Average High School Life Ch. 03

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I got as far as Max stripping off her clothes in my story when CC suddenly blurted, "You're such a man-whore."

I would have thought it was teasing but there was an edge to her tone that told me something actually bothered her.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"What do I mean," CC snapped, doing an insulting imitation, "I think 'man-whore' is pretty self-explanatory, don't you? So what, you fucked this girl? Sorry this 'woman' too?"

"You know what, forget it," I said, now irritated.

"Why did you even bring this up?" she asked.

"Isn't that obvious?" I asked, "When's the last time you heard about a random BDSM scene breaking out in a random maker lab?"

"Well didn't you win the fucking lottery, then?" CC snapped.

I would have called her on the pun but she clearly wasn't in the mood.

"I've got to get to class," she said when there was a moment of silence.

The bell wasn't going to ring for 5 minutes and the class I knew she had was literally just inside the door fifteen feet away, but I didn't call her on that, either. Clearly something was bothering her. That upset me; I didn't think I was the cause but it didn't seem fair that she took it out on me. Also, it went against the whole "honesty" pact she'd insisted on when we rekindled our friendship.

It was also annoying because the past two days for me had felt like winning the lottery, and that made me suspicious. I wasn't bad looking, for a guy, at least in the opinion of a few girls I knew (my Mom always had my back there, but I assume she was biased). However, I was not "panty-dropping heartthrob" hot by any stretch of the imagination. Also, no women seemed to be elevating me from wherever I was on the scale to a 10 based on any skill I had or my natural charisma.

Given that, the fact that I'd had two random sexual encounters in as many days, one with one of my teachers no less, made me think something weird was going on. Other than those encounters, the only truly unusual thing that had happened was the non-crash of the thing from space the other day. I'd wanted to compare notes with CC, but apparently she decided to just be mad at me.

She avoided me in the classes we had together and shot me death glares whenever I tried to approach her for a chat for the rest of the day.

However, nothing else really odd happened to me. The only thing that could even come close to qualifying happened after school. I was hanging around trying to catch CC before she left for the day, waiting in the back parking lot. The lot was adjacent to the football field and track and the cheer squad was out practicing. My phone had single-digit battery left and I didn't have my charger, so I was "stuck" watching the cheerleaders practice their routine.

Anyone who's watched a real cheer squad knows there is more athleticism and acrobatics than anything titillating. Sure they do a number of splits, but Bethany, who had been on a cheer squad when she was a freshman, had once told us that cheer uniforms basically have the crotches padded like pillows so there's no chance of anyone flashing a camel toe.

So I was legitimately admiring the athleticism of some of the routines when something went wrong. One of the girls came down from a lift by doing one of those twirling jumps and landing in her teammate's arms, but somehow someone missed something. The girl landed and then fell out of her teammates arms. As she rolled, the skirt of her uniform got caught and the bottom tore, separating the bikini portion and leaving her bottomless.

She was on the ground with her legs together, so all that was really visible was her bare butt. All the girls ran over immediately to cover her, so I barely saw that. I didn't think they left enough time for anyone to grab their phone, so chances of "bare ass cheerleader fail" making the rounds of the school were nil.

CC never showed, so I went home for my tutoring session, got some homework done, then went for my shift at Central Pizza. There was no delivery to Miss Garnier, but that made sense as she said she ordered her food on Mondays.

It was the last run of the night that got me again. It was a delivery to a house in an average part of town, though when I got there I saw a lot of cars. They'd ordered three pizzas and I'd heard Bud mumble something about "not real pizza." As I walked by the cars, most of them looked at least 8 years old and what little I could see of the insides told me they were cars owned by kids like me. I was probably delivering pizza to a bunch of girls from my school.

I called the number they'd provided and confirmed my suspicion when the voice that answered squealed and I heard a bunch of answering shrieks in the background.

I knocked on the door. It opened and my mouth dropped.

A girl stood there, about five feet tall, thin, muscular, and completely nude. Her skin was olive and her nipples were dark brown. Her tits were small oval bulges around the nipples, and her snatch was shaved completely. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her expression was stone neutral.

