Just For the Week Ch. 01

Just For the Week, Ch. 01

Chapters 2 & 3 will be published soon.

I'm in my room with my lab partner. Experiments have been conducted and data has been recorded, but now we have to prepare for tomorrow's presentation to the class. We've been at it for over an hour, but there's still so much to do. I ordered a pizza. We'll be at this all night.

My lab partner is sitting on my bed while I swivel back and forth in my desk chair. My house is a no-shoes house, so we're both in athletic crew socks -- me Nike and him Addidas -- while our pairs of shoes keep each other company downstairs by the door. He suddenly kicks his feet out, drops them next to my legs and hooks onto the armrests of my chair, stopping my swiveling action. He grins at me and tells me that the constant twisting is annoying. His feet are touching my thighs. Bigger than mine, his teenage boy feet are so tempting in those clean white socks. I can see the contours. I soooo want to touch them. Caress them. Peel those socks off them.

He flops on his back and the exposed strip of bare skin below his t-shirt, above his waistband causes an immediate stirring in my crotch. He might be the cutest boy on the face of the earth. Either that or he's just currently the most accessible, being in my bedroom and all. He raises his arms above his head and suddenly I have a full view of his bare stomach all the way up to his rib cage. His belly button couldn't be more perfect. I was right the first time. He is the cutest. The tightening in my crotch intensifies.

He props himself on his elbows making lines crease across his smooth, lean stomach. Somehow, this is even more enticing. My face flushes. I didn't think he caught me gawking at him, but his smile widens. He suggests that I go get us some sodas before the pizza gets here. His feet are still against my thighs and hooked in my armrests. I'm kind of trapped between his legs. I indicate my predicament with my eyes and he tells me he's comfortable and doesn't want to move. He tells me to stand up and step over him.

Forgetting that I'm bulging in my crotch, I stand up. My lab partner notices my "situation" and his eyes widen. His feet release the chair's armrests and he hooks his legs around the back of my knees and pulls me towards him. He looks up and meets my eyes. He drops his feet to the floor, sits up and wraps his arms around my waist. His hands find their way under my shirt and explore my back causing goosebumps to explode on my skin. He pushes up my sweatshirt, gives his prey a long look and plunges his tongue into my navel. I gasp in surprise.

He gives my tummy little kisses all over and I giggle because his nuzzles tickle. I lace my fingers in his hair. He tells me that I've been teasing him all afternoon, making us take our shoes off, telling him he can sit on my bed, twisting around in the chair in front of him. Reaching and stretching in front of him. It was all too much and now he has to do something about it. He unbuttons my shorts, pulls down the zipper and slides them down my hips. My boxer briefs can barely hold my raging erection and my lab partner looks hungrily at my pointer. His hands slide down to my ass and begin to massage as he works his mouth all around my shaft through my underwear. I moan. This is the first sexual experience of my life and it came out of nowhere. It's happening so fast.

Hooks his fingers inside the waistband of my boxer briefs and now those are off too. My erection springs free, almost slapping him in the face. He laughs, but he's not laughing at me. He catches my eye again, smiles again, parts his lips and swallows me whole. I know I'm not huge, but I'm not particularly small either. He takes in all of me. His nose is buried in my pubic hair. He continues to massage my butt as he aggressively sucks me off. My fingers tighten their grip in his hair and my mouth drops open as I throw my head back and call out his name. His mouth is delivering sensations that I had no idea mouths were capable of delivering. His oral attack is relentless and I'm about to blow my load. I change the tone of my moan to forewarn him of my pending explosion, but he doesn't back off.

I'm getting closer and closer. So close. It's about to happen. It's starting. And then...the bell rings. Not once, but over and over and over. That damn pizza guy is persistent. And a cock blocker. Suddenly my lab partner stops. He pulls away, leaving our latest experiment unfinished.

The bell rings on. And on and on and on. I slowly realize that I am in my bedroom and I do have a raging boner, but I'm all alone. It's not the pizza guy or even the doorbell at all. It's my alarm. It's time to get up and get ready for school. I was having yet another fantasy dream about my secret crush. My secret crush who is straight, has a girlfriend and doesn't even know that I exist.

