Standard warnings apply: if you're under 18, close your eyes and hit the back button on your browser. If reading anything even remotely homosexual bothers you, offends you, disturbs you, or forces you to violate some asinine law, then you should certainly know better than to click on this in the first place.
If you're looking for a sex story or something to wank off to, I'm sorry, but you'd best look somewhere else. I have my doubts about including any sex in this, although this may or may not change in the future, depending on how much fiction I decide to include. This story is somewhat autobiographical- whatever I don't remember or don't know I make up. Much of it is, though, based on my life as an innocent college student's frustrated attempts at a relationship (with extra emphasis on the word `attempts'). If that's the kind of thing you'd like to absorb yourself in, read on.
It shouldn't be to surprising that I had never met him before last summer. After all, there were 6,000 students at my university and he had just spent the entire last year studying abroad in Senegal and France. Still, even though I didn't know all of the 1,500 or so people in my year, I at least recognized a good majority of them. He was a new face though, and I still wonder why I didn't notice him before.
I actually saw a couple of pictures of him two years ago, when he was a sophomore. Short hair, too light to really be red, but not exactly blonde either. He was tall and he looked out of place in the picture; probably felt the same way too. But he looked just like everyone else in this school: preppy, proud, and not my type of guy. That picture looked nothing like the guy I first met. It's a good thing that I only saw those pictures after I met him; otherwise, I may have judged him prematurely and never have gotten to know him. Then again, perhaps that would have been the better course of action.
I decided to spend the summer before my senior year entirely at home, so after a three-week stint at my parents' house complete with the obligatory parental pressure for me to change my mind and vegetate with them, I returned to campus. It was early June, just in time for the sweltering heat to greet me, but, thankfully, not in time for the cicadas to do the same: their carcasses littered the streets and made amusing crunching noises as people accidentally stepped on them. My new home-away-from-home, an old townhouse a few blocks from campus, had creaking floors, no air- conditioning, and a cricket problem. But my parents weren't around, which I guess made up for it.
Not content with being wholly unproductive, I would be interning two days a week while the rest of my days would be spent working at a coffeehouse to help pay the bills. I got copy of the shift schedule emailed to me before I arrived, so I was able to see the names of everyone I'd be working with.
Thursday 4pm-7pm: James Taylor (Manager), AJ Brooks (Cashier)
Considering that I recognized almost no one on the list, I didn't really care much about it. I just hoped this AJ person would be okay. Oddly enough, I don't really get along with most guys I meet- the vast majority of my friends are female. It's not that all guys hate me or anything, but there always seems to be some sort of disconnect on some level that stops me from being close to all but a few. Hopefully AJ wouldn't be one of those cocky, jock-type, snobs that I never get along with. I had my hopes; the coffeehouse was known for its hippie atmosphere, not as a magnet for preppies.
Thursday afternoon rolled along, and I found myself showing up to work at 3:30 (as the manager, I have to come in early to do the deposits). I was in the back office, frustrated by the lack of a calculator and my inability to add, when a guy walks into the store, past the office door. Must be AJ, I assumed, though I wasn't able to really see what he looked like. I finished counting the drawer, made the deposit, and walked out of the office. This was just my first week, and though I had worked at another coffeehouse before this, I was still meeting everyone for the first time and I didn't want to screw things up by having people hate me at the start. I tend to be rather shy at first, and I sometimes worry that people mistake it for arrogance or apathy.
He definitely was not what I expected, at least appearance- wise. Then again, I'm not too sure what I had anticipated. AJ was just a couple of inches taller than me, but he seemed to slouch a bit, and it actually took some time for me to tell. His hair was shoulder length, blond at the ends, but a light shade of orange near the top. Wearing the requisite summer attire of shorts, a crumpled t-shirt, and flip-flops, he had a rather scruffy appearance. I like scruffy. We shook hands, introduced ourselves, went through all the motions that you go through when meeting someone for the first time.
Now, I definitely wasn't struck with love at first sight or some lame fantasy of meeting the one'. In fact, my first gut feeling was along the lines of I hope he doesn't end up thinking I'm a loser'. He did seem nice, and not some cocky guy full of himself. In fact, he was rather humble at first and shy. I think it was because a lot of his friends weren't around for the summer so he didn't know too many people at school. That, and he had just come back from studying abroad, so it's a big adjustment since he hadn't seen most people in a whole year. I felt a bit bad for him, so I promised myself to be nice.
