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 7 DERRICK
There was a smile on my face, and I couldn't seem to find a way to wipe it away. Today was the first day back to school after Christmas Break-- still smiling. I had to shovel my driveway to get my car out of the garage-- still smiling. The heat in my car was broken, and it was icy cold outside-- still smiling. I forgot I had a Spanish vocab test-- still smiling. The thought of talking, listening, just seeing Ryan Tarcy makes me grin.
Christmas was a very special day for me this year. I feel lighter than air now that I've said it. I've finally said it. Maybe not to everyone at school-- certainly not to my father-- but somebody knows; somebody knows that I'm gay. That somebody is Ryan. Ryan, with his soft lips and soft hair and soft skin, is the only person in the world who knows who I really am.
There's something to be said for that. Everyone in the school knows me, notices me, sees me on the football field, but not one of them really, truly understands me. That was pre-Christmas. That was pre-Ryan-kissing. Now there's is somebody-- for God's sake somebody-- who knows me. Thinking of Ryan makes my face red and my smile dries like concrete on my lips.
I've never felt this was before. My mind is excited, my fingers nervous, my skin tense, my heart erratic, and my stomach inflated. It's not butterflies. It's more than that. When there's only one person in the whole world who knows you, you become attached to that person. That person becomes a lifeline to what the truth is. Ryan has become my anchor to what is real-- to who I am.
I hadn't seen the kid in weeks, though, and it was killing me. He was in New York with James Griffin, and I was stuck at home alone with my thoughts. I had resolved not to text, call or email Ryan on his trip. I wasn't going to sit around for a week anticipating every phone call. I survived half of high school without an anchor, I could survive one more week. Today that week was up, and I planned to sneak off with Ryan during lunch.
It was third period, and due to my stalker-ish personality when it came to Ryan, I knew he had lunch fourth period. English class had just started, and I sat lazily near the back of class pretending to listen to Mrs. Dewy lecture on the themes in Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead. Something about being an individual and blah blah blah. I can't pay attention in English when I'm not preoccupied, and today all I could think of was Ryan-- Ryan Tarcy.
I felt someone blowing in my right ear, and gave an irritated glance back at Luke Morris, my friend since grade school. He was grinning playfully, and flicked at my earlobe. I reached back to slap his head.
"You've probably already noticed, but Mrs. Dewy's braw strap is showing," he whispered into the same ear he had been flicking.
"You know I'm an ass man," I whispered back, "and does Mrs. Dewy even have an ass?"
Mrs. Dewy was a frail, haggard looking woman. Her face was caked with blush, her lips were dark, nearly purple, and her hair was a frizz of blues and violets. Her cheeks were bony, her arms were bony, and, I could only assume, her ass was bony as well.
"I bet she's a freak in bed," Luke smirked.
"I bet you're a perverted teacher-phile."
Luke chuckled into my ear.
"Well, I mean, who wouldn't be turned on by Mrs. Dewy?"
"Just about every kid in the school..."
Mrs. Dewy was still prattling on about The Fountainhead at the front of the class.
"Have you seen the new kid yet," Luke asked.
"New kid?" I whispered back.
"Yeah he transferred from somewhere out of state. He's supposed to be kick-ass at lacrosse."
"Oh, well, no I haven't seen--"
"Mr. Chase!" Mrs. Dewy snapped. Oh shit.
"Mr. Chase, I'm sure you have read The Fountainhead very thoroughly, and seeing as you're so talkative, would you please enlighten the class regarding the symbolism Ms. Rand uses through architecture and buildings?"
Symbolism wasn't really my thing. Neither was irony. Books in general weren't my thing. Surprise, surprise: my dad never encouraged me to be a book worm.
"Well... Umm... The buildings are just... Umm... They symbolize..."
The class was laughing at me, and I could feel my lips twitch into a grin.
"They symbolize... Uhh... Individualism," I said, remembering the only thing I picked out of Mrs. Dewy's lecture. She didn't say anything, so I continued, "Yeah, Individualism. They're supposed to be what makes a person who he is. The buildings show who the person who created them really is. They're a... Uhh... Reflection of the architect's individuality."
