Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real life events or people are purely coincidental. This story is about love and lust and loss, the three most entertaining things in the world! When deemed necessary, there will be sex. If you are offended by sex, why are you on this website? Get out now. If you are underage and reading this... Well, there's worse stuff you could be doing illegally; you should still hit escape though!!! Rebellious delinquents...
Chapter 3 DERRICK
"One... Two... Three... Four..."
It was Christmas Eve, but that didn't stop me from coming up to the nearly empty gym to workout. Sweat pored from every pore of my body, every muscle ached, and my I could feel the blood pumping ferociously to my throbbing skull. Yet, despite the pain and sweat, I was at home. Working out brought me peace of mind. All my energy was concentrated on lifting the weights, and I didn't have the ability to think. I glanced at the clock. My dad said I had to be home by six-thirty; I had better go. A four hour workout wasn't enough to clear my head, but it would have to do.
My name is Derrick Chase, and despite what other people will tell you, I'm a pretty normal guy. I mean, I like to think of myself as normal. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm the most fucked up guy on the planet. After the week that I had, I don't know anything anymore. Forget it, I have to get home.
I walked into the empty locker room to get my sweats and my wallet. I live about a mile away from the gym, and I prefer to walk. I save gas money, and walking lets me think. I don't have enough time to think, but I need it. I need time. I need to think. I don't know what I need, honestly.
After gathering all my stuff I walked out into the cold afternoon. The sky was grey and overcast. A few flurries of snow were blowing in the wind, and there was hardly a car on the street. Christmas Eve was a big thing for the uppity suburbs where I lived. The whole holiday season, to me, seemed so fake. The stale music, the high handed ideals... I may be slightly biased though. I never really celebrated Christmas the way everyone else did. Well, I guess I probably did back when I was really little. Back before my mom passed away. Now, I can't remember a Christmas tree ever entering my house.
I turned left at the driveway to the gym, and continued down the sidewalk towards my house. Snow covered everything, and ice cracked underneath my feet. I could see the footprints from when I walked to get to the gym; I tried to follow the same path to get back to my house. The air was bitterly cold, but luckily not windy. I was bundled up in a warm, winter hat and a thick coat. I spotted a chunk of ice on the sidewalk and decided to kick it down pavement.
Let the thinking begin...
Five days ago I-- Maybe I should start from the beginning. It's better if you know the whole story. The whole story is always much better than fragments. "My dear, I don't give a damn." is nothing without nearly a thousand pages of information. (Gone With the Wind <3) Freshmen Year, I came into high school and was pretty much unanimously proclaimed stud of my year. I didn't ask to be the most popular kid of the school, I'm not really sure I wanted to be, but I was, nonetheless.
My dad pushed me, all through grade-school, to be good at sports-- all sports. He made me play football, soccer, tennis, baseball, lacrosse, hockey, basketball, even wrestling for a little while. I was only in eighth grade, and could probably tackle and throw better than all the kids in their senior year at high school. I wasn't talented, as a lot of people said. It irritated the fuck out of me when people said that I was 'blessed' or that I had a real 'gift.' I'm not gifted at all! I had dad who worked my ass morning, noon, and night ever since I could swing a plastic baseball bat. I practiced constantly and trained every day; that's why I was good. Not because I was born with a bunch of talent.
Anyways, Freshmen Year I was ordained king of the hallways and prince of the practice field. I felt like I never got go through the experience of high school, though. Don't get me wrong, I was happy as hell that I was popular the minute I walked in the door, but I felt like I was forced into my 'social class,' and I never really had a choice as to who my friends were. I went to an all guys school, but I felt like, even with guys, we had our cliques. The football jocks, the soccer guys, the whiz kids, the drama nerds, the track boys... I would have liked to experiment a little, but my dad would never hear of that. I was varsity quarterback from the moment I graduated middle school.
