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MT. PLEASANT HIGH - SERIES
Previously:
They were few blocks from East Wisteria Lane (or Ruby Street, the official name), the Journalist called back. As Josh was driving, Shawn answered.
"Hello, Josh?"
"Josh is driving, this is Shawn."
"Ok, Shawn. You guys will not believe it!"
PART 12 - JUST ANOTHER NIGHT IN MOUNT PLEASANT
"What?"
"Two items of the jewelry you got... It's simply priceless."
"What do you mean, priceless?"
"It's worth a fortune."
"Really?"
"Yes! But there's only one problem."
"Oh. What is it?"
"It can't be sold in the legal market."
"Why not?"
Turns out the jewelry was part of a collection, and there was a claim made by the Portuguese Government about it that was still valid. The journalist said his friend who told him about that could actually find a buyer.
"What's the downside?"
"There's no downside. That's just it. It's originally claimed by another country's government."
"Let me ask Josh here. I'm gonna call you right back."
Josh had to park the car to understand what it was all about.
After Shawn could explain the whole thing they had a decision to make. Shawn went first:
"I think we're done with being the good guys, you know? We've agreed to turn the money back to the justice..."
"So you think now we should just take this offer to sell the jewelry that belongs to another country. Is that it?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, we're not stealing. Right? I guess we're not stealing."
"Not from a person we're not. We're stealing from a country. A whole people."
Shawn had no arguments to fight that.
"Tell you what, Shawn, hand me the phone, let me talk to this journalist guy."
"Mr. Richard?"
"Yes."
The journalist told Josh basically the same thing he told Shawn but added one thing that changed the whole thing: those two items were missing for more than two hundred years.
"Two hundred years?"
"Yes. It happened during Napoleon days."
"What the hell... Seriously? Dammit, man, let's sell this thing already. I mean, it's been missing for two hundred years, they learned to live without it already."
"I think just the same as you."
"Do you have any idea of how much we're gonna get for it?"
"Not sure yet. But I'll call when I get a number."
As Josh turned it off, he and Shawn looked at each other and they couldn't help but engage in a hot wet kiss.
"We're rich again! Hallelujah!"
Josh couldn't help but quoting a line from Desperate Housewives when Gabrielle Solis figures out her husband got a high paid job... Shawn thought he'd heard it somewhere but he couldn't be sure. He just agreed with a nod and they couldn't hold the laughter any longer. Kissing in public was a big no-no but what the hell? Being supposedly rich changes things a bit, right? They didn't know HOW rich, but they knew it was not some loose change.
Matt waited Chad come pick him up, not only because he was interested in having sex with him but also because he wanted to know exactly what did he say to Josh and how he said it, because he, Matt, was not a monster, specially not the monster that Josh probably thought he was. Or was he? Well, he couldn't deal with that scenario. He just had to know what, how, and why Chad told things to Josh.
The jock came and Matt was already waiting for him in the drive way.
"Looking forward to meet me?" Chad had the smile of who knows his smile can actually open doors wherever he comes by.
"Maybe." That was the first time Matt dared to direct a single dry word at Chad. That's how pissed he was.
"Wow, maybe?"
"Just drive man."
"What's wrong with you? Got your period?"
"I wanna know something."
"What is it?"
"What did you say to Josh the other day before we went to the beach?"
"Nothing. I just told him he wasn't invited to go with me to the beach..."
"What else?"
"Nothing... I may have said something about him looking like a fag, but I did say he was hot."
"Did you say anything about me getting him to you in order to join you and the guys?"
"I don't know man... Listen, if you wanna interrogate me, I want a lawyer present."
"Why? Do you have anything to hide?"
"Oh, go to hell man. I invited you out coz I wanted to have fun, but if you're gonna be mooning over your boyfriend or whatever he is that can't handle the fact that he is a fag... You know? I didn't invite you for that, all right?"
"I just wanted to know."
"What?"
"If you really told him that I set him up."
"But you did, didn't you?"
"Not with that intent! I intended him to have fun as well. No one should get hurt."
"Oh, whatever! The guy is gay and he can't handle me calling him a fag? What the fuck? He should be thankful I wanted to fuck his ass..."
Oh Chad, YOU are an ass. That thought occurred to Matt but instead of saying it he swallowed it just like he was gonna swallow a whole load of cum out of Chad's cock pretty soon. Matt was weak. Couldn't stand up to defend Josh. That would cost him the 'position' he had just conquered. Chad's bitch. Wasn't that what he was now?