One of the cool things about working at a coffeehouse run entirely by students is that we have a lot of freedom to do things that wouldn't be acceptable in an establishment like Starbucks. I loathe Starbucks, by the way, and if anyone talks about a caramel macchiato in an appraising fashion, I would not hesitate to bludgeon them for allowing themselves to butcher the word macchiato for something that should be just called a caramel latte. But I digress. One perk we get is that we can play whatever music we want on the stereo. Well, almost any music. A few months back we received complaints for playing music with lyrics that involved the words fuck', titties', and `suck'. That led to the prohibition of music with especially lewd language. Someone called it aural rape; I disagreed. I digress again.
Anyway, I had recently been on a Michael Jackson fixation after a friend of mine and I watched her Michael Jackson Moonwalker on VHS. Amazing, absolutely amazing. Though I have no doubts that he's screwed up in the head these days and children should never be around him under any circumstances, the man could definitely dance. And the part where he turns into a gigantic robot to waste Mr. Big is just hilarious. Afterwards, I bought the CD, Michael Jackson Greatest Hits, and listened to it every day. Needless to say, I wanted to listen to it again.
"I hope you don't mind listening to Michael Jackson," I said. "I've got this current addiction and he's all I listen to."
While MJ was, in my mind, pretty much non-negotiable since I technically outranked him, I didn't want to seem bossy or anything. I figured asking his opinion would at least make me seem easy-going and not like some MJ-obsessed lunatic which, granted, at that time I was. Writing that makes me so embarrassed.
AJ chuckled. "Oh, MJ," he said, then turned to help a customer.
Well, I guess that's a better reaction than looking at me like some social reject from the gutter. On the other hand, I dress a lot better than him, and I'm a lot less scruffy. Maybe he's the gutter-guy between the two of us. Or perhaps we both are. Thinking about this confuses me.
"So you're a pop kinda guy?" he asked.
Uh oh, I thought, he's asking about my taste in music. I hope he's not one of those music Nazis that get angry if they listen to any music other than the minute genre they appreciate. What kind of music does he like anyway? He hasn't told me. Meanwhile, `Black or White' was blasting through the speakers, preaching the importance of tolerance. I rattled off some answer about having eclectic tastes, which I do, and he seemed satisfied with that. I'd hate to be stereotyped as a dork who's into teeny-bopper pop.
We chatted more about anything and everything. I learned that he was on the swim team sophomore year, but he hadn't swam in almost a year because he was abroad. That came as a surprise, since I wouldn't associate a long-haired hippy with a college swim team. He was from Wisconsin, a senior as well, majoring in English and French. The shift was slow, with only annoying high school kids coming in think that we were a Starbucks. We spent the time making small talk and reading cheesy teen magazines we `borrowed' from the neighboring grocery store. I was relieved that we managed to stay away from topics that I never enjoyed talking about: sports and girls. Finally, a guy who isn't wholly focused on football and females: that makes me happy.
The shift ended soon enough, and I said goodbye to him. AJ was a pretty nice guy from the three hours I had spent with him. No obvious psychological inadequacies, though he did appear a bit quiet and subdued. Still, he piqued my curiosity, because he seemed like someone who'd be fun to hang out with. Surprisingly, I wasn't immediately smitten with lust, nor was I reduced to a bumbling prepubescent girl. I just thought that it would be cool to work with a guy who was chill and not anal-retentive like some of the other people I had to persevere with.
I saw AJ a couple of days later while I was walking home from campus. It was late afternoon and the air, though humid, was not nearly as hot as it was earlier. Up ahead, I saw AJ turning the corner heading towards me on a skateboard. Now, I have this thing for skateboarders. Actually, I have a thing for guys on skateboards, surfboards, rollerblades, and guys with bandanas or fingerless gloves. Yes, I am certainly an odd fellow; forgive my weaknesses. But a good-looking guy on a skateboard makes my brain turn off and lose all sense of rational thought, so to speak.
AJ drifted passed me with a casual hello and nod of the head. I'm sure I responded with something similar, but the only thing on my mind at that moment was how cute he was. Notice the use of the word cute' instead of incredibly smoking hot' or something similar. At that moment I had just began to realize that AJ fit the kind of guy I normally go for. That is, if I had actually gone for any guys before and did more than just ogle. My perpetually single self mulled over this illumination over the next few days.
The next week I found myself working the Wednesday closing shift with AJ. I was covering for a friend of mine, and I was pleased to see that AJ was the one I'd be spending time with at work. Apparently he felt the same, because he smiled when he saw me. That made me feel glad inside, because he looked genuinely happy at the prospect of hanging out with me.
"You going to the keg night afterwards?" I asked. The employees of the store held keg nights every Wednesday at someone's apartment- always a different apartment since nobody wanted to host it more than once. They were a fun way to spend some time with friends, even though the beer tasted like crap.
"Yeah, you going too?"
"Yup."
"Sweet, we can walk over there together."