I still got to interact with other kids. Being who I was, I could talk to whoever I wanted, and not suffer any repercussions. I liked other people who weren't meatheads. Intelligent people are way more fun to talk to. I would chat with some of the guys in the play, I would make small-talk with the kids on the debate team, but there was one kid who, ever since Freshmen Year, I really wanted to talk to. His name was Ryan Tarcy, and even though I had never said a word to him, I wanted to know him.
I never had any classes with Ryan; he was way smarter than me. I would see him in the halls though... He stood out. It was about two weeks into my first year of high school when I first noticed him. He was getting books out of his locker, and I never saw a guy look so sexy hauling textbooks from a metal hole in the wall. He was bent over; his fair, blonde hair hung over his face, and he had the cutest body I had ever seen. He was thin as a rail, but didn't look awkward. His arms were slender, his cheekbones high, and his butt was tight and compact. I had seen plenty of guys naked in the locker room. I had seen dicks of all shapes and sizes. I had seen asses that were round as the moon. I didn't care about any of these things. When I saw Ryan Tarcy brush his hair from his face, and look up at me with his curious, deep blue eyes, I wanted him. I wanted him naked. I wanted him exposed. I never considered myself remotely gay, at that point, but after I came to the thought of his cute body, my sexual confusion began. I never talked to him all Freshmen Year, but I always took notice of him in the halls. I would catch him staring at me; our eyes would meet and he would quickly look away. I would keep staring.
Sophomore Year things got complicated. I started to drive, there were parties every weekend, and girls. Yes, girls came into the picture. They all wanted the sexy quarterback. They didn't really like me; they didn't really know me. They just wanted to be able to say that they got to sleep with me. Girls can whine and moan all they want about how guys do nothing but use them for sex, but they're no better. Trust me. I turned all of them down. I wasn't about to lose my virginity to some skank who couldn't even spell the word 'obtuse.' Obviously, that's not what I told the guys in the locker room, but I remained a virgin, despite the crazy parties.
I never saw Ryan at the parties. I would always look out of curiosity, but he was never there. That surprised me a little, seeing as he was best friends with the king of party planning: James Griffin, who went to and hosted nearly every blowout. The dynamic between them confused me. I mean, on one hand you have the popular party animal, and on the other you have the docile, track runner. Those two personalities didn't seem to click together, but they were best friends. I would ask James about Ryan every once in awhile. I tried not to be creepy: just the mention of his name or something like that. I wanted to get to know him, but was too nervous to do it directly. I learned about him through other people instead.
I finally did get to have a class with Ryan in the fall: drivers ed. It was an after school class from six to eight. I was worn out from football practice the first day. I staggered into the the first desk I saw; I didn't even notice the dreamy little blonde in the back of the class. The second day I did. Seats were already assigned, so I was basically miles away from him. I would give him a glance before I sat down every day. I thought he noticed. I hoped that he noticed.
I did end up dating a girl in the middle of January. Her name was Sabrina Leon, and she was the hottest girl at St. Catherine's; I did, after all, have a reputation to keep up. I would finger her every once in awhile, and she would blow me when she felt like it. But we never had sex. That's actually why we broke up. I refused to have sex with her. She was nice, though; not slutty. She just wanted more commitment and I wasn't ready that. I still was unsure whether or not I even liked girls at that point. All the guys were cool to me when we broke up, and Sabrina never told anyone the real reason why she ended it. Thank God.
Now, I want to be clear, I do have friends. Real friends that is. I've known Luke Morris since I was six. He and I have been playing football since middle school, and he's one of the few people I am honestly friends with. Our dads both ride us hard, and we have a lot of common interests.
Luke and I got into a bunch of trouble Sophomore Year. Rather, Luke started the trouble, and I had to save his ass. You see, Luke is a piss poor drinker. He can't hold down more than a couple of beers, but that doesn't stop him from guzzling half a bottle of vodka every weekend. He gets drunk faster than anyone I know. He's also a crazy drunk. Like off the wall crazy. One weekend in the spring he climbed on top of the school and threw pebbles at the cops who were called due to the disturbance. I had to basically carry him back to my house; he passed out after sprinting from the police. I love him though. I've never really fantasized about him, though. I mean, I have a little, but I don't get chills thinking about him. Not like when I think about Ryan.