Matt soon gave up trying get Chad to admit he'd told Josh about his set up, he would have to do something to convince Josh to forgive him.
Chad couldn't care less.
So that's how it was to be 'friends' with Chad. But he's hot. Damn! He got me so hooked.
Not having a nicer place to go with Matt, Chad decided his 'pal' would have to satisfy him like that, in the car, in a road through the woods.
The jock parked outside the road and took Matt to heaven with his kiss. The boy soon forgot all about Josh, whatever he said and just focused on him... Chad...
Hands became wilder and searching down to the 'happy meal' concealed inside pants. Chad helped Matt by unbuttoning his pants. Matt grabbed his cock and smiled at Chad before engulfing his prize. He licked the head and went all the way down until the head the back of his throat, then he opened wider and got down all the way, until his lips were buried in pubic hair. Chad let out a moan of pleasure.
"Oh, do that again, Matt."
Matt smiled to himself. That's what he was going for. He did it again, and again, and once more... It was wonderful to drive a guy like Chad crazy. The school star reached for his butt and Matt quickly undone his button and slid his shorts down his thigh. The top boy spat on his finger and lubed Matt's ass. One finger played around the tight muscle until he entered Matt, who sighed in relief, like he 'needed' to be fingered. The finger went all the way in, deep inside the boy. As a result, Matt's sucking got way faster, he alternated 'deep throating' Chad and 'bobbing' on the head. The milk he was entitled to didn't take long to be shot. Matt, as a perfectly dominated boy, swallowed the whole thing, and was amazed of how good it tasted, every time. It was always great to taste Chad's boy juice.
Once satisfied, Chad turned the Mustang on and drove back to Matt's house, to drop his bitch and burn rubber on his way out.
The FBI agents, O'Neal and Carlson didn't have better luck looking through the Police Dept. files than the Internal Affairs and Police Chief. It was not that easy to figure out what cop was the rat. What if it was more than one? While they lost their time, Capo Monteiro was probably scheming to flee the country and go to Mexico, or wherever. That was all because of that journalist, Richard Desbordes.
Richard was taking his time writing the story. He discussed everything with his editor, that suggested different photos to go with the texts, they argued, fought, drank coffee. The day had been busy, Rick went to Mount Pleasant to meet with Josh and to the TV station where he got a sweet deal on the material he had. Said material would only be delivered Sunday afternoon, after the Gazette published the whole damned story. The next day's edition would bring a follow up story on the Capo, showing the hospital, the room where the Capo was, and there was a segment written specially by the editor, on the Monteiros through the history, how they'd always been involved with crime since their arrival in the US, back in the early 19th century. Saturday would present another meaningless story about the case, prepping up the way to the bomb. The whole thing. The thing that would link Lopez and Miles to the Darlene Mayer and her illegal acts that would ultimately lead to her disbarment and possibly some jail time, the thing that would connect those three to Monteiro family and all the facts he collected with the help of that PI. Whoa, they've committed at least a dozen different crimes. That was so good for a journalist. An endless source of crime, and HE owned it. He was the only freaking journalist who could crack that fortress that was the Monteiro family crime empire. That felt good.
Night arrived in Mount Pleasant, the city had that name with good reason, it was really pleasant to be there. It's interesting how everything looks great when you stand on the outside looking in. Behind closed doors you could find trouble in paradise if you were invited in. Chad Campbell for instance, the boy who had it all, the great looks, the athletic skills, the prospect of scholarship for a great university of his choice, he drove a classic Mustang, everyone looked up to him, every other loser in school wished they could be him. But if you looked up close, you'd see nothing's ever perfect. He was not that perfect son in his house and he also kept from his family, and from almost every one for that matter, the fact that he liked screwing boys. Gee, it was what? Almost a year since he'd been with a girl because he liked it. He couldn't risk losing what he'd got. A fag on the team? Forget it. In the house his temper preoccupied his mother.
"Could you get the mustard please?"
"Why don't you 'get up' and get it yourself?"
"Young man, what the hell? Where did you find it to talk to your mother like that?"
"Oh, shit dad, it's always like this. You don't know because you're never here, dammit!"
"I've had it! You can't use that kind of language at this table. Now go get up and take the mustard for your mother."
The father said this to his star son while pointing his index finger to him. The father did not see this behavior before though the mother had been alerting him that Chad was getting out of hand.
After dinner the mother left the room and daddy held up his son to help him load the dishwasher.
"Son, what's happening to you? Your mother's been telling me you're acting strange... Why is that?"