~~

Like many other eighteen-year-old boys, I'm still figuring out who I'm going to be. Or at least that's the lie I tell people. The truth is, I know who I am...I just don't know how or when to be who I am. I'm a living self-contradiction in terms. A conundrum to my family and friends. Some of it's on display for everyone to see; the musician who prefers old music. The fan of baseball and basketball, but the hater of football and hockey. The runner who is not athletically inclined in any other way. The one who won't eat normal food. The guy who is not obsessed with video games and gives absolutely zero shits about the next great gaming system. I like reading books -- physical books. And not Manga or Graphic Novels or Fantasies either. I have nothing against those genres, they're just not for me.

But those things are all choices. Conscious preferences. There are other things about myself that I didn't get to pick and choose. Things I don't get a say in. Things like my boring, flat mousey brown hair, my green eyes that I wish were blue and my generally overall average looks. Oh, and one more thing. I like other boys.

I'm not in the closet because I'm ashamed of being gay. I'm just me and I'm fine with me. I plan to be "out" in college. I imagine college being completely different from high school. I imagine a diverse population of open-minded students who accept the uniqueness and individuality of each...well...individual. I have an active imagination. More than likely, nobody will give a fuck. And that's fine too. That's completely the opposite of my high school experience where everyone would absolutely give multiple fucks.

Presently, I'm a senior at Chandler Catholic High School. The Chandler community is not particularly progressive; their mission and principles are a bit outdated. Their emphasis is on the message of Christ, service and responsibility to the church. The sad and unacceptable fact of the matter is they don't even have a GSA club. This is not an environment fostering self-exploration, self-expression or singularity. Comply and conform. This is not the place for a gay atheist to thrive out in the open, so here I am...hiding. Fortunately, it's mid-May and I'm quickly approaching graduation. Post high school will be my time. That's when my life will truly begin. I just need to hang on for a few more weeks.

But I've been eighteen for a few months now and I've contemplated the big reveal. When I do come out, it will be on my terms and on my timeline. I am not a go-with-the-flow, free-spirit kind of a guy. I make lists and I set priorities. In my mind I've planned my "coming out" party. First, there will be no party. Second, keep my secret until high school is over. Third, tell my best friends and my brothers over the summer. And fourth, tell my parents the night before I go away to college. Or better yet, the morning of the day that I leave. I want a buffer zone of at least six states between us. So, like my winter coat and boots, I -- Jack Pearson -- remain safely tucked away in the closet. For now.

~~

I've never pretended to not be gay. I've never dated or had a girlfriend as a cover. I don't lie about it either, I just don't talk about it. Most of the kids who know me assume that my strict parents won't allow me to date. I don't correct this false assumption. My parents have actually been eagerly awaiting the day I come home and announce my interest in a girl. My older brother went through a dozen girls in high school. My little brother Josh, who's only in eighth grade, has like three different girlfriends at the same time right now. He's making me look bad. To this point my parents just think I'm shy and awkward, which is not untrue...it's just not my whole truth.

There are about 150 kids in my graduating class making the school's total student population in the vicinity of 600. I don't know all 600 kids personally, but I do know that there's only one openly gay student, Matthew Barnes. He's a junior, one year younger than me, and kind of my hero. I've never interacted with him beyond just a nod, a smile or a "hi" in passing, but I've seen the crap he's had to deal with. The name calling, the taunting, the occasional bumps and shoves...the bullying. It's not safe for someone like Matthew Barnes to openly be who he is, but he's doing it anyway. He really is a hero.

~~

I share a bathroom with my brother and it sucks. Josh is an EF5 tornado in the bathroom. He's like the freaking Tasmanian Devil. I leave everything neat and clean for him but the whole room is a wet, drippy mess when he's finished. Solution: I get up early and go first every day.

We're a cereal house on weekday mornings but I stopped eating grains and sugar last year. I had seen a documentary about the Paleolithic lifestyle and it just clicked with me. It's my new thing. I'm not looking to lose weight -- I just want to be healthy. Of course, this is one more thing for my family and friends to poke fun at. Another way to be different and weird. If they only knew. I grab two hard-boiled eggs and a bottle of water from the fridge.

I join my parents at the table in comfortable silence until Dad asks me, "Jack, isn't prom coming up next week? Have you asked a girl yet?"