I smiled when he said that, even though it really meant nothing. After all, we'd be leaving at the same time for the same place, so why wouldn't we walk together? Still, I must admit that I was starting to develop a small crush on the guy. For a big scruffy guy, he could have his adorable moments.
The store director came in around halfway into the shift to see how things were going. I had never really met her before, but she seemed to be the type that was nice at times, but could turn into a total bitch at the most inopportune moments. AJ seemed to know her though.
"'Sup Monica," he said. Monica smiled and greeted him back.
"Hey, AJ, are you going to the party tonight?" Well, I already knew the answer, but it bothered me that she didn't include me in the question.
"Yeah, James and I are gonna head over there once we finish closing." At least he included me. Monica could go to hell.
"Great! Hey, I saw you at the party last week, but you were only there for a few minutes. Where'd you go?"
AJ looked a way and blushed a little bit, slightly embarrassed. That got my attention; Mr. Swimming-Jock lacking in confidence? My, what a scoop.
"Well, I felt kinda out of place," he began. "I mean, uh, I didn't really know anyone there and I didn't have anyone to talk to or anything. Yeah, so I just left."
That was not what I was expecting, and by now I must really seem like a judgmental asshole for stereotyping people like this, but AJ struck me as the quiet, confident type, not the unsure, shy type like me. Imagining him in someone's living room, alone in the corner, sipping his beer made me want to squeeze him tight like a giant teddy bear. Only I'd want him to squeeze me back too, and teddy bears aren't good for that. I thought I was the only dork around here who'd find himself surrounded by a sea of strangers, alone in a crowd. Apparently I had a lot more in common with AJ than I had initially thought.
In the week I had known him, I pretty much pegged AJ as totally straight, despite no mention of the fairer sex in any of our conversations so far. I was, of course, disappointed, though not particularly surprised. I have a growing track record of falling for straight guys. You'd think I'd get smarter with experience, but alas, I remain socially retarded. It was definitely a shame though, because AJ grew on me: the more time I spent with him, the more I was attracted to him. I guess it was because he was a walking paradox that just constantly redefined his image in my eyes. He could be quiet and unsure of himself at times, confident and strong at others. He was a swimmer, an athlete, but he was also a closet intellectual: a poet who had a deep appreciation of literature. He could be blunt and crude- and often was- yet he could also be exceptionally charming and polite when the need surfaced. All these facets of his personality just drew me to him; I just wanted to learn more about this walking mystery.
The rest of the shift was uneventful, and we closed the store quickly so we could head over to the party as soon as possible. On the way, I asked him about the previous keg nights he'd been to. I hadn't been out in a while, because my roommates were homebodies who preferred to stay at home and watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs till the wee hours of the morning.
"Well, they were ok I guess," he told me. He grinned in the moonlight. "But you're here this time, so you can keep me company."
Thank God it was nighttime and he couldn't see me blush.
I don't remember exactly what else we said to each other on the way there, but it struck me as surprising that I was so comfortable with a guy I had only known for a week. That in itself was an accomplishment; the fact that he in turn seemed to enjoy spending time with me as a friend made everything even better. I felt excited, albeit a tad nervous, about the prospect of being able to hang out with a guy I was definitely becoming infatuated with. I just hoped I wouldn't screw things up.
There was already quite a crowd by the time we arrived. I was immediately greeted by a bunch of friends and a cup of some indecipherable concoction. AJ smiled, grabbed another cup, and we toasted to a good summer. I hung around the front porch with my friends, some of whom I had not seen since the spring semester had ended. In the meantime, AJ had drifted off in doors, and it took me a while before I realized his absence. Curious, I excused myself from my peers and ventured indoors in search of AJ. Part of me wanted to see if he what he was like when he was drunk, though I doubted he'd be trashed so quickly. The other half remembered how he felt at the last event and wanted to make sure he didn't feel lonely.
I found him in a corner with the same drink in hand, chatting with Monica. I felt a tiny twitch of jealousy at how Monica was hogging his attention, but I shrugged it off. AJ looked over her shoulder, saw me, and smiled. I glowed inside. The corner could accommodate one more. Monica, though cool towards me, was decent enough. I just assumed that she'd warm up after a while. After all, we had a whole summer of me working under her and she and AJ seemed to get along well enough. I try to look for the best in people: at least I like to think that I do.
I decided to go home soon after that: I didn't want to get too drunk and be unable to walk home by myself. For a moment, I wonder if AJ was in the same shoes as me, walking home alone. Maybe he scored with a chick. Like Monica. That thought made me shudder. I got home and went to bed, thinking about AJ and knowing that I was just getting myself into trouble. I should have listened to myself.
I hope you all liked this. I write pretty slowly, so I don't know when the next chapter will be out. I'd much appreciate comments and feedback though: projectilepolly@hotmail.com