"I'm not acting strange, is she crazy now? You're not here, you don't know how's it like. I'm grateful school's about to start so I'm not gonna be around here to be at her order all the time. Chad do this, Chad do that, Chad grab that for me... Fuck, dad, almost everything is at her reach! Why do I have to hand her everything?"
"You said one word son, that changes your statement completely. Almost."
"Don't try and turn things around. All I want is to finish school and go to college."
"Why? Are you embarrassed? Is that why you never bring your friends over? That's no reason to be ashamed, it happens all the time..."
"Dad, I don't wanna talk. Right? I'm gonna go out for a while."
"No, you're not. After what I heard during dinner you're not going anywhere tonight. You're gonna go up to your room and think of what you've done... Of what you've been doing."
"Dad!"
"I don't wanna hear a word. Get out of my sight. And leave your car keys."
"Dad!"
"Shut up! Tomorrow you can have it."
Mr. Campbell thought that was nice parenting but he didn't try hard to put some senses into his son's head. Later that night Chad snuck out through the window and walked to his friend's house. Zack Gahm was older, but he was the only one who Chad felt comfortable to be himself. Both kids climbed up to the roof where they used to get high and share their innermost thoughts about life. Later on Chad would make his way back to his own house, when the pot had affect his brain enough to have him forget the problems he thought he had.
In Davenport's residence the dinner went through in a much nicer fashion. Josh let the "rich" feeling settle, he couldn't be a spoiled rich bitch, right? He had help from his brother to cook, and that was saying something, Jordan was definitely growing out of his childish behavior. Teens are like that. Inconstant. Sometimes they feel and behave like adults, sometimes they tend to drown in childish behavior. Who knows what they are? They're trapped in bodies that are not one thing nor the other. Their not adults, though they start to experience their bodies having all new sensations that they crave to act on, and at the same time, they're not kids anymore, though the society, parents, teachers, whoever crosses their way treat them as if they still needed diapers... It's complicated. At different moments, this body/mind crisis ends and the teenager settles out of that storm. For some it's early like it was for Josh, for others it takes a while, and there are those who never seem to get out of that stormy "teenish" behavior. Thankfully Jordan was sailing out of it, better sooner than later.
The kids made the dinner. Jordan's participation was minimal, but Josh knew better than to ignore it. The little brother's helping with the dinner was emphasized much to mom's admiration, "really Jordan, you helped?" That was a touchy moment in the house, given mom worried Jordan would grow up to be a problematic son. Dad didn't share the same worries but he was not less happy to hear the baby boy started to show some signs of "getting it right."
The parents of that kid would never imagine what had pulled the trigger for his son to improve his behavior but, across the street in Marshall's household, the same kind of improvement was being noticed, Jordan's friend, Aaron, was too being praised by his parents for acting up in a much lovely fashion recently. Moody teenagers getting better all of a sudden? Well, blame it to their also recent discovery. Didn't you know? They discovered sex together. It is beautiful though, without looking for it, two kids find themselves interested for what's within their buddies undergarments. Society would say it's a perversion because their two boys. They could be boy-girl, girl-girl, boy-boy, whatever... Deep down, many members of the society who point it out as immoral have played it themselves when they were younger... Who cares? You really should worry about raising the young to be a good citizen, and not get concerned of what he's doing locked up with his friend in his room... Davenport's and Marshall's moms and dads had the living examples of this, Jordan and Aaron, showing better behavior out of the blue. Interesting.
Matt couldn't be left alone with his thoughts because those thoughts would soon lead him to Josh. He had to find a way to get back near his friend soon, or he would lose it. It's impossible to grow up sharing everything with a person and overnight not have him around. It's just killing your soul, your energy. Josh apparently was Matt's energy. Was that right? Wasn't that a little crazy? How could be someone that important to me? He asked himself, though he couldn't extract an answer from his mirror. Now that his brother was going away again to college, he would be the only son left to be picked on by his parents. Thank God they have their couple's thing they attend to, they worry a lot about keeping their marriage that they gracefully ignore Matt a little. It's not bad, to Matt it seems perfect. He can have some time to himself...
Michael Hunter was worried about Shawn. His son was getting involved too soon and apparently too deep with this kid Josh. The last time (and only) it happened the turn out wasn't good. He felt he had no right to say much because he didn't share his son's life for too long. The burden over these two was way too heavy. But he did what he had to, given the circumstances. There was no time to try it otherwise. It could all go the wrong way and he was determined not to let it happen with his son. Shawn seemed happy but Michael knew what was going on inside of him. The guilt, the regrets, the wish to make it all go away...