Just as the question is asked, Josh comes sliding into the kitchen; big socked feet on the shiny linoleum floor. I have a mouthful of egg, so Josh helpfully jumps in, "A girl asked him to go to prom, but he said no."

My parents both look like they were just told that our church exploded.

Josh, grinning at me now, says, "It was a girl named Sarah. And she's kind of hot too! I can't believe she'd even want to go with him." Josh laughs and fist bumps my shoulder.

My face turns beet red as I choke down my last bit of dry yolk. One of the things I hate most about myself is how emotional I am. I can't help it; it's how I'm wired. I laugh easily, I cry easily and most of all, I embarrass easily. And when I get embarrassed, I blush. There's no hiding my feelings. I wear my heart on my sleeve and my emotions on my face.

Dad looks shellshocked, "Is this true?"

It's true. Two weeks ago, Sarah Grey promposed to me. Life would have been so much easier if I'd just said yes. Date or no date, I have to go because I'm on the student council which also acts as the prom committee. I just thought I'd go alone or as a third wheel with my friends. Was there any logical reason that I would turn Sarah down? No. Here was this cute, sweet girl who had mustered up the courage to ask a guy to prom and the guy -- me -- hurt and embarrassed her. I couldn't tell her that I did the noble thing, that I actually did what was right for both of us. Not without "coming out". But like I said, "coming out" is something I choose on my own timetable and I'm just not ready.

Sarah is friends with Hannah Vaughn. Hannah, like me, is on student council and she is my arch nemesis. She's usually on the opposite side of most any issue from me. She's the elephant to my donkey. When Hannah found out that I rejected Sarah, she told everyone that I must be gay. She even posted it on the school's social media. It was quickly taken down, but not before the damage had been done. People I didn't even know took sides and weighed in. It was a rough couple of days. I'd always been a fly under the radar kind of a guy. I'm not popular and most of the school hardly knew I even existed. Until now. My best defense has always been to deflect and avoid, but that's not easy to do when I'm the center of everyone's attention. Then, something happened that took the focus and the heat off of me. The entire Chandler community was rocked to its core by the earth-shattering news. The most popular couple in the school had broken up. Tyson Courtland and Stacey Harrison.

Tyson is the captain of the boys' basketball team. He's actually a top prospect in the state. Colleges are clamoring for him. He's also the best-looking guy in our school. This is not my opinion, it's an established fact. Everyone knows it and it's not up for debate. He is 6' 4", lean, muscular, blond haired, blue-eyed, strong-jawed, chiseled cheek boned...do I need to say more? When his deep blue eyes meet yours, you almost have to look away. It's dangerous. He's too good looking. Sounds stereotypical, right? Nope. He's also generous and kind. He doesn't take himself too seriously and he makes other people feel important by showing genuine interest in them. Most of my interactions with Tyson happen during student council meetings. Of course, Tyson is the class president, so he's also the head of the council. We have after-school meetings every Wednesday.

Stacey Harrison is the most popular girl in school, and unlike Tyson, she does fit the stereotype. Aside from having all the right friends, she's the captain of the girls' volleyball team and just not a nice person. She and Tyson dated for a whole year, but now, it's apparently over. And so close to prom too. Stacey was immediately asked by several other boys and she has already said yes. She is going to prom with Kevin Johnson, one of Tyson's basketball teammates.

Tyson has not asked anybody else yet. The school is abuzz with anticipation. The hottest, most popular guy in school has to have a date for prom, right? He's obligated to go. Will he go alone? No way. But two weeks have gone by and he's asked no one. Prom is right around the corner.

I so don't need Josh stirring the shit right now. I want to punch him in the arm. All six of their eyeballs fix on me, waiting for my response. I pick up my plate, now covered with the carcasses of peeled eggshells, and head to the sink. I say, "Yes, I was asked by a girl to go with her to prom and I politely declined."

Dad asks, "Why? You don't like her? Are you waiting for somebody better?"

Yeah, Dad, I'm waiting for somebody with a penis. I say, "I don't know, Dad. I just said no. She's nice, but I'm just not into her, okay?"

Mom intercedes, "Jack, sweetie, your dad and I just don't want you to miss out on life's important moments. Your senior prom is a big deal."

