A/N: I couldn't find any motivation to write, but I think I've found some. :) I've always liked the idea of perfection and all that crap. And now this is perfection with flaws. I don't know, 'cause you've got this guy who isn't perfect to some people 'cause he likes BOYS, but then he's going to be perfect to other people 'cause he does... Sorry, I'm rambling. :D

PS. I kind of replaced the first chapter with the second by accident, but because i didn't have the first chapter stored on my dads computer, I had to wait until I got back to my mums to make it right. :S Should be fixed now, though!

Priceless

Chapter One

Anywhere, Dude

It had been a good morning. I’d had three cookies for breakfast, a black coffee and I was back on the road. If it really did only take four days to get to get to Greeneck College from here, then I’d make it to my best friend’s wedding! I mean, I know I probably wouldn’t fit in my tux anymore because of my poor diet since I‘d been travelling - either it’s been too unhealthy so I’ve become too fat, or I’ve eaten too little and my pants will slip to my ankles, but I’d get there before it was too late, anyway.

But God, eighteen and getting married!? I knew letting him out of my sight wasn’t a good idea, but you’d think some guys could handle a little independency… Wilson, especially, since he always hated it when I ordered him about but I guess not. And I’ll be bunking in a fucking college dorm just to make the ceremony!

And also, if it’s worth mentioning, I’ve always thought Wilson swung more towards boys than girls, anyway. I guess he just changed - what with being away from my charm and all.

I accelerated a bit more, wondering whether Wilson was secretly shagging the guys in his dorm. I wouldn’t be surprised (its the sort of thing I'd do given the opportunity) but Wilson’s hot and I’ve met his friends a couple of times and they’re hot, too. Or maybe, as his mother likes to say, he’s simply gotten over his 'phase’.

Oh God, she’d be unbearable if he did get married. (To a girl!) She’d beall “I told you so, Morgan Van King!” and all “I knew it was your bad influence, you little gay!” and chase me down the street with her lawn mower and flowery deck chair. So I'd have to visit my parents in the dead of the night to stop her poking her big fat homophobic head over the fence and gloating at me. Good thing this marriage thing isn't happening.

And with that thought, I caught sight of the most perfect looking guy I had ever seen.

I slowed down, firstly for a better look, secondly because I realised that he wanted to hitch a lift, and thirdly ‘cause of thinking of all these hot guys sharing a dorm, I was kind of horny.

You notice his bright blue eyes first, but he had amazing bone structure and shaggy blonde hair that kind of fell over his eyes and glinted in the dull sunlight.

We locked eyes and I stopped the jeep, figuring I could do with some company; otherwise my good mood would be wasted.

I flicked the radio off, Nirvana’s Rape Me dying out instantaneously, and I leant over and opened the door.

He was tall, maybe almost six foot and he looked at me, waiting for me to say something.

It was hard to think; really hard.

“Uh,” I said. “Where you going?”

And he looked at me steadily, kind of nonchalantly, but maybe with a hint of hopelessness if you looked hard enough. “Anywhere, dude.”

“Sweet,” I said, pulling my jacket off the floor in front of the passenger seat and tossing it in the back.

He was easily the best looking guy I’d ever seen, but I didn’t say anything until we’d been back on the road for a few minutes. I was aware of his eyes watching me and as much as I wanted to watch him more than I wanted to watch where I was going, I liked being alive better. But only just.

Finally, I said, “I’m Morgan.”

“Curt.” He paused, “Where you headed?”

I glanced at him; his blond hair was windswept, he had a worn black back pack on his lap and wore ripped jeans and a fraying gray sweater.

“Greeneck College,” I blurted out, kind of forgetting to answer ’cause I’m stupid. “This guy I know is getting married. Its gonna be a big thing on campus, they‘re well known, apparently. Her parents don’t know a thing about it though.”

I smirked to myself, laughing at this Sarah girl Wilson was pledging eternal monogamy to. Her parents completely disapproving, they thinkthetalk of wedding had been forgotten already - but getting married now, what were they proving?

I saw a small smile curl on Curt’s lips, but my eyes were really focusing on the road ahead of us.

“You don’t sound too thrilled.” I could still feel him watching me and I wanted to squirm.

I shrugged. “Yeah, well.” I paused, because I wasn’t going to go into it, but then figuring I would, ‘cause it didn’t really make sense in my head and I’d had no one to talk it over with apart from the nice waitresses at the roadside cafés that probably wouldn’t be interested unless it came with a tip for listening. “Okay, right. Well, this guy, my best friend kind of, he’s always swung more towards the boys’ side than the girls’, yeah? But thenas soon as he’s in another state, he’s turned into another straight…”

Curt laughed at this, and thatobviously wasn't the story he had been expecting and I got the impression he wasn’t all that used to gay issues and stuff, but he tried not to show it. That was kind of nice of him, but it wouldn’t have bothered me if he’d been obvious about it.

He struck me as good guy, if not slightly cautious of me as if I might bite any second and more thoughtful that I would have expected just by looking at him. I guess something real bad had happened to cause him to hitch a ride to anywhere else - if he was that wary of people.

I didn’t think he grew up that way, ‘cause he looks like the guy who would have had it easier than most.

The most obvious point: he was good looking. Its kind of shameless the wayworld treats good looking people in comparison to the lesser attractive ones. And he was athletic, too, a lithe toned body and there was a confident air about him that gave me the impression he was good at what he did, too. And finally, he might have been hitchhiking, and he might have been wearing ripped clothes too, but the jeans were Levis and he had a silver Rolex.

He would have been one of those kids that dominated high school. I was intrigued because I didn’t know what this sort of guy had to run from.

But back in reality, “Do you,” and he stopped, but I guess he was way too curious to abide by the laws of politeness crap upon first meetings… and stuff. “Do you swing that way?”

And I’d known by telling him of Wilson’s treachery against gayness and my slight aversion at him acting straight again, I was offering him some insight into my own sexuality and instead of overlooking it, or missing it, he was actually asking me outright.

“Depends what day it is,” I smiled at the road, and took the second exit.

“What day is it today?”

I didn’t dare say ‘Your lucky day’ which I was very, very tempted to do, but I knew I would have died of shame after.

Instead, I settled with, “Oh… Tuesday.”