Ayrton's house was all too different. The house was silent. Ayrton didn't have the chance to grow up from teenager to adult at his own time. Life slapped him across the face, took him by his collar and forced him to mature way too early. It didn't show on the outside but he was clearly in pain sometimes. It hurts not having anyone to turn to. Luckily for Ayrton that was about to change...
After dinner, Josh got his father to talking a little.
"Dad, the hospital where you work has a social program that helps people who don't have insurance and can't pay for treatment, right?"
"Yes, we have it, why?"
"What is necessary to make a person to be accepted in this program?"
"Each department has its own way of choosing the patients, based on specific circumstances, why are you asking?"
"I know someone whose father has suffered consecutive strokes and..."
Josh told his father about Ayrton's father situation and fed him with details he knew at the time. The father was interested on it, mostly because he was so proud that his son was willing to help someone without getting anything in exchange for it.
"Tell you what son, I'll talk to the people in the hospital, and I'll probably wanna meet this patient myself, but I promise you I'm gonna do whatever's in my power to get him accepted in that program, ok?"
"Oh, dad, I think it's gonna be awesome if you can help him... You know, it must be hard for Ayrton to handle all these medical bills and stuff..."
"Don't worry, I understand that."
Josh's speech reminded his father of himself when he first chose to pursue the medical career. It was not about money, being recognized, it was all about helping people to live better... Being able to feel it once again was amazing, his son provided it to him. If he was a little more emotional, he'd have cried right there, but Mr. Davenport wasn't like that.
It had been a long working night to Richard Desbordes. Alongside with his editor and other two journalists, and the graphic artist from the paper, they had everything almost ready for the Sunday edition. All Rick wanted now was to get to his shower, his sofa and booze himself to sleep. He walked out of the Gazette building as he usually did and turned to the alley where he'd parked his car. There was a man waiting for him in the dark, head covered with a hood. He felt a chill working its way up his spine but didn't hesitate. What would happen just would happen.
"Arentcha that Richard something journalist?"
"Who's asking?"
"Does it matter? I have somethin to tell ya, and ya better listen good coz I'm only gonna tell ya one time: Not all people like nosy journalist diggin' through what they ain't supposed to be diggin'. Ya hear me? Careful of whatcha right down in that paper man. Might regret messin with big guys."
And just like that, the man walked by him, with the advantage of the dark alley and the hood that would prevent identification. That voice was downright criminal.
Richard quickly entered his car and drove away while struggling to dial the editor's number.
"It's me. Listen. I've just been threatened on my way out of the paper... Yes, I don't know who's that... Listen to me. Don't leave anything on the computers. Have it all uploaded to the cloud. Please, it's important. I don't know but probably it's from the Monteiros, or the lawyer, or even the cops, who knows it? I'm gonna go down to that hotel, talk to those FBI guys... I understand... Yes... Ok, just do what I said, upload the whole damned thing to the cloud and clean up the computers, we can't have those people digging through what we know. They think they can scare us, and they're right, I'm scared to shit my pants but I'm not gonna be intimidated by them... Ok I will... Uh, one more thing, get the surveillance camera videos and make a copy of it. It can be used... Take care you too... All right, see you tomorrow."
Richard searched the spot that was closest to the hotel door. He got the receptionist to phone Agent O'Neal's room. Yes it is urgent. It's a freaking emergency, just call the damned guy!
"All right mister journalist, what's so urgent that makes you come to me this late?"
"I've been threatened."
"By whom?"
"You guys are desperate but I scratched you out of my list. So I suppose it's the people from Monteiro family, his lawyer or the cops that are helping them."
"I suppose those cops have names, right?"
"What are you trying to negotiate?"
"You said yourself, we're desperate."
"Where's the other agent? I can't negotiate with you alone."
"You don't trust me?"
"Have you ever heard of a journalist trusting an FBI agent? Or the other way around? It's nothing against you, it's self preservation."
"All right, lemme call him."
"No answer. He's probably banging someone. He always does that. Gotta tell you, that guy has a very active sexual life."
"I envy him. All I'm doing these days is a bottle of booze."
"That makes us two. Wanna drink something while we wait for him?"
"Bring the bottle over here. Don't wanna risk you dozing me with something to get me talking."
"You think I'd sink so low?"
"You bet I think! I would do it myself if I had to."
"All right. You ok with Jack?"
"And coke, please."
"I'm gonna call the lobby to bring us those individual Jack bottles, ok? So none of us have to trust each other."