Ugh. Thanks Josh. I'm very different from both of my brothers and a bit of a puzzle to my parents. A puzzle they haven't yet solved.

I say, "I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine. Danny will be waiting." I bolt out of the kitchen.

~~

The bus sucks. It is to be avoided at all costs. Danny and his car rescue me every morning and most afternoons. Until a year ago, I always rode shotgun and Layne was in the backseat. Then they started dating. Girlfriend trumps best friend.

Danny is the star of the spring play. The performances are finally this weekend so his rehearsal schedule has been insane lately. He's a phenomenal actor. Almost, Maine is a play of nine short stories; love stories. One of the nine stories is that of a same-sex-couple. Danny has nine parts including Randy, one of the gay characters. A faction of students and parents started a petition in an effort to cancel the play because of its "sexual overtones that are not consistent with the school's mission and educational objectives". Surprisingly, they failed.

We pick up Layne and she says, "Good morning, Daniel." Only she is allowed to call him Daniel. If I tried it, I'd find myself riding the bus tomorrow. She glances at me, gives me a wink and says, "Jackson, good morning." Full first names are a thing of hers, especially if she cares about the person.

As Danny drives, Layne angles herself toward me and says, "You have student council today, right?"

I nod.

She says, "You and your council member-type people better get on fixing the shitshow that is this year's prom. We're seniors! It's supposed to be one of life's biggest events."

Prom attendance had been on the decline for years before our time at Chandler but ticket sales so far for this year are pointing towards the lowest turnout ever.

"I'm on it."

She looks unconvinced, "Show some backbone Jackson. And stand up to Hannah Vaughn. I hate that bitch!"

We get to the school parking lot and, as usual, there's a crowd around Tyson Courtland's car. He drives a new, red Lincoln Navigator. Of course the tallest, most popular guy drives the biggest, shiniest car. Everyone still wants to know: who will Tyson ask to prom? We're only days away and time's running out.

~~

My first class of the day is Introduction to Drama. Tyson Courtland and Connor Mills are in this class with me. We sit in a semicircle on the stage floor. I'm usually on the opposite side of the circle from Tyson and Connor. This doesn't bother me though. It gives me a nice view of my secret crush -- Connor.

Connor Mills is Tyson Courtland's best friend, and the object of my fantasies. He and Tyson are both on the basketball team and in student council. Connor is seriously cute. He's 6' tall, has dark blond hair, hazel eyes and a warm smile. I find myself staring at Connor whenever I'm near him. Crushing on Tyson is something that never even occurred to me. Tyson just seems too perfect; almost unreal. Unlike Ken-Doll Tyson with his devastatingly good looks, Connor is more...accessible. Especially when he's in my bedroom, ripping off my shorts and swallowing my erection while squeezing my ass cheeks in his strong hands. I need to stop. Beads of sweat appear on my forehead, my face flushes and I'm well on my way to pitching a tent.

Don't get me wrong, Connor is of course straight as an arrow. He's dating Natalee Corrigan and has been all year. They're going to prom together and my fantasy of being asked to prom by the boy of my dreams is just that, a fantasy.

It's still a few minutes before the starting bell and something happens that has never happened before. Tyson stands up, walks over to me, nudges my book bag over with his enormous school-appropriate shoe and sits. I suppose his supersized feet are in proper proportion to his 6'4" frame. Anyway, this is unprecedented and I sit here frozen and silent. What's happening and why? He folds his legs and our knees are touching. My body goes rigid. Tyson says to me, "Pearson, we have to figure this prom thing out today. Nobody seems to give a shit about it this year. Personally, neither do I. But the student council is responsible." He leans in closer and his shoulder bumps mine. Even through the four layers of our blazers and oxford shirts, his body heat makes my skin sizzle. "We haven't even sold enough tickets to cover the cost of the venue."

His blue eyes stare right into my green eyes and I find I can't hold his gaze so now I'm looking at my own feet. My normal, regular sized feet. This is the first time in our four years at Chandler that Tyson Courtland has talked to me one-on-one -- outside of a class or student council. I glance across the circle at Connor, but he's involved in conversation with Natalee and not paying any attention to us. If it wasn't for student council, I don't think Tyson Courtland would even know my name. He puts his arm around my shoulders and I imagine this is what it feels like to be electrocuted.