The next day I decided I had to call him. I had to get my car back.
When he answered, I began, "Look Emiliano. I think we have to stop seeing each other."
Before I could continue, he interrupted. "I'm waiting for the apology."
"OK, look, I'm sorry I threw the squeegee at you. I apologize."
"Say it again and use my name."
"OK. I'm sorry I threw the squeegee at you, Emiliano. I apologize. Emiliano."
"That's better. You better learn your place if you want to be around me. And learn some manners. Now, I don't know what the fuck is going on in your faggot brain, but we are not 'seeing each other' or dating.
I'm coming over to drop off the car. I'll be there in fifteen minutes" and he hung up.
Twenty-five minutes later he showed up. He got out of the car and flipped me the keys. "See 'ya around cocksucker" he snarled, and walked towards the quad.
I got in the car and immediately smelled spilled beer. Furious, I went to my dorm and got a bucket of hot water and soap, and a towel, and proceeded to try and clean it up.
After about five minutes I saw something in a cup holder and fished it out. It was a used condom, filled with cum. I don't know why, but I picked it up and smelled it. It was watery and smelled like piss. I quickly tossed it in the parking lot, disgusted.
Cocky, arrogant prick used my car, used my gas, spilled beer in it, and then fucked somebody and left the condom for me to clean up! I was done with this asshole. I'd withdraw from our Philosophy class and hope I never saw him again.
Later in the afternoon, while thinking I had an exit strategy, I got a text from him. Damn, I should have blocked his number. It said "Little dude, I found a real boyfriend for you. He's in Finnegan Hall, a sophomore, named Iker. I copied him here."
Texting back just to Emiliano, I said "I have to come over and see you." I had to put a stop to this. It was bad enough to accuse me of being gay when I wasn't, but now he was telling my girlfriend and setting me up on a date with a boy.
"OK, but no lovey dovey shit" he sent back in reply.
I was there in a flash and knocked on the door. He opened it and I stormed in. "Now I know you are tougher than me and can beat me up. I don't want to fight. I just want to break up, I mean, disassociate with you. End the friendship or whatever this is. I'm not gay and I'm not looking for a boyfriend and I'm not in love with you."
He just stood there, arms crossed and smiling. "That was quite a speech, little dude. I didn't know you had it in you! Now give me a hug. But don't grab my ass!"
And he hugged me. Incredible. I hugged back. He was strong. His arms enveloped me. I could smell his AXE body spray.
Finally, he let me go. "Now what's all this shit about not being friends? I don't care if you're gay. Sorry if I called you a cocksucker. If you like cock that's your business."
Quickly exasperated again, I said "But I don't. Why do you keep saying that?"
"Chill, chill. Now sit down. I got a big problem with my math take home." And he pulled it out immediately and I sat down to look at it with him. Twenty minutes later I was done with it, and I noticed he was looking at his phone and not the worksheet I thought we were doing together.
"Oh sorry" he said when he noticed I had noticed. "Now listen. Tonight I'm gonna' score some drastic weed. Wanna' get wasted with me? Just us?"
I said sure. Suddenly relieved that he had returned to normal and was being friendly and kind again. And after all of the stress of school (and him) I welcomed the thought of a few joints to relax and escape.
He pulled off his tee shirt and put on a white wife-beater. His jeans were riding low and you could see his grey boxer briefs. He spent a bit of time in front of a mirror, combing out his thick, long black hair. He sprayed his pits with AXE, then pulled his underwear out in the front and sprayed a shot of the body spray on his junk.
Steering me towards the part of the room where his bed was, he pointed to an overflowing laundry basket. "Do me a favor and wash that stuff while I'm out. Just fold it and put it in the closet on the shelves when you're done. Then we'll get wasted, little dude!" and he quickly left.
Thinking to myself 'say what?', I figuratively kicked myself for getting fooled again, but nevertheless hoisted up his basket of dirty tees, jeans, socks, and boxer briefs and took it over to the washer to sort. He was impossible to say 'no' to. And demanding, pushy, and presumptuous.
First I did his underwear, socks and tees, then the jeans and towels. As I was folding his boxer briefs into two piles I questioned myself. He kept saying I was gay, and I wasn't, but then why was I folding this dude's underwear?
When I was done I laid down on his bed, waiting for him to return with the pot. The bed smelled like him. I saw a few long black hairs from his head on the pillow and wondered if that was dried cum on the sheet. I fell asleep thinking that this was his bed, where he slept.
Emiliano finally gets what he deserves in chapter 6, as his friend finds himself with a mouthful!
Justin