Where did that come from? Ryan. That's where it came from. Ryan is my architecture. The class had stopped giggling, and most were in shock that I had wiggled my way out of Mrs. Dewy's trap.
"Well! I never thought--" Mrs. Dewy beamed, "How very astute, Mr. Chase. I must say I'm surprised. That was-- that was quite well thought out."
"Someone's getting it in tonight," Luke whispered.
I shook my head and went into a daze. I zoned out of the class and daydreamed about what Ryan was doing. I hadn't seen him in the halls, but it was only third period. I had the urge to text him last night, but I wanted today to be special-- a reunion. The minutes couldn't tick themselves away any slower. Mrs. Dewy's lecture didn't make thing any better, either.
There were five minutes left in the class when Mrs. Dewy assigned the homework. Please. I had no plans to do homework tonight. Unless making out with Ryan on my kitchen table was homework? My dad was out on business until Thursday, and the house was empty. When the bell rang, the thoughts of Ryan dragging his nails across my back as we kissed hadn't left my mind. I took my time gathering my things and readjusting my pants.
My next class was Religion, but it was a blow-off hour. I didn't have any plans on going to listen to a wrinkly priest tell me how sinful I am. My mind was set on a period alone with Ryan in the locker room. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and headed towards the door but--
"Mr. Chase," Mrs. Dewy sang.
I stopped and turned. I was the only one left in the classroom. Mrs. Dewy was staring at me with narrowed eyes. Her purple lips were stretched into a smile, and she looked almost approachable.
"I want you to know that you impressed me today. There's clearly a Romantic trapped in you somewhere. I know a student in your... position may be discouraged when it comes to academics, but you have a gift. It would be a shame to waste it. If you would like a tutor or study partner or anything, you need only ask. I have no problem helping you as discreetly as you want. You've got talent; I hate to see it thrown away."
Mrs. Dewy looked flustered but anxious. She felt nothing to how I felt, though. My face was hot and my eyes darted around the room, refusing to look inside hers.
"I... My dad... I'm not a big reader, you see. It's been-- it's been all about sports in my family. Books were never what I was pushed towards. I don't know..."
Mrs. Dewy studied me for a moment.
"Do you understand what individuality means? What being an individual entails? Do what YOU want to do Derrick, not what other people want. If you don't want to read, I understand, but don't let other people, your family included, keep you from doing what interests you. YOUR opinion, YOUR feelings, are all that matter when it comes to YOUR life."
I smiled, what she had said made sense-- perfect sense.
"Thank you. Thank you Mrs. Dewy. I'll-- I'll remember that."
With a swing of my backpack I was out the door. Unexpected? Yes. Uncomfortable? Yes. Reassuring? Most definitely. Mrs. Dewy was a nice lady, in the end. To be honest, she was the first teacher who ever agnowledged that I had the slightest hint of academic ability.
It wasn't like I was failing any classes-- the star quarterback tends to get grades that he doesn't deserve-- but I certainly wouldn't describe myself as gifted. Had Ryan's lips passed on some sort of acute 4.0 GPA ability? I hoped so.
I strolled into the cafeteria, and peered over the heads of runty Freshmen, looking for Ryan. The cafeteria was always crowded, and with everyone in the classic St.Joseph's uniform, (a white shirt with a black and blue striped tie) it was hard to differentiate one guy from another. I spotted James Griffin sitting and laughing with his friends. Normally Ryan would be sitting with him, but he wasn't. Where was he? Was he sick? Did he have some plane sickness? James seemed fine.
"Hey James," I said casually walking over to his table.
"Derrick," James looked up, "What's up? Do you have fourth hour lunch now?"
"Oh, uhh, no. Not quite. I was looking for Ryan."
James's eyebrows scrunched together, "Ryan... Tarcy?"
"Yeah?"
"Oh, well, I haven't seen him. Haven't seen him all day, actually. Sorry."
"Is everything okay? Is he sick or something?"
James continued to squint at me, "He's fine. Sorry I couldn't help."
I realized that everyone at the table was looking at me quizzically, "Oh, I just needed-- needed help with English. I was hoping-- I hope-- Ryan can help. He's good with stuff like that."
Everyone nodded slowly. Like cattle. Or sheep. But more like cattle.