"Fine by me."
O'Neal was right. Carlson spotted this bell boy while they were checking in the hotel. The ability to 'read' people they learn in FBI helps improving your sex life to a level beyond roof top. He noticed this young hot boy was checking him out and during the day he thought of at least twenty different positions he could fuck that boy. It didn't really matter if he was 18 or 20, or whatever, as long as he was not a minor and had a smooth tender body, he was eligible to entertain our guy Carlson.
Carlson met him in the lobby after dinner and requested him to deliver in his room later on something meaningless. It was just an excuse for the guy to go up to his room. The boy understood the message perfectly.
Oh boy, you can rely on the youth and their endless desire for sex. This boy could suck! And not only that, when his uniform was taken away Carlson could see what he waited for... That skinny body, small butt cheeks. The kind of boy a muscled man like Carlson loved to be upon, and inside, for that matter.
The boy sucked him so eagerly, making disappear the whole shaft. That is the magic AND it never ends. That hairless ass cracked was treated with passion by the FBI guy, the boy hole showed this boy liked to party and Carlson loved this kind of boy, the ones who are always up to fun, not worrying about love, just the sex matters.
Carlson laid on the bed and the bell boy turned his back to him and sat his light weight body on the condom-wrapped cock. It was always wonderful to see his member be 'eaten' by a hungry ass. That white piece of boy, skinny as he could be started riding the athletic guy and Carlson could see in the mirror his tiny cock banging freely up and down while the boy rode 'his horse' without a single care in the world, not even for his job. The guy was on duty at that very moment. And what a duty that was!
When the boy got tired of riding that bull he begged Carlson to fuck him doggy style. Oh yeah! Those skinny twinks that are not afraid of rough sex are the best ones...
Carlson grabbed on his hips strong enough to leave a red spot when he finished the service and let him have it. Deep, rough, relentlessly... The FBI guy felt the sweat covering up his body. That's how you do it. That's how you do this kind of boy. He'd like to make it last longer, but the boy couldn't risk being gone for so long. It had to be more a quickie than a longie. Better midterm. Not a quickie but not all-night-long-service either. He knew his way through it. His thrusting let the boy know he was about to cum so he asked the FBI agent to cum over his chest.
"All right boy, you gonna have it the way you like it."
Carlson ripped away the condom and let the bell boy have it on his chest. The boy spread the cum over his smooth chest and tasted a bit of it sucking his finger clean. He didn't even care to cleaning himself very much. Just wiped it off with a towel, dressed back on his uniform and left the room all very happy. After all, not every work night is as fun as this.
Carlson showered before returning O'Neal's call.
When Carlson got to O'Neal's room, Richard and him were acting like old pals, meeting each other for the 20th anniversary of their high school graduation. Richard was staging it to make O'Neal think he was wasted, though Richard tolerance to alcohol was beyond what the agent would think. Tiny Jack bottles piled up in the room. By the time Carlson came, Richard had already placed his phone to record every second of their conversation. Gotta be on the safe side.
"What's that O'Neal? You called me here to party?"
O'Neal was laughing.
"No man... I called you here because this journalist guy is being threatened and what did you want anyway?"
Richard started talking to Carlson and explained him what he needed. Surveillance on Monteiro Lawyer, Darlene Mayer, on the two cops, Lopez and Miles and protection for himself. Carlson agreed with all that, even with the promise O'Neal had made not to blow the whistle until Sunday morning when the journalist would reveal the exact whereabouts of Capo Monteiro. Of course, that had no legal value and as soon as Richard stepped out of that room Carlson would pull the trigger on the operation, what would ruin the journalist's story.
"You're very comprehensive, Agent Carlson. But, and this is a big 'but' probably much like the butt you were fucking shortly before, to make sure you're gonna honor your end of this treat, I took the liberty of recording our conversation. Actually I have it on video, all the conversation I had with your partner here, oh and he told me stories about you... Stories that I couldn't dare to repeat to anyone unless, of course, you don't hold on to your word, then I'd sadly be forced to spread the information on your modus operandi that, well, doesn't exactly fit the standard procedures of the Federal Bureau, you know?"
Carlson had the sudden urge to scratch the back of his head, the typical reaction of someone who's been cornered. This Richard guy was no stupid. He had them against the ropes.
"Ok, you sumbitch. I'll hold on to what I promised you. But you best be assured we're not gonna miss this Monteiro guy, or else!"
"Oh, I'm sure of that. This guy has nowhere else to go. His kingdom is here..."