There was a moment where neither of us did anything, then she held out her arms. "Pizza?" she said.

I heard giggling and my eyes flicked to the source. I saw four or five heads peeking around a corner. Clearly this was some sort of dare or prank, nothing like the Miss Garnier situation. I handed over the pizzas and she quickly figured out the most strategic way to hold them; the top box covered her nipples, and the boxes stuck out enough that I lost sight of everything except her feet.

"Thanks!" she said.

She turned to the side, giving me a side view of her hips and ass, then the door shut. I heard giggling and shrieking erupt behind the door as I made my way back to my car.

I was a bit dazed when I got home, but I fired off a text to CC.

"Tk tmrw as. PACT"

-=-=-=-=-=-

I got to school later than usual in an effort to avoid CC. It was petty, but she'd been a bitch to me yesterday and I wanted some payback. Unfortunately, I forgot about the part where if you show up later, all the people that normally show up after you are already there. I ended up having to park on the street near the school rather than in the parking lot, and I had to jog across the campus to make it to my first class on time.

On the upside, my goal to avoid CC was accomplished.

It was halfway through the day. CC wasn't giving me death glares like the day before and actually seemed nervous, but I stuck to my guns; I wouldn't talk to her until after school.

It's amazing the hills 18-year-olds are willing to die on.

Two things almost broke my conviction and encouraged me to talk to CC sooner.

The first happened between my English class and Math. In my case, those classes were on literal opposite ends of the building and on two different floors besides. My newfound interest in the subject meant I'd started making an extra effort to get to Math early. I would walk through the school at a pace just under a jog. Usually I was able to weave through the crowds with a few "sorry" and "excuse me" exclamations as I jostled slower moving people, but just after I'd briefly looked back to apologize after jostling someone on the back stairwell and full-on collided with someone else.

It wasn't at the top or even middle of a flight, thankfully, but it was still about five stairs up, so we tumbled. I landed pretty hard on the floor, but then the person I ran into landed on top of me. It took me a moment to recognize her.

Amy DeLuca was in my class in the sense we were both seniors, but I didn't actually have any classes with her. She was one of the top students; most of the classes she took started with "AP" and she was regularly talked about as a contender for valedictorian. However, she didn't pay much attention to her appearance. Her frizzy brown hair was usually pulled back in a basic ponytail, and the clothes she wore were always loose and baggy, making her look a lot dumpier than she probably was. It was tough to tell her body shape, but even in the looser pants she wore, her backside was noticeable, and her tits were large enough to at least push out the tops of the shirts she wore, even if you couldn't see their full shape.

At the moment, I was very aware of her chest as gravity pushed it against me, and her splayed legs meant her crotch rested right over my waist. No one seemed to have noticed the crash and the stairway was clear. Amy also wasn't moving.

"Amy?" I called out, worried she'd been knocked unconscious or something.

I wanted to check her pulse (despite my complete fail with CC the other day) when I realized my hands were literally trapped beneath her breasts. I could feel the fabric of her bra against the backs of my palms. Of course the only options for shifting her were pushing up with my hands...or my hips. I tentatively shoved a bit with my arms but they just sank into fleshy pillows. I did not want to test the strength of my thrust in moving her off.

"Amy!" I said louder almost directly into her face.

She groaned and kissed me. It was two pecks, one on my cheek and one on my chin, but she was making her way to my mouth. Before I had to figure out what I would do when she got there, her eyes fluttered open.

We scrambled away from each other, her moving immediately, me moving as soon as I was free to do so.

I started my apologies immediately. "I'm so sorry, I must have run into you on the stairs, I didn't-"

"No, no," she interrupted.

I braced myself for a screaming tirade accusing me of molestation, rape, and assault but Amy just gathered her things while looking at me nervously. Then she got up and walked down the stairs without looking at me.

As I got up, I marveled at the lack of outburst. I mean, I remember reading or hearing about teenagers and how we're all so drenched in hormones that we're a lot more permissive of touching (usually), but that was a bit more than just "touching."