Junior Year finally came around, and after a wild summer, I found myself back in school. I had almost forgotten about Ryan over the break, but when I saw him again... He was this enigma. He was smart but sexy. He was skinny but hot. He was nerdy but stylish. I could never get up the nerve to go talk to him. If he was a girl, I would have no problem, but he wasn't. He was a guy. I wasn't comfortable just going up to talk to this kid I had never met before. What do I say? What if he's not gay? What if he's critical if me because I'm such a dumb jock? I think I still wasn't ready to absolutely commit to being gay. Talking to Ryan would confirm my sexuality; I wasn't prepared to do that. So I continued my admiration from afar. Maybe Senior Year.
Everything came crashing together the night of the Christmas Dance. I didn't actually go to the dance. I was asked by a million different girls, but said no to all of them. I hated dances. I did go to the after party, though. It was at James Griffin's house, and he always threw a good party. I left after things got too drunk, wild and crazy. While driving, I saw this lone figure jumping up and down in the blowing snow. When Ryan Tarcy got in my car, my heart stopped. I didn't know what to do! Rather than take him home, I took him to my house. We slept in the same bed. I had never slept in the same bed with another guy before, but I tried to make it clear to Ryan it was not a big deal. He was super drunk. He would've done anything I said, but I'm not one to take advantage of the wasted.
When he woke up the next morning, he was still out of it. I drove him back to James's house, but first I gave him some clothes of mine to wear. Partly because I didn't want to send him away with cold, snow drenched clothes, and also because I wanted to have an excuse to talk to him again.
So, back to where we began. Five days ago I met up with him. He met me after my hockey game. I took him back to my house; even though we won the game, I skipped the victory parties. Ryan was more important than any night of drinking and girls.
I asked him to give me a massage. I told him I was sore because of the hockey game, and I was actually slightly surprised when he agreed. All I could think of as his hands rubbed at me was whether or not he was gay. When he was done with my massage, I took my chance.
I asked if I could give him a massage. He didn't need that much persuading. Things got out of control. I jacked him off and almost kissed him. Our lips were centimeters apart when his phone rang. I was embarrassed. It was my first time ever giving into an honest, sexual urge, and it didn't go like I planned. It was ruined with a phone call, and when Ryan looked up at me, almost pityingly, I couldn't take it. I didn't sleep at all that night. I tossed and turned and tried to get what had happened out of my head, but I couldn't. I was ashamed of what I did. If I had been taught one thing, it was that being gay is not okay. Between my father and my Catholic school, that was what I knew. I felt guilty for dragging Ryan into my problems and my life and my insecurities. It wasn't fair to him. I spent the whole rest of the week pumping as much iron as possible, trying to get thoughts of Ryan out of my mind. If being gay was so wrong, why did what we did feel so perfectly normal? So natural?
The chunk of ice that I had been kicking ricocheted off my front porch; I was home. The sky was already darkening, and I could see my dad through the window watching T.V. with my older brother.
I do have an older brother. His name is Trent and he's in college. We were really close when he was still around. He was who I would go to when my dad got too irritating. We would stay up until late at night trash talking him, and saying things we would never dare whisper in his presence. Trent was never as big of an athlete as me. He grew up when my mom was still alive, and my dad wasn't as harsh. When she died, he was already starting high school. He escaped the blunt of my dad's controlling authority. I loved Trent. He didn't come around too often, but when he did, things always went well.
I walked into the house and closed the garage door behind me. I walked through the living room and into the kitchen to get some food.
"How was your workout, bro?" Trent asked, looking away from Sportscenter.