"All right, you're gonna have someone outside your door when you set foot in your house."
"Thank you very much."
"Don't thank me, thank my stupid partner here."
Josh continued reading 79 Park Avenue late that night and finished the book. He was amazed at the writing style of Harold Robbins, and for what he was used to, the book had though writing, with some hot scenes. He took the poem that was inside the book once again, "One of these days" and he wondered how was this person that so deeply in love with Shawn. How did he look like? Josh supposed it was a "he" instead of a "she" for Shawn never shown any signs of being straight at any point. He'd like to know more about Shawn but he wouldn't open himself. He thought that some people were like this, preserved privacy instead of opening their lives all at once. Ayrton was the opposite kind of guy. In the second time they met, Ayrton disclosed basically every single detail of his life. And there was that kiss... Oh his kiss was good. But Shawn's was too. And also Matt's... Oh shit! Why am I thinking about Matt? Son-of-a-bitch... Josh fell asleep while thinking about Matt, the whole life they shared as friends, the improvement their relationship had since they added sex to it and, sadly, how short it was until... Oh, forget it, Josh!
Shawn went to his room thinking about the money that Josh and he would get after the selling of that jewelry. It could be enough for his father cover college and build up some savings for the future. He wished he could go back in time and do things different. That would be nice but ultimately impossible. You can't change what's done. You just learn to live with it, doesn't matter how hard it is. His phone rang to save Shawn from himself.
"Oh, hey Matt."
"Whatcha doin?"
"Nothing, I was going to bed already."
"Really, that early?"
"Yeah... Uh, wait, I don't even know what time it is."
"It's, uh, eleven something."
"It's not that early to call it a night."
"Night's still young. Why don't we meet?"
"You mean, now?"
"Yeah."
"What for?"
"I dunno man, talk?"
"Ok. Where?"
"Are you familiar with the park that's across the street where you met me the other day, when you left the bus?"
"Yes, I know the place."
"So, how 'bout we meet there?"
"Is it safe?"
"Dude, it's Mount Pleasant we're talking about. I dunno how things were in Michigan where you lived..."
"Mississippi, Matt. Miss."
"Aw! Michigan, Mississippi, Mister Sippi, whatever, Mount Pleasant is cool, you know..."
"Ok, ok, ok, ok. I'll meet you there."
"Thirty minutes, at the bus stop."
"All right. See ya there."
Matt arrived just in time, and Shawn came two minutes after.
"Hi, Shawn."
"Hi. What got into you? Calling me almost midnight, saying you wanna meet me?"
"You said you're my friend, remember?"
"I do but... I didn't read the contract. I didn't know one of the clauses were that you might need meeting me late at night."
"I wanted to talk. AND I didn't force you to come. You're like five minutes away from your house, you know? I'm twenty five minutes far."
"Fair enough. But only if Josh is not the only topic we're talking about."
"Why?"
"If we only talk about Josh, then you'd be using me, much like he claims you did to him, you know? Then I won't have any condition to defend you."
"All right. Done talking about Josh."
They crossed the street and did not mention Josh not a single time. They talked about Matt's family, his brother, how miserable he made Matt's life when they were younger, what they expected from school this year, and this moment was hard to Matt because talking about school meant that Josh was involved in it. He went through it without mentioning Josh. Shawn was proud of him. If Josh never came to forgive him, it was good preparation for forthcoming times. They sat on a bench close to each other, mostly because of the weak lighting filtered by the treetops. You know, this thing of being too close does not work out. Seriously. I mean, if there's no problem with the consequences of being too close, then it's ok. Shawn and Matt didn't have no commitments, so the event the followed shouldn't be a problem. Now understanding why they felt so bad with what happened is another thing.
As they were talking, close to each other under that weak lighting, one thing led to another, and they ended touching and kissing. It was meaningless, really. Just a kiss. They both liked it, though they felt like cheating on Josh somehow. That damned thing felt like wrong and maybe because of that it felt so freaking good! They kissed again. It lasted longer. If you were sixteen once, you very much understand that kissing at that age is not only kissing, the groping is an mandatory part of kissing. Matt and Shawn, you guys are walking down a very dangerous road. Be careful.
------ End of chapter 12. Next chapter shows the last weekend of summer vacation. The complete story on the Monteiro escaping will be published. What about Matt and Shawn? Josh and Matt? Shawn and Josh? Will Monteiro be arrested? And what about the money? ------ Feedback, thoughts? I'm here: boy-driver@hotmail.com