I continued to my math class in a bit of a daze as my mind ran me through a bunch of fantastic possibilities. I actually had trouble focusing for a bit as I ran through the scenario of her harboring a secret crush on me, us slowly exploring it, me inviting her to prom, and us having a wild night of passionate sex afterward. Then I went down the darker hole where her lack of response was due to abuse, I would coax it out of her, stand up to her abuser, soundly defeat him while taking enough injuries to warrant a brief hospital stay where Amy would dote on me, then I'd invite her to prom and we'd have a night of wild passionate sex afterward.

Not gonna lie, the final scenes of all the fantasies were basically the same script.

I buckled down eventually and made it through math (though I'd definitely be leaning on my tutor more than usual tomorrow) and didn't have any other hiccups until after lunch.

Any good slacker knows you don't bother going to the bathroom at lunch when you can do it in the middle of class after lunch. I wasn't as much of a slacker as I used to be, I didn't think, but old habits die hard, so in the middle of Spanish I "puedo ir-ed" to the "bano" (yes I know that's not proper conjugation; my Spanish grades had been 'B's for two years...okay B-).

I sat in a stall to do my business, not out of necessity, but because killing time on your phone standing at a urinal is less comfortable than sitting on the toilet. I judged 5 minutes was probably pushing it so I got up.

The sight outside the stall door stopped me cold again.

Our suburb was not the most diverse area of the country; populations of non-white families were probably in the single digit percentages, although Asians and Hispanics were a little more common. Zoey Martin was, as far as I knew, the only Black girl in our grade, and she was one of those that made sure everyone knew it. She was admired by a lot of people but her direct, aggressive approach to almost everyone also made it hard for some people to like her.

And they definitely wanted to like her. She had a nice hourglass figure and particularly caught the attention of anyone who appreciated a female derriere. She kept her long black hair in cornrows, very pointedly correcting anyone who misidentified the style, and then styled those variously. Today she seemed to have gathered them into larger strands and then braided those, which would have been really distracting if her shirt weren't off.

Against all logic, she stood in front of the mirror topless. Her bra was off and her shirt was bunched up around her neck. Her tits were huge but a little saggy, looking a bit like hanging bags. Her areolae were enormous, the dark tone covering almost the entire front of her tits, and large nipples poked out. She seemed to be examining them for something.

"Zoey?" I asked.

"Aw shit, I thought nobody was in here," she said, although she sounded mildly annoyed rather than panicked and made no move to cover herself.

"Also it's the guy's bathroom," I pointed out, as if the rows of urinals shouldn't have clued her in.

"Fuck I know that," she said, "Some skanky pep squad's hanging out next door and I don't wanna deal with their asses right now."

I waited for a second, both enjoying the view and hoping for some sort of explanation, but I finally just said, "I...um...guess I'll just go then."

As I moved, she turned suddenly with a mischievous grin. "Awww what? You ain't seen tiddies before?" she asked, accentuating it by wiggling her chest and sending the 'tiddies' bouncing back and forth.

"I have...not yours, obviously."

"And now you gonna brag to everyone about how you seen the best black tits in the school?" she asked, advancing on him.

"No I...I don't do that. Who would I brag to anyway?"

"I seen you," she said, "You got that little pixie girl hanging around with you all the time. Probably not good to brag about seeing my tiddies if you want to get with her though, huh?"

"I...no...we're not like that," I stammered as my brain was trying to remain functional while all my blood got siphoned somewhere else.

"Don't like 'em that thin, do you? Need something nice and big to hold onto?" she teased, cupping her own breasts and bringing them up.

"I...uhh."

"Ohh, what you workin' with down here?"

Suddenly I realized Zoey was right in front of me and her hand gripped my cock through my pants. I couldn't help groaning as she made contact.

"Ohh not bad for white boy dick. 'Course your pants could be padding that out. Maybe I see what it's like in the open air?" Zoey said.

I felt her hand on the button of my pants and suddenly it was like my brain got an injection of sense. I scrambled away, practically concussing myself backing into one of the stalls.