I left the table disappointed and Ryan-less. My lips were no longer smiling, and I felt depressed. Where was Ryan? I pushed open the door to the bathroom to take a piss. St. Joseph's bathrooms were always clean and orderly. No one was stupid enough to vandalize them, although, there was a stall in the back of the school with the rankings of hottest teachers.
The bathroom was silent, with nothing but the sound of my long stream of piss hitting the urinal. I assumed the bathroom was empty. At least I did. I did until I heard a sound from behind one of the stalls. It was more than a sound, it was a sob. It was a sharp intake of breath followed by fractured release of air out of a nose. A sob. A cry. A whimper. Something about my own shitty disposition forced me to speak up.
"Hey, dude, are you okay in there?"
A sniffle.
"I'm-- I'm fine. It's fine you can... Just go, please."
The voice sounded cracked and broken.
"You don't sound good, dude. Are you sure you're fine."
"I'm not-- Fuck! I'm just... Please. Please, go."
I still wasn't sure. This kid sounded fucked up.
"Alright, if you say so. Cheer up, dude."
I walked towards the door, but the kid behind the door shouted.
"Wait! Wait! Derrick! Derrick is that--"
The stall door swung forward, and Ryan stood with a blotchy red face. His hair was messy and askew, his lower lip was trembling, and his fragile blue eyes were swimming with tears.
"Ryan... I didn't know--"
I was cut off as he jumped at me, wrapping his arms around my neck and sobbing into my shoulder.
"He-- he knows. Derrick-- Derrick he knows. He knows about me. He knows. He hates me, Derrick. He fucking hates me, and I hate me too. He knows."
Ryan heaved tears into my white dress shirt, and I coiled my arms around his thin frame. What the hell was he talking about? He wasn't making sense!
”Dude... Dude calm down. Seriously, shh. Come on, let's get outta' here. Come to the locker room. No one is ever in there during school. Shh. C'mon."
I pulled him out of the bathroom by the hand, and he followed me to the locker room, sniffling and weeping the whole way. When we arrived in the silent and secluded locker room he broke down again. I let him collapse in my arms and banter his nonsense. It took a few minutes before I could calm him down. Here I was, thinking this day was going to be about me explaining MY feeling, but Ryan clearly had more issues than me.
”Now, what's wrong? You're not making sense, dude. Just let it out. You can tell me what's up."
Ryan looked up at me with his almond-shaped blue eyes. Even when his face was splotchy it was perfection.
"James. James. He knows. He knows I'm... Gay. He found out in New York," Ryan choked, "He-- we got drunk, and things got bad. He told me he hated me and that I was a shitty friend and that I was fucked up and-- Fuck Derrick, he hates me. I hate me. What did I do?"
He looked at me desperately for an answer, but broke down into tears again. We were sitting on changing bench, and I lightly forced his head against mine. I didn't know what happened in New York, but it wasn't good. It was time to put an end to this shit.
"Dude, calm down. It's fine. You're fine. James didn't mean--"
"He did mean it! He meant everything. I can't look at him without feeling like shit. He was my friend, Derrick! My best friend! He hates me for who I am. I've known him for years, and he hates me. Give it awhile and you'll hate me too. I can guarantee that! Fuck..."
He was hysterical. I roughly grabbed his head in my hands, and looked deep into his eyes.
"Listen. Listen to me," I said over the sounds of his tears, "Listen. You are not fucked up. It's James who's fucked up. You're he nicest person I've met, and whatever happened, James was wrong. You perfect, Ryan. Do you hear me? There's not a single thing about you worth hating. Not a single, goddamn thing."
I kissed him then. Passionately, but lovingly. His mouth was wet with tears and his lips were salty from crying, but it was perfect. It felt just as perfect as the first time. I could feel his glossy eyelashes against my face, and his face was hot. When we broke apart he wasn't crying. He actually smiled-- laughed, actually.
"You're amazing," he said, softly kissing me again.
I brushed his hair out of his face, "I meant what I said. Don't fucking change a thing."
Ryan was splashing his face with water when the bell rang. It was time for MY lunch period. When Ryan turned away from the sink, he looked just like normal. His hair was a little damp, but his face was smooth and his eyes were no longer swollen.