"I wish I had left earlier, I didn't get as much time as I wanted in." I said between a chug of water.
"Four hours is plenty, dude! Especially for Christmas Eve. You deserve a break."
"I don't know about that," my dad spoke up. It was only a matter of time. "After the way they played last weekend, I think he should have left the house earlier and clocked in more hours."
The statement was directed at Trent, but I responded.
"We won the game, that's what matters. And I was pretty good out there. I'm not responsible for everyone else."
"Oh, you're not, are you?" He was still fixed on the T.V. "You're a superstar who's above the rest of the team, is that it? You're only as good as you're unit, boy. Don't ever forget that."
I gave Trent a look and walked up to my room. It wasn't worth the argument. When I got to my room, I began to get changed. I had just slipped my boxers back on when Trent knocked.
"Boy, it's gonna be a fun Christmas this year," he said smiling
"Easy for you to joke about it! You haven't had to put up with him all year."
"I'm the lucky son. Listen, do you wanna go out with me tonight? I was gonna go up to the bar and have a drink. It's not like we have plans for tonight."
I was happy Trent said this. I was really not looking forward to another Christmas Eve locked up in my room... Jerkin off.
"You mean dad's not cooking a delicious Christmas feast? I was really looking forward to it!"
Trent laughed, "Get your clothes on pretty-boy, and meet me downstairs. I don't wanna wait around here much longer."
I slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt, and met my brother at the front door. The bar was empty. I was surprised it was even opened, but the old guy at the counter looked kinda happy when we came in. He didn't even card me when I asked for a beer. Isn't that cheery? Isn't that just in the spirit of the season? I couldn't keep myself from wondering what Ryan was doing? His Christmas was probably loads better than mine. He probably had a normal family. I glanced at my phone. I could text him. Maybe I should. This day can't get worse. If he didn't respond, it wouldn't matter at this point.
Me: hey
I waited a few minutes-- took a few sips of my beer.
Ryan Tarcy: hey, hows your xmas eve?
I felt a weight lifted off of my back; he responded.
Me: shitty. I hope yours is better?
Ryan Tarcy: haha how can christmas be shitty?? and mines good.
Me: my dad refuses to celebrate any holiday :/ so im out drinking with my bro
"Who ya textin?" Trent asked. We were playing pool now, and I was up.
"Just a friend," I said. I think I blushed a little.
"You say she's just a friend," Trent sang.
"It's a guy... Soo..." I smiled
Trent just smiled back, and my phone vibrated suddenly.
Ryan Tarcy: im sorry. my dads an ass too. He tones it down around the holidays though.
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again.
Ryan Tarcy: do you wanna come over?
My heart beat a little faster.
Me: you dont have to do that. I dont wanna intrude.
That sounded modest.
Ryan Tarcy: okay... im sorry
Not the response I was looking for. I looked at the clock; it was ten after nine.
"We should probably get back," Trent said, seeing me check out the time.
"Yeah..."
When we got home I went straight up to my room. I thought if Ryan and our night together. I was gay. I was gay and I knew it and I liked it and I wanted Ryan. I wanted Ryan Tarcy. There was no other way to put it. I spent the whole week trying to black out who I really was! That's more shameful than being gay. I looked at my phone. The way he texted sorry-- the way he apologized before he left my house-- he didn't have anything to apologize for. I snatched my car keys off the dresser, and sprinted downstairs. It was half past eleven.
Me: whats your address?
Ryan Tarcy: umm? 22429 Willow Way. its off of Oakwood Drive. why?
I hopped in the car and drove. It was time to set things right. It didn't take long to get to Ryan's house. I saw his Ford Focus parked in the driveway and parked behind it. A hopped out of the car and knocked on the front door.
...
...
...
The door opened.
"Hey"
"Hey"
"What are you doing here?" Ryan asked. He was in his pajamas, "I mean, it's kinda late,"
"I needed to see you--talk to you."
"Oh."
