I watched him do nothing everyday, on anyone else it might have seemed lazy, but he did it with such a grace that made him seem like he was doing something, when actually, the complete opposite was true. He was beautiful, in every way, his looks, his voice, his mystery. Every so often I would look up from my book and he would be gone. Disappeared. Which is quite odd when there's no place to go. I'd often sit and wonder where exactly he went when he disappeared like that. I considered several things: one, he ditched class. That one didn't work, because he was always back in the gym before class ended. Two: he went to the bathroom, but after fifteen or so minutes, this usually became a ridiculous idea. Then, one day, my mind wandered to an idea that had never existed in my mind before (mainly because it was so cliche), the bleachers.
Whether or not you've been paying attention, you've probably noticed that we're in a gym class. And being in a gym class, a sophomore gym class, I should be playing some sort of sport. Well, I'm one of the lucky ones that get to sit out because we've seriously injured ourselves. My war wound, a bruised tendon in my ankle. Not much, I know, but it keeps me off the court, and safely on the sidelines where I'm free to watch sweaty boys run around in gym shorts. And on this particular day, I'd decided to watch this boy, see where he went. Now I know you're all thinking, "Why the hell didn't he think of this before?" I'll tell you exactly why. Being in high school is bad enough, crowded enough, but a high school gym class is worse. A bunch of boys and girls crammed into a school-size gymnasium, it's hard to keep track of one person in all that chaos. Nevertheless, I somehow managed it, watching him, waiting for him to disappear again. He stayed in my sight all period. He never went to the bathroom, never left the gym, just stood there, pretending to play basketball. My thoughts came to me randomly and incoherently, "What if he knows I'm watching him?", "What if he was watching me?", "Does he like me?" There were too many questions to think about. But I had a good feeling about the last one.
When you're like me, gay, you share something else with girls than an interest in boys. It's something of a radar that lets you know when another gay guy is in the vicinity. I'm not exactly sure how it alerts you, but you always know. And I knew. Maybe it was the way he returned my gaze when it drifted from my book to his beautiful lips. Or maybe it was the way he made sure I saw his butt swing when he walked away, like he was doing it especially for me. Whatever the reason, I knew it. Now, I watched him pretend to play basketball again, and when his eye catches my wandering gaze, he flashes me a smile that I seriously think could melt me. And it's in this brief moment, while I'm lost in his devilish grin, that he disappears. Not that into-thin-air kind of thing, but I'd been lost in him for so long, he'd actually had time to walk slowly away. And this is when I catch him "in the act" so to speak. I watch him manage to slip past the teachers unnoticed, and slide his thin, sexy frame behind the bleachers, yes behind the bleachers. I know it sounds really cliche, I mean, underneath the bleachers? That's where horny teenagers go in movies to masturbate to the cheerleaders practicing. But somehow, I knew that wasn't what he was doing. And, letting curiosity kill the cat, I shut the book I wasn't reading, got up, and limped to the source of my fixation: Chad.
I gave you a little taste of me and Chad, Let me know what you think, if I should continue with this, or give up. lol. Email me at: PheonixFire07@aol.com