"I look like shit," he said with a perfect smile.
I laughed, "You look fine. You definitely can't tell you cried an ocean into my shoulder."
"Can I see you soon? Maybe when I'm not a total wreck?"
"How's tonight? My dad's out." I couldn't wait until tonight.
"Oh, intrigue... Sounds like a plan."
I wrapped my arm around him, and we walked back out into the hallways.
"Have you seen the new kid yet?" he asked before we left the locker room.
"No! I didn't even know we had one until last hour!”
"Well I have, and all I gotta' say is hot damn!"
"What do you mean," I asked, forcing a laugh.
"Trust me, when you see him, I won't have to explain. I think he came from our of state. He just... Wow. Not to say you're not 'wow' but this kid... Wow. You just have to see him, I guess."
"If you say so..."
It was six-o-clock when Ryan came over. He would have been over earlier but I had practice. All I could think about out on the ice was what we were going to do. I wasn't even thinking sexually. Just the idea of spending time with Ryan made me happy. I practiced really well, surprisingly. I was daydreaming so much, but the energy Ryan gave me translated into my game.
I was sitting on my couch anxiously flipping through channels. Sports? No, Ryan's not a big sports guy. Cartoons? No, too childish. The News? No, too serious. I turned the TV off in frustration; I was over thinking this. I stared at the dark screen for nearly ten minutes until the doorbell shocked me out of my nervous reverie. I jogged to the door, smiling as I saw Ryan's face through the window.
"Hey," I said, giving him a look up and down.
He was wearing a pair of baggy, grey sweatpants, a sky blue T-Shirt, and flimsy black jacket. He looked great; his eyes were bright.
"Hey," Ryan said with a small smile. He looked around before pulling me in for a smooth kiss.
"Hey," I said dumbly after we broke apart.
"You said that," smiling, "Can I come in?"
I pulled him into the house and he laughed. We sat down awkwardly on the couch. We were both sitting upright, and there were a few inches of space in between us.
"So what are the plans for--"
I leaned over and kissed him. Deeply. Kissed him with a roughness that I didn't know was inside of me. His mouth tasted like honey, and I couldn't restrain myself from slipping my tongue in. He responded with the same longing that I felt. He pulled me in deeper-- closer. His hands traveled down and over the waistband of by basketball shorts. His body was warm and I could feel his heart beat against my chest.
We came up for air sparingly. I could feel him smiling as we kissed, and when I opened my eyes I saw his fiery blue coals exploring my face. He pulled my hips against his and I unconsciously began to grind my crotch up against his. His sweats were loose and I could feel his stiff cock rubbing against the fabric of my shorts. It was long and thick and pulsing. My heart beat faster as his waist groped against mine. Everything was touching. Our arms, our legs, our chests, our mouths, our dicks, our bodies were intertwined; I didn't know where my tongue ended and his began.
We stayed like that on the couch for an hour. Every so often, Ryan and I would switch and he would grind his crotch against mine as I lay back in ecstasy. There was something deceivingly erotic about the fact that we were both still fully clothed. The only thing separating us was the thin fabric of our garments, and the idea that I was only stitches away from his bare cock drove me crazy.
It was seven-thirty when we finally stopped kissing. Ryan lay against me with my arms wrapped around him like a coat. Both of us were breathing heavily, and my pounding hard cock pulsed against his tight ass. We were both sticky with sweat, but I could feel by the way that Ryan was relaxed in my arms that he was fine.
"I was being stupid today," he said suddenly. He didn't shift in my arms, however. He stayed right where he was.
"No. No you weren't being stupid. You were pissed, and I would be too."
"Don't leave me, okay?"
"Leave? What? I would never--"
"I just... I like you a lot, and I know you're popular and attractive and athletic, but just... Please."
I pulled him tighter.
"I don't care about that shit. You don't know-- don't know how great it is to have someone I can be myself around. I could never leave you. I need you, Ryan."
"You hardly know me."
"James has been friends with you for years... Did he know you?"
Ryan was quiet.
"I know everything I need to know about you. You're smart and kind and despite what you seem to think, you're sexy as fuck." I kissed the back of his neck, and burrowed my nose into his cheek. "You're the only person I can be honest with."
