It’s a date, sexy,” she says, nudging me in the shoulder. “Well, I’m gonna’ get to class. Tell Bryce ‘hey’ for me.”
She winks at me and makes her way past me. You know what, perhaps I should try and embarrass her. I smack her on the ass as she passes me. She spins around, eyes wide, covering her mouth with her free hand.
“Oh, Logan…” she says. “You’re so forward!”
Again, she winks, smiles and turns around – making her way down the hall. Well, damn! That backfired. I check my phone, again – 7:52.
“Shit…” I mutter under my breath.
The first bell, that starts school, will be ringing in under ten minutes. Just then, Bryce rounds the corner. Breathing labored from running down the hall. Looking at him, you wouldn’t know he was gay. Short brown hair, brown eyes, wearing the typical straight guy apparel – a white American Eagle shirt, loosely fitted faded blue jeans with a hole on the right thigh and big hole on the left knee, and white and black Under Armor tennis shoes. He smiles when he spots me at his locker. I smile back. But, the smile disappears just a quickly as it appears on his face. His eyes open wide, as if to say, “Oh, shit!”
Next thing I know, I’m being slammed up against his locker by one of the jocks. I think I mentioned his name earlier. Ya’ know… Captain Fuckstick? Yeah, that’s him! Here we go, again. It startles me, at first. But, once I realize it’s him, I sigh. Well, it is Friday. Better to get the harassment out of the way before the weekend approaches.
“Hey, faggot.” Captain Fuckstick, a.k.a. Josh Maxwell, says. “What the hell do you think you’re doing smacking McKenzie on the ass like that? You stay the hell away from her, you hear me?”
I cock my head to the right, popping my neck – it’s a stress reliever. Well, one of my stress relievers, if you catch my drift. I look back at him, with a cocky smile on my face.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Josh. Can you come back later for your daily pissing match? You see, the bell is about to ring. Perhaps we can continue showing the size of our dicks during lunch period or something. But, from what McKenzie tells me, you might come up a little short in that competition.”
Yup. I told you. My smart mouth would get the best of me. Josh looks at his buddies, that decided to huddle around him, and chuckles a little. Before I know it, the wind is knocked out of me when Josh’s fist connects with my gut. My backpack, which was slung over my right shoulder only, falls to the ground as I drop to a knee, coughing and gasping to re-catch my breath. Captain Fuckstick and his buddies laugh it up as they walk away.
They pass Bryce, who eyes them, maliciously. He then sprints down the hallway to me, and helps me to my feet. I finally catch my breath. Out of habit, when we’re alone, I grab his hand, intertwining our fingers. He quickly shakes his hand free from my grasp.
Oh, that’s right. My bad. He’s “straight.” Heavy air quotes around the word straight.
“Damn it. I’m so sorry, Logan,” he say, quietly, so nobody would hear. “I should have gotten here sooner. Car problems. Mom had to drive me here.”
It is all I can do to not wrap my arms around him and kiss his big, pouty lips. I settle for a smile. A smile is harmless, and in no way tells the rest of the school, “Hey! Bryce is gay!” right? He flashes a quick smile of his own.
He walks me to my first class, math. It’s on his way to history class. We have 7 classes throughout the day, and not a single one we share together. Major bummer. But, I do have 3rd hour English class with McKenzie, so, that kind of helps.
Bryce is always paranoid, walking down the hallway with me – always scanning the hallway for people who might spot us and think there was something more than friendship. I’m not gonna’ lie, it kind of hurt. But, before dropping me off at my classroom, if the coast was clear, he always made up for it and made some sort of physical contact to let me know he cared for me. Be it either him swiping his hand across my shoulder blades, running a finger down the back of lower bicep, or, if I was really lucky, and nobody was in the hallway, he’d squeeze one of my ass cheeks.
With him being late to school, and it being one minute from the first bell, today was a “squeeze” day. I grunt under my breath and look back at him. He flashes an arrogant grin at me before sprinting down the hallway, hoping like hell he made it to history class before the bell rang. I find an empty desk in the back of Mrs. Smith’s math class. Bryce squeezed, more like pinched, my left ass cheek so hard, I still feel the stinging sensation as I sit down. But, I wasn’t complaining.