"Do you have a sec?"
"Yeah. Yeah-- come in."
Snow was starting to fall lightly.
"I was actually thinking," I began, "could we take a walk?"
He gave me a look.
"Lemme go get some warmer stuff on. Wait for me inside, at least."
I stepped into Ryan's house. The banisters were adorn with Christmas decorations, and holly hung from the ceiling. The fireplace was on, and the the whole house was warm. I could hear people talking in the dining room, but I just stood awkwardly in the foyer. I didn't want to intrude; I just wanted to talk with Ryan.
"Alright, let's go." Ryan was trying to grin at me from the top of the stairs.
He looked amazing. He was wearing some loose fitting, black jeans, a green, collared shirt, and a bright red sweater. He looked sexy and Christmasy all at once. I just smiled at him and opened the door.
The snow was falling somewhat hard. It was more than just flurries, but nowhere near to what it was like when I saved Ryan from that blizzard. That all seemed so long ago. I followed Ryan down his driveway and onto the sidewalk. A dusting of snow covered the pavement, but the grass, trees, and houses were cloaked in a think blanket of crystal. A few houses had their Christmas lights on, and the glow reflected onto the snow, splashing the night sky with dozens of dazzling colors. Ryan walked on my left; his shoulder brushed up against mine slightly.
"Listen, Derrick, I don't want things to be weird." Ryan started the conversation, "I promise I won't tell anyone what happened last weekend. I swear. It was an accident. You didn't mean to do it. You had just won the hockey game, no one was home, and things just... If you're worried that I'm gonna say anything..."
I looked at Ryan. He seemed nervous, but he also seemed like he meant everything that he said.
"I'm gay." I told him.
"What?"
"I'm gay. I'm gay and I like guys. And I like you Ryan. Ive liked you for awhile, and maybe that's fucked up, and maybe it's a sin, but it's who I am. I can't help it. When I picked you up in the snow, it was the luckiest day of my life. You're nice and you're smart and you're so goddamn sexy. I don't-- I don't know if you're gay. I don't care. I'll like you either way. But you need to know one thing: last weekend was not a mistake. At least not for me. It was not an accident and it was not a fluke. Everything that happened, I meant to happen. I've been trying to cope with how this all worked out. I've really had to come to terms with a lot about myself, but I can't do it alone. I need you. I need you to show me what I am-- who I'm meant to be. Because I'm so confused Ryan--"
I felt tears well up in my eyes and splash across my face. I saw Ryan look up at me. His blue eyes were like hot, blue fire. He had a hard look on his face. Not like stone, but like diamond. He threw his arms around my neck, and kissed me. His soft lips met mine and we were kissing. I pulled him around the waist, and we were kissing. His lips parted slightly, and we were kissing. My tongue ran across his, and we were kissing. The snow whipped around us like flecks of glass, and we were kissing. We fell, intertwined, into the snow, and we were kissing. The cold wrapped around us like a blanket, but we didn't feel a chill because, we were kissing. Kissing and kissing and kissing.
TBC
Hi. I'm soooo sorry this took so long. I'm actually in New York City. I got here today, and have been prepping for the trip all week. I had no time to write. I finished the chapter on the plane. I didn't choose an editor. Sorrrrrrry. It's been a crazy week. This chapter probably blows because it was so rushed, but I tried to make the ending good. The next chapter will be sooooo perfect, I promise. I already know what I'm gonna do.
I'm having tons of fun in NYC, but I'm under 21 and I can't do a lot of the really good stuff. If anyone has suggestions for cool things to do in New York at night, I'm here until Wednesday. So, comments, questions, concerns, invitations to drug raves, post cards from Nicaragua, and SUGGESTIONS FOR WHAT TO DO IN THE BIG APPLE, please send all that to pessimistsandoptimists@gmail.com. I love the emails I get! Please keep them coming; they make me write faster. My inbox is my muse. Thanks for reading :)