Chapter 11

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The next day at school was awkward. The walls seemed to be pressing in closer and squeezing at my lungs. The world was angry at me for kissing Kyle and kissing Jake and thinking these thoughts that I ….shouldn’t be thinking at all.

The worst part would be to face Kyle. He would know. He would take one look at me and turn away in disgust because he would know that I kissed Jake. And in my current state, would probably kiss anyone just to be rid of this uncertainty buried in my chest, swirling unpleasantly.

“Mel won’t talk to me and you’re acting awfully dodgy today,” Ryan whined when he caught up to me in the hallway. My mind was so disorganized and my mood so gloomy I passed without even acknowledging him. Ryan stopped in mid-step and pouted. “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?”

I turned around, dazed. “Oh Ryan, I’m so confused.” I blurted out and stared wide-eyed at him, hoping he could give me some answers.

“What? Why are you—what about my problems?”

“You fucking cheated on your girlfriend, suck it up. Of course she’s going to be angry,” I snapped and gathered my books from my opened locker.

“But I was drunk,” he answered so forlornly I had to give him a one-armed hug before heading to my next class. His shock of red hair was disheveled and heavy black bags sagged under his tired, blood-shot eyes.

Trailing behind me, Ryan asked, “So what’s this ‘bout being confused?”

I blushed. Dismissing the question with a shake of my head, I replied with a shaky, forced laugh, “Oh nothing. Just about this dream I had.” About kissing boys.I didn’t say the last part out loud.

The teacher was just sorting through our assignments as I walked in and headed for my usual window seat. I didn’t know anyone in the class, so I hid myself behind the giant textbooks and secluded myself within the confines of my CD player. It would have been so much cooler to say MP3 player, but Rob stole mine and well, he isn’t giving it back. I wouldn’t be surprised if he deleted all my music and replaced them with his own horrible jazz and classical shit.

No offence to anyone who likes the squeal of saxophones, but when its been pounded into your head for well, 12 years or whenever Rob joined his high school band and fell in love with jazz, you would hate it too. The teacher droned on for maybe an hour or so. My brain completely blocked her off and I concentrated on tracing the faint etches from previous students upon the ragged and dirty desk-top. My God, I couldn’t even remember what class I was in anymore. Raising my hand lazily I requested a washroom pass and swaggered my way out of the prison classroom.

The hallways were quiet and empty, the occasional rustling of paper and the teachers’ booming voices. The linoleum floors matched the bland grey lockers so well, they made my head dizzy. I twirled the laminated pass with my fingers, dragging my feet on the ground and making my way to the boy’s bathroom. I didn’t really have to go, but I just like going in and checking my appearance. A little bit of hair stylin’ and clothing adjustin’. I—what? Everyone does it! Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Yes, yes guys do that. I think…

I rounded the corner and pushed on the heavy door. The washrooms smelled of fast food grease as the large window on the opposite wall faced a huge Mcdonald’s. For some reason, the principal decided that building a bench in the middle of the washroom, between the washroom urinals and the mirrors and sinks would be somehow helpful. It wasn’t. I tripped over one of the wooden leg stumps and slid, hard onto the smooth wood surface of the bench. Rubbing my bruised tummy, I winced in pain. My fingers lifted the hem of my shirt, exposing red scratches on my usually pale stomach. I pouted, touching one of the abused flesh gingerly. It hurt! I don’t care if I’m making a big deal out of nothing.

Just then, the door swung open with a loud, extended squeak. Surprised eyes upon frozen, stoic features gazed down at me, still lying, spread-eagled on the bench. My mouth parted, yet no words spilled forth. Blood crept up my cheeks and my ears flamed red. Talk about fucking déja vu.

“Hey Kyle” I chirped, forcing cheer into my voice. He still looked angry at me. I laughed uncomfortably. “Big coincidence, huh? I remember when we first met…well kind of first met. You know, in a bathroom…” I trailed off when I realized his back was to me and he was ignoring me. This was very frustrating. Stalking up to him, I stood on my tip toes so that my face was level with his. “You know, I don’t see how any of this is my fault. I don’t even know why you’re so pissed off at me.”

Finally he relented and talked to me. Except, what he said hurt. “God Tech, you just don’t get it. Everything’s just so simple for you. I mean, the world just accommodates for you doesn’t it? It doesn’t matter if you hurt people just as long as you go along at your own pace and carry on as if nothing is wrong. Why won’t you just fucking admit it? You’re gay. You like to take it up the ass.” Finally he paused, took a deep breath and leaned in closer, his eyes fiery with passion and anger. Much of what he said was a jumbled confusing mess to me. What the hell did he mean the world just accommodates for me? His hot breath tickled my nose and the faint musky scent of his skin mingling with my bland, store-bought soap smell. “And you want to kiss me.” This he said in a harsh whisper, fingers ghosting over my upper arms.