Uuuuugh! Seven more hours of this horse shit before I’m free for the weekend. Free to be in Bryce’s arms. Free to be absolutely ravished by him. Let’s just hope I can keep those bad thoughts away. Those bad thoughts that have been haunting my dreams again.
That Night, Bryce’s House – 7:32PM
I pull up next to the curb in front of Bryce’s house on Sycamore Street. “Love to My Cobain” by Jeffree Star playing loudly over my car’s speakers. I look at the house, peering through the windows, thinking Bryce might be watching for me to arrive. I turn the music down and look harder at the big window at the front of the house. Turning the music down, right… like that will help me “see better.” Why do I always do that? Suddenly, the front door opens. He steps out and waves me to him. He was watching for me.
I climb out of my black 2010 Ford Mustang and half-walk, half-run up to his front porch. A stupid smile is plastered on my face. He grabs me by the front of my shirt and pulls me into the house. His hands fall to my waist and he slams me into the open door, causing it to bang against the wall. His mouth goes for my jugular vein – as if he’s a vampire or something. He kisses my neck and I suddenly feel like melted movie theater popcorn butter.
“Fuck, B,” I moaned.
Oh, yeah! To avoid any confusion, I usually call him “B.” I called him that once, and he said he liked it – especially when I moan it, kind of like I just did. Even though I loved what he was doing, it suddenly dawned on me – his parents’ vehicles ARE in the driveway.
“I don’t mean to kill the, fuck…” I moaned again as his tongue went up the nape of my neck to my jaw, right below my ear. I regain my composure. “I don’t mean to… to kill the mood, B. But, aren’t your parents home?”
“So, what if they are?” he asks. He then brings his hand up to my neck, in the choking position and plants his lips onto mine. Needless to say, I was fucking hard.
If he wants to play this game, so will I. I quickly grab the crotch of his pants and push him forward. The front door opens up to the kitchen, so, the kitchen table is right there when you walk in. I push him towards it and he falls, back first, on top of the table. Before he can even move, I move down to the crotch of his pants and start un-zipping and un-buttoning his pants. He quickly brings his hands down to where mine are, and push them away. He quickly stands up and pushes me away.
“The fuck are you doin’, Logan? My parents are right down those stairs,” he says, pointing to a door just to the right of the kitchen.
“You started it, B,” I say, my eyebrows raised, staring at the plaid-colored erection poking through the zipper of his jeans.
He grabs his cock, still covered by his plaid boxer shorts, and shoves it back into his jeans. His eyebrows are still down in a serious manner; but, a smile stretches across his face. He walks back over to me and gives me a quick peck on the lips.
“Come down and meet the parental units,” he says and grabs me by the hand. “But, remember… we’re ‘just friends.’”
“No shit, B,” I say.
He pulls me by the hand and leads me to the basement door. I stop right before we reach the door, pulling my hand back. He looks back at me.
“What’s wrong,” he asks.
I give him wide eyes, as if saying, “Seriously? You’re asking me that?” I bring my hands down towards my crotchal-inner thigh region, and place my hands down there as if I’m presenting him with some kind of special award. I still had a massive hard-on. My tight black jeans showed a perfect outline of my seven-inch cock. In fact, the jeans are so tight you can see the outline of the head and I’m sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the big vein that supplies a majority of the blood to “little Logan.”
“Well, B, because of your handy work, I have this to deal with this first. Unless, of course, you want me to go down there like this,” I say.
“No. No, you’re right,” Bryce says. “Get rid of it.”
“The fuck you want me to do,” I ask. “Chop it off?”
“I don’t know, man… do something,” he says.
I close my eyes and try to think of totally non-sexy things. Houseplants, soiled diapers… I open my eyes and see Bryce staring at me.
“Stop looking at me like that, B,” I exclaim. “You’re making it harder… literally.”
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