"Zoey, this is...I have to get back to class," I said as I practically ran for the door.

"What, you too good for black pussy!?" she called after me, loudly.

I got back to class and ignored the glare I got from Mr. Clark so I could sit in my chair and get my heart rate back under control.

From the perspective of your average high school boy, I had just made the dumbest move ever. Now, Zoey was not above pranks, and some of hers were quite vicious, but she usually directed her ire at people that wronged her. As far as I could recall, I hadn't done anything to her that would warrant something like that. Her teasing could have been genuine.

Still, again, the fact that I wasn't a really good catch by anyone's measure made me doubt.

I was still a bit of a wreck after school waiting by my car. I sat on the ground outside next to the front wheel and barely noticed when CC walked up.

"Um...are you okay Jay?" she asked.

"I...I don't know," I said.

She sat down next to me and leaned her head against my shoulder. I instinctively put an arm around her, not thinking about the turmoil with her the last couple of days. The hug and the support felt nice and I was able to calm down.

"You know, this isn't going to do shit to convince people we're not going out," CC said.

"Fuck 'em," I replied.

"Well that might help, actually," she said.

"Shit...can we not joke about that?" I said.

"What happened?" CC asked, pulling back and looking at me with concern.

"Well," I started, but then a warning popped up on my phone, "Shit. I didn't realize how late it was."

"Yeah, well you didn't tell me you'd decided to add a half marathon to your morning commute by parking in Kansas," CC snarked.

"Yeah, sorry, I was running late. Look, can we meet up tonight after my shift at the maker lab?" I said.

She winced, "I'm at the shop until 10. We could snap it."

I looked around, which made me feel stupid even as I did it, and said, "Look, I know this sounds silly but I don't want to discuss this over text."

"That's...fair," she said, and I saw a flash of worry in her eyes that didn't seem to relate to me.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Then she looked around nervously and said, "We don't have time now. Just drive me home."

I did. The ride was silent but it was companionable rather than awkward. We both seemed to just be taking the opportunity to relax.

When we got to her house, she turned to me and said, "Look, I'm really sorry about the last two days. You were right; I made you promise to be honest and I was holding back and taking it out on you."

"Well, you did warn me I might have to call you on it," I said.

"Fine, fine, but you shouldn't have to. Anyway, we need to talk about this. Tomorrow at lunch?" she suggested.

"Yeah," I agreed. After another hug, she left and I drove to the maker lab.

-=-=-=-=-=-

The shift at the lab was mostly normal, except three different people came in to 3d print odd objects that I had serious suspicions about. Two looked like oddly shaped miniature boat anchors, and someone else printed a wand-type object that flared at both ends and curved slightly along its length. It had a slot in the middle where something obviously clipped in, but I couldn't figure out the function. Then someone came up to the desk and asked if the lab was capable of printing things with "thermoplastic elastomers." After getting him to repeat it out loud twice and write it out, I still had no idea what those were and told them that wasn't something they could do in the lab.

My first two classes the next day went off without a hitch. Then came gym.

I had been watching Zach all week, and I noticed the telltale bulge in his bag every time I looked for it, though he never let the actual bottle slip out again. It concerned me, but ever since that day Zach was wary when I came over to him, so I just gave him a friendly "hi" each time.

Coach Porter was as stereotypical a high school gym teacher-slash-football coach as you could get. He taught one class of remedial social studies that tended to be filled with members of the varsity football team, and the history he taught only went as far back as the team's previous game. He had of course been a varsity player himself, was supposedly part of a winning college team and was briefly on the roster for a pro team, although when pressed he claimed it was a team that didn't exist anymore, and he was only on the roster and never got play time. To round out the picture, his current (third) wife was twenty years his junior, and you could find a picture of her in the team photo of the varsity cheer squad from five years ago.

That said, he didn't creep on the girls any more than most living males did, he recognized people in gym were not going to be pro athletes and had disabilities and issues that had to be accommodated, and our football team had a winning record and two championships over the past ten years.