Angry words shot from my mouth without my consent. (I pretty much ignored his last comment) “I hurt people? I’ve never hurt anyone. At least I’m not the one…who, who says that nothing happened the night of the party, and then….then says that something did happen. And I keep getting these strange looks from people. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or…” I rambled on until I looked up to Kyle’s confused features. His eyebrows furrowed, tiny wrinkles appearing above his brows. I think he was still trying to piece together my pathetic attempt at a sentence.

“Are you talking about Jeremy? Because, God, I only told him I was going to fuck you so he’d leave you alone.”

My eyes were the size of saucers at that point. My voice failed at my first attempt. I cleared my throat. “W-what?” I squeaked out.

“Well,” Now Kyle looked a bit uncomfortable. “I was also pretty drunk, don’t forget that. I don’t think I even knew what I was saying. People say I act pretty schizophrenic when I’m drunk.”

I snorted. “Like I would remember. I just remember blurry images of skin.” I stare accusingly at him. At the corner of my mind, I still wondered if he was going to kiss me. Would I move away? Although, I think he forgot that he was supposed to be kissing me right now. And what is that? Is that fucking disappointment I feel? Damn it, shame on me.

“Really?” A wolfish smile graced his handsome features. I blushed.

“Well, mostly of a hand, and the images might have been of a beige-coloured t-shirt,” I lied.

This time, Kyle snorted. “Oh please, you know perfectly well I wasn’t wearing a beige-coloured t-shirt that day. Nor was anyone else you encountered. Trust me.” This was probably true, since any beige-coloured t-shirts would have been stripped off to reveal the real thing.

Before I could respond, I heard the door to the bathroom screech open. Kyle glanced back and forth, as if looking for an escape. Then, he grabbed me, shoving both of us into a cramped stall. I glared, annoyed up at his sheepish smile. “What I don’t understand,” I whisper suspiciously, while keeping an ear perked towards the rustling sounds of someone washing their hands, “Is why we have to hide in a boy’s bathroom when we’re both boys anyway.”

“Well, it was just reflex….or instinct. I dunno.”

“More like idiocy,” I grumble, trying to position myself so that my thighs would have maximum space away from his. I slapped his wandering hands before they could go lower. I’m not sure if he was teasing or what…And I’m not sure if he’s still mad at me. Or if he’s feeling me up because he’s mad at me. Or maybe this was how I was supposed to make it up to him, by letting him feel me up. “Alright stop it,” I snap at him, forcing his hand away.

“Oh sorry, I thought that was my leg,” he whispered back carelessly, tossing his head back so that he was resting comfortably against the wall.

“Your leg my ass,” I retort, ensnaring his gaze in mine. My gaze slipped down to his tongue, which traced his lips languidly.

“Your ass?” Now he wasn’t even listening to what I was saying. Only little snippets and just the parts he wants to hear. I didn’t bother to grace him with a reply. “Oh come on,” he whined. “Humour me.”

I chuckled and sighed with relief when the person outside finally left. I stumbled out with Kyle at my heel. Before leaving, I look up at him cautiously. “A-Are you still mad at me?”

He sighed and stared deep into my eyes. “I guess I can’t stay mad at you forever. But then, if you kiss me, all will be forgotten…”

I smile shakily and with wobbly knees I turned and left. And the scary thing was I did kind of want to kiss him.

!#!#TREGDSFG

I don’t know why, but after school, I headed towards Jake’s apartment. You would think, after all that has happened I would learn to take things a little slower. Maybe take more time to decide what I really wanted, take some time to think about who I really was. Something about Jake lured me to him, if not just curiousity and lust.

The problem with me is, I can’t seem to think logically. My actions are done before thinking them over. I haven’t even figured out my sexuality and already, I’m skipping ahead to kissing another boy. Or maybe I already know, but shouldn’t my relationships be happy and bubbly like Ryan and Mel’s? Or what was their relationship. I’m not sure if they’ve made up yet. It was pretty awkward at lunch. The conversation consisted of me and….me. Ryan and Mel would not even talk. Ryan would sit to the side talking to his other friends, while Mel would sit beside me reading one of her sappy romance novels.

Just as I was entering the building the same blonde beauty from the last sex encounter with Jake stepped out. (Blonde beautythe blonde man having sex with Jake the last time) I can’t for the life of me remember his name. Not that it mattered. I prefer him to be nameless. He smirked at me, sauntering towards me. “Hello gorgeous. You look like you want to get fucked.” I stood frozen, not knowing how to respond to such forward-ness.