Ryan laughed. He laughed hard. It was the most beautiful sound.
"If someone had told me before Christmas that I would be curled up with Derrick Chase on his couch, listening as he told me how sexy I am, I would have peed myself laughing."
"If you were crappy at massages we wouldn't be here right now. All credit goes to you."
He rolled over and gave me a sloppy, wet kiss.
We spent the rest of the night with the TV off, just talking. He told me about his sister and how rough school was. He had known since Freshmen Year he was gay, and had to cope with it on top of getting all A's. I held him the whole time.
"You turned me gay," I said.
"Asshole. Really! C'mon when'd you know for sure."
"I mean it! I saw you one day in the halls and was just like... Shit. You were so fucking hot."
"You're probably the only person in the school who has ever looked twice at me."
"I wish you'd stop saying that! You know, you're not unpopular. People know you. You're too damn sexy not to be noticed."
"It doesn't feel like I'm noticed," he was smiling.
"Ugly people tend to be intimidated by attractive people, and you're a lot more than attractive."
"Fuck you! What's so damn attractive about me?"
"Really?"
"Yes! Really. What do you like about me?"
I licked my lips and smirked.
"Your eyes for starters."
"My... Eyes?"
"I can't even tell you what shade of blue they are. You could make ice melt just by looking at it."
"Well, thanks..."
"That's not it! Your face. It's always so smooth. Your smile. It's always so white. Your lips. There always so soft. I like that your skinnier than a rail. I like that your hair is blonde and silky. I like how you can look drop dead sexy in sweats. I like your ears, your legs, your ass-- everything; everything about you is perfect."
We were kissing again. We rolled off the couch with our lips still locked tightly together. I ran my hands through his hair, up his shirt, over his ass. He smiled as I pinched at his butt.
He rolled off of me slowly, and we lay on the floor exhausted. Kissing took a lot of energy, but it was energy well spent. Ryan left at ten; it was a school night, after all. When I made it to my room, I found that my shorts were lined with sticky cum. It had been a fun night, and I really liked Ryan Tarcy.
I was filling my water bottle up at the drinking fountain. First hour was about to start, and I had to jog to get to class. I turned the corner into the science wing fast, and with a WHAM, I collided with someone. Papers went flying. I hit the ground. My water bottle spilled all over the place, soaking the floor and myself with cold water.
"Dude, I'm so sorry," the kid said to me. He sounded shocked.
I was still on my ass, dripping in water.
"It's fine. It's fine. Fuck watch where you're going!"
"I'm so, so sorry. Are you good? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I snapped back. Who the hell in this school is strong enough to knock me on my ass? Stop. Knock it off. I was being an asshole. I needed to chill. It was just a little water.
"I'm sorry," I breathed, "It was my fault not yours. I came around the corner too fast."
The kid offered me a hand and helped me up.
"Thanks," I grumbled.
"No problem," he said looking me in the eye.
That was when I realized. Holy shit, this was him! This was the new kid! And yes, wow. Ryan was right. Wow. He was big. I could see, even with clothes on, that he had rock hard abs, powerful arms, and a well built chest. He was about my height, and his eyes were green-- darker and mossier than mine, though. His smile was white and shimmering, his eyebrows were raised, and the hand that he pulled me up with was rough and calloused. The most amazing thing about him, however, was his hair. It was red. Oh so very red.
"I'm new here," the boy said grinning, "Dalton. Dalton Reid."
Hi! I looooooooved this chapter. I'm sorry if you guys are completely disconnected from it, but this was my favorite chapter to write. I smiled so much while writing it. I hope it's not too mushy and corny; that's my only fear. Anyways, yeah, cliffhanger. I'm not sure when I'll write next; it's Spring Break people!! But if I get time I'll write and post sometime next week.
I love the emails. You guys are great, seriously. If I don't respond it's not because I don't wanna talk, I'm just too busy writing. But your emails are what encourage me to write so I thank you for them :) If you've got comments, questions, concerns, unrestrained feedback, constructive criticism, reductive criticism, or pictures of a flamboyant Joseph Kony send all of that to pessimistsandoptimists@gmail.com. Love ya boys.