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Thank God its Friday, I muttered to myself throughout the next day. It moved
at an agonizingly slow pace. I counted the hours until Mrs. Beal’s class,
desperate to see Michael. When the bell rang, releasing me to Creative Writing,
I grabbed my bag and bolted towards the room in one fluid motion. I arrived
early, only one other student had beat me to class. Mrs. Beal was placing each
person’s paper from the last class on their desk. I sat down and checked mine.
95. Brilliant!
When I saw Michael walk through the door, my heart began to pound in my chest. I
honestly began to wonder if anyone around me could hear it. Without glancing in
my direction, he took his seat in front of me, pulled his binder out, and placed
his graded paper neatly inside. I wondered why he wasn’t looking at me. He then
pulled out the paper we had reviewed together. Goddamn it, why wasn’t he looking
at me? I began to get nervous. Michael scanned over his paper. What should I do,
I wondered. Michael placed his paper back in the binder and put it under his
desk. Jesus, I thought, what if he’s realized he made a huge mistake and doesn’t
want to see me anymore? I began to panic, my palms started to sweat and my mind
raced into overdrive—
“Oh, hey Jake. I didn’t see you there.” He winked at me and gave a coy smile.
I realized he’d been toying with me. I gave him a level stare.
“Asshole.” I grunted, punched his arm, and looked down at my shoes.
Michael burst into laughter.
Through the rest of the class, we shared covert glances. We were our own secret;
the rest of the world remained oblivious. Poor world.
Class ended and Michael informed me he would be leaving with his family for the
weekend. He assured me they would be back soon and he would contact me
first-thing. I didn’t let him know how sad this made me—I was still trying to
play this cool.
It wasn’t until later, in gym class, that I realized Ryan hadn’t shown up to
school today. Running laps, I suddenly remembered to look for him. The events in
the shower had been completely pushed aside after I visited Michael. Yep, Ryan
was definitely absent. Instead, I caught a glimpse of someone standing at the
gate beside the track. As I got closer, I realized it was Mr. Jordan. I didn’t
know how long he had stood there, but when he saw me looking, he simply reached
down and grabbed his thick cock through his gym shorts, smiled, and began to
walk away. I got the message: Mr. Jordan wasn’t finished with me yet.
The weekend passed without excitement. I sat on the exposed boards that made my
bedroom floor on Sunday evening, staring out the window watching cars pass by my
apartment. From the fifth floor they appeared small, like toys, driving westward
towards the setting sun that barely continued to peak over the horizon. I
wondered if Michael’s family would ride in one of these cars--
Beside me, my cellphone rang. Michael!
I flipped it open.
“Hey!”
“Mitchell. Its Ryan. What’s up?”
Ryan? What the hell?
“Umm, nothing. How did you get my number…?”
“The school phonebook, dude. Wanna hang out?”
“Well, the thing is, I’m kinda—“
“You’d better say yes. ‘Cause I’m turning onto your street in about two
minutes.”
“What!? How did you get my address??”
“Told you, dude. The school phonebook. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Shit, uhh, I’ll meet you outside.”
I slammed the phone shut, jumped up, and bolted down the hallway. Glancing
quickly into the other room, I saw my mom passed out. I opened the apartment
door and ran downstairs to meet Ryan.
The silence had stretched on a good five minutes. I shifted awkwardly in the
passenger ‘s seat of Ryan’s huge red truck.
“So… where are we going?” I asked, a little anxious.
“Just driving, dude. Chill.”
I lapsed back into silence. Coming with Ryan was definitely a mistake. We had
reached the outer limits of our small town and had hit farm land. Unsure of how
to pass the time, I resorted to counting the silhouettes of each cow in the
distance. Suddenly, Ryan broke the silence.
“Look, it’s not like I’m a fag or anything, okay? I just… it’s just… all that
shit with Mr Jordan just happened, okay?”
I didn’t know how to respond to this abruptly introduced topic. I shifted a
little in my seat again.
“Oh,” is all I managed to come out with.
“I mean,” Ryan continued. His face twisted a little, revealing some intense
inner struggle, “I got a girlfriend. I fuck girls. And I like it. Okay?”
I gulped. “Okay.” After a brief pause, I finally asked, “then why are you and
Mr. Jordan… you know?”
“What?” he asked, angrily.
“Fucking. Why are you two fucking?”
“We aren’t fuckin’. I’m not lettin’ him stick it in me dude. I’m not into that.”
“But you’re sucking him off…?”
“Look, shit’s tough, okay?” Ryan’s face revealed some intense frustration
underneath. “Don’t fuckin’ judge me, dude.”
“I’m not judging! I’m just saying, straight guys don’t suck their gym teachers
off.” I cursed myself silently for goading Ryan. He was huge—he could crush me
with one hand.
Ryan slammed on the brakes of his truck and we skidded to a stop on the side of
a deserted road. He flipped the car into park and slammed his fist against the
steering wheel.
“You calling me a faggot? ‘Cause football players ain’t faggots.”
“Maybe they are and they just don’t admit it.” Jesus Jake, shut up!
Ryan unhooked his seatbelt and twisted towards me in one deft move.
“Watch what you say, Mitchell. You have no idea what you’re talking about!” Only
inches from my face, he continued. “We do what we gotta, and I don’t need you or
anyone judging me.” He grabbed my arm; I felt how strong he was through his
grip.
“I’m not fuckin’ judging you, Ryan. I just don’t think you’re being honest with
yourself and…”
“Honest?! Do you know what its like being me?” he shouted, cutting me off.
“No, but pretty sure its not half as bad as being me sometimes!” My voice was
raised in anger.
“FUCK YOU.”
“FUCK YOU BACK!”
With that, he pulled me in and kissed me fiercely. His free hand reached down
and unlocked my seatbelt. Releasing myself from its entanglement, I pushed
myself up against Ryan as he pushed back. Our bodies pressed against each other
as hard as they could. Deftly, Ryan pulled my shirt off, then slid his hand down
my pants. I shifted my hips forward to give him better access to my now-hard
dick. He grabbed it with his rough hands and started stroking it.
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