Chapter One

"Hey, Jay!" It was way too early in the morning for this. "Wakey, wakey!" I groaned and pulled the covers over my head.

"Go away; it's too early to deal with you right now." Mike laughed.

"It's Friday, and it's six o'clock, meaning it's time to get out of bed!" He tried to pull off the covers, but I clung on to them tightly.

"I don't want to," I whined. I'm like this when it's this early.

"Too bad!" Mike tried to pull of the sheets from the side. "You're not skipping school!"

"Why not?" I was stronger than Mike; I could keep this up for hours.

"Didn't you remember?" He pulled with all his might to no avail. "There's supposed to be a new girl today, and I hear she's hot, so I'm not skipping, and neither are you! Whoa!" He flew off the bed when I finally let go. He sat up and glared at me.

Mike has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. He's at my house so much that half of the things in my room are his. Right now, his usually messy brown hair was wet, and he had on my dark green hoodie, which really made his hazel eyes stand out. He was pouting, and let me tell you, he looked sexy. I could pounce him right now, but I think he'd have a problem with that, considering he's straight and all.

"New girl?" I asked him. Mike goes out with a different girl just about every month, sometimes twice a month.

"Yeah, and I hear she's hot," he repeated. "Who knows, maybe she's hot enough for even you to be interested."

Mike doesn't know I'm gay. I don't want to tell him because we've never really talked about the subject before, so I don't know his opinion on homosexuals. And if he's not comfortable with it…well, I don't even want to think in that direction.

Mike and I don't have much in common. He's a morning person. I'm a night person. He's energetic. I'm calm. He's one of those 'live in the moment' people. I think before I act. He gets distracted really easily. I'm way more focused. He likes sports. I like reading. He's straight. I'm gay.

But you know what they say: opposites attract.

"On top of spaghetti…all covered in cheese…" Mike was singing that meatball song while I drove us to school. "I lost my poor meatball…when somebody sneezed."

He thought for a moment, and I got ready for some big speech. Mike has AD/HD, so he's always really hyper and talking a mile a minute. Once you let him start, he won't stop until someone stops him.

"Something just occurred to me; how does a sneeze cause a meatball to fly away? I mean, first of all, why would you let someone sneeze in your food and then eat it later? That's, like, disgusting. And b, meatballs aren't usually big, but I don't think they're small enough to fly away because of a sneeze. I mean, unless they're, like, as small as dust or something. But if that were the case, you wouldn't notice it anyway, right? Oh, and another thing—"

"You do realize you went from 'first of all' to 'b,' right?" I interrupted him. He replayed what he said in his head for a few seconds before blushing.

"Whatever. Nobody would notice that but you, anyway."

We were introduced to the new girl in first period.

"Class, this is Sarah, our newest student."

She was blond with blue eyes. She was wearing a pink cami and a short denim skirt. Even I had to admit she was beautiful, and she was definitely Mike's type.

I didn't like her already.

"Are you kidding me? Sarah is so hot; how do you not think so?"

We were in lunch, and Mike was mooning over this girl. I just knew this would happen.

"She's just not my type," I explained. She's female, I added mentally.

"Do you even have a type?" he asked me. Luckily, that's when Randy came over, saving me from having to answer. But guess what the first thing that came out of his mouth was?

"Damn, that new girl is hot!" I sighed.

It seemed like I'd be hearing about this all day.

As a matter of fact, Mike was obsessing over her all day. It was driving me insane. We were currently in my room working on homework. Or rather, I did my homework while Mike talked nonstop about how silky and soft her hair looks. (Mine is softer.) But really, I'd be willing to bet he was more interested with the length of her skirt than the texture of her hair.

"Mike?" I interrupted him.


"Homework, remember?" He glanced at the worksheet and grinned.

"Why don't we just do that later? We can go on the computer or something for now."

"Let's just get it done now." I hated procrastinating. Why not just get it over with as soon as possible?

"We have all weekend, and besides," he reasoned, "we only have, like, two problems left." He says 'like' a lot, by the way.

I sighed. "Fine." He grinned and grabbed my hand, dragging me to the computer.

"Let's see if Sarah has a profile on myYearbook." MyYearbook was this social networking site we discovered about a year ago. It was similar to MySpace and Facebook, but different.

He signed in and searched her name. One result came up, and he clicked on her profile.

A picture of her came up. She was wearing a purple tank top and a short, white tennis skirt. Her hair was in a ponytail, and it looked like the picture was taken recently.

Mike whistled and sent a friend request while I watched, seething. Later, when I signed in, I already had a friend request from her.

Now Mike was seething.

We were both laying down, and he was in the bed next to mine. (I have two twin beds.)


"Yeah?" There was a pause.

"Let's go skating tomorrow."

"Sure," I told him. As long as I'm with you.

I hate skating rinks. They're noisy and filled with too many people. I'm always crowded.

I hate skating. It's hard to do, and it makes me look stupid. I always fall.

I love skating with Mike. His attention is on me. I always end up making contact with him one way or another: grasping his hand to stay upright, pressed up against him to stay balanced, etc.

Right now, I was laying halfway on top of him. It wasn't on purpose; I had fallen and taken him down with me. I lifted my head.

"I'm so sorry!" He laughed, and we sat up. "How about we just take a break?" He shook his head and stood up, holding out his hand. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet.

"You just need a little more practice," he assured me. "Here." He moved in front of me, held both my hands, and started to slowly skate backwards. He demonstrated what to do with my feet and explained the easiest way to stop. I tried to follow his directions, failing really badly, but he didn't get frustrated with me.

And he didn't let go of my hand for the next hour.

A/N: I like this story, a lot. I think it's cute. Mike calls Justin 'Jay,' just in case you were confused about that. (Get it? "Justin" case?...Whatever, forget it.) When my sister was reading this, she started to read the sequel and was all like, "Wait, who's Justin?" So I just wanted to clear that up.

This first chapter was originally five chapters, believe it or not, and I've decided to bunch them together to make longer ones. Anyway, hope you like it.

Please review :)

Also, I'm adding another story, so check it out if you can. It'll be up later tonight.