I cleared my throat. “I’ll pass,” I squirmed out of his reach, before his bronze arms could latch around my hips and stumbled quickly up the stairs to the front lobby. Isn’t it funny how I’ve only ever been hit on by men? Girls don’t like me very much. Mel says it’s because dating me would be like dating their little sisters. And that…disturbed me. A lot. I mean, first of all, I only get whiny when I’m uncomfortable. I’m really not that whiny ALL the time. And I can share. I know how to share. You’d think these girls would be satisfied with me paying for their dinner and movie tickets but no…

Personally, I think they’re jealous of my long lashes. They only wish they had these. I grinned to myself, self-satisfied, and knocked on Jake’s door.

I can never get past how…exotic Jake can be. Every first glance is like a blow in the head. He stood at the door, lazily, clad in low riding jeans and a white wife beater.

His black hair styled in perfect disarray, without the use of sticky, hard hair gel. He left the door open without another word and walked back into the living room. The heavy scent of paint thinner and oils accosted me upon entering. A large canvas was set directly in the midst of the clean room, a mess of colours splattered over newspapers, carefully placed on the carpeted floors. A quick glance at it revealed the faint outline of the blonde man I bumped into outside.

“You want me to paint you?” His husky voice asked from right behind me. I swiveled around right into his hard chest. A deep chuckle resonated from his lips.

I blushed again, the hundredth time today. “No, no. Don’t. I don’t want you to paint me.”

He shrugged, but then glanced down mischievously. Leaning in so that his hair tickled my cheeks, he whispered in my ear, “How about I paint on you?”

My blush deepened, my eyes widening at the prospect. The prospect that is so tempting right now. “I’ll use water colours. It’ll be like back in Kindergarten, yeah? Except with more sexual innuendo.” The last part was added quietly, but I still heard it.

He interpreted my silence as affirmation, as he pulled from his cupboard a huge box of tiny tubes of water colours. He held the box of colours and long paintbrushes with feather soft ends, staring at me expectantly.

I set my backpack down and played with the hem of my shirt. “I’m only taking the shirt off,” I said. Inside my head screamed the question, “How the hell did I get myself into this?”

I lay down on the cold, smooth marble tiles of the kitchen while he leaned over me with his paintbrush, also taking off his wife beater. I gulped, still struck by the smooth expanse of skin revealed, the lean torso and narrow hips. Except I think I’ve seen him with his shirt off more than with it on.

Lightly dabbing the brush in pale purple he trailed the paintbrush down my side. A tickly, cold sensation jolted the insides of me. Goosebumps formed in response to the light purple path of colour on my pale skin. I shivered, both at the paint drying on me and the enticing grin Jake has upon his face. Intricate swirls and blobs followed, his brush forming sensual strokes over and around the muscles of my stomach and around my bellybutton. Finally, it dipped down, just beneath my loose jeans, causing me to squirm uncomfortably. The brush was removed and replaced by Jake’s warm body covering mine.

The paint smeared onto his stomach, ruining the beautiful, hypnotizing patterns he had painted, yet neither of us cared. I ran my fingers down the broad shoulders, marred by a few light freckles. Trim muscles on his stomach contracted as my fingers ran down the side of his body. His breath hitched and his eyes darkened a shade to a navy blue.

His lips came crashing down, claiming mine, and all coherent thought flew from my brain. His kisses were passionate and possessive, capturing all of my attention and grasping on, not letting go. I maneuvered, so that my hips were parallel to his and shifted them up so that they were slightly touching. My back arched when his fingers trembled over the crotch of my jeans. He gripped onto my hips and around to my back.

Jake slowed his domineering kisses, replacing them with soft butterfly kisses along the pale expanses of skin on my upper body that were not covered in paint. Moving higher, he licked my rapidly beating pulse at my neck and collapsed beside me. We lay side by side for at least an hour before I silently and reluctantly pushed myself up to take a shower.

I felt regret course through my body as the trickles of colour dripped off my body. It was like washing off beauty. I finished my shower and came out to find the kitchen floor clean of any smeared paint and Jake with a new clean t-shirt on and storing his paints away. He glanced over at me and made a noncommittal grunt acknowledging my presence. An awkward silence passed between us.

I cleared my throat and picked up my bag. “Next time then?” I asked. He looked up and nodded silently. Leaving the apartment always felt like I was leaving behind unfinished business. And yet, I felt strangely content. It was like this double life I played. A secret that I held against the world, something of my very own.

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A/N SOOOO sorry for the long delay. I’ve been so busy. SO very very very busy. Today was the first day in weeks I could just sit down, relax and do nothing. AAAnd this week is Gay Pride Week. Perfect time to crank out the next chapter.