Three Boys, One Crush Pt. 01

That's what I was afraid of- how they made me feel.

"Yes," M answered huskily, leaning in, taking my hand. "Me and the guys essentially are in a relationship. It's a friendship-slash-brotherhood, but it's important to all three of us. My fondest wish is to be with my bros and our true love. Our princess, the one who binds us together forever. You're the only one who has ever caught all of our attention."

What M wanted sounded wonderful. Amazing even. Just, he didn't know. They didn't know.

"You shouldn't want me," I whispered. "I'm not good enough for any of you." Absently I played with my books. "I'll just destroy your reputation and you'll get sick of everybody harping on you for being seen with me. You guys already threw yourselves on enough of a grenade coming out as a triple threat this morning. I'm sure there's a ton of girls who will try it just to be with you."

"I don't want them," he retorted, firmly. "They won't be the perfect combination of sweet, sexy, smart, strong, and savage that you are, and if you weren't all those things Cal, Randy, and I wouldn't even have exposed ourselves. Hell, we didn't expect to meet anyone until college."

I had to bite my tongue. Savage...? What had these three guys heard about me, exactly...? To think, they might have an inkling of the truth.

The bell went off and Ceramics II officially had to come to order. Syllabi were passed out and I took mine to have something to look at other than M's gorgeous face.

***

M

My princess was scared. It wasn't difficult to tell.

I had a lot to ask her, including how many people she tried to get close to, only to have them turn around and shove her away. How could someone described as "kind" and "sweet" also have the thickest wall of ice around themselves like this? From the way she spoke, always framing our back-and-forth to cast fault on herself, I had to wonder if the wall was there to keep others out, or to keep her in. I still intended to attend the improv club with my bros to see how she was in her own element. In a place she was comfortable, with people she liked, how did Jane act? There was so much hiding in her, like the fire I saw burning behind her glasses.

Princess was holding secrets, and if nothing else told me how receptive she might be, it was Cal's post-gym confession. He actually ran me down after class just to tell me what had happened. Was fairly vexed about it, too.

"She felt my cock, M, she felt my cock!"

He was both mindblown and excited. I couldn't help chuckling. My boy had finally popped his first ever awkward public boner; girl just went and pressed her ass directly into his groin. I was so proud, like a best friend should be when their bro suddenly and very inelegantly became a man.

Who knew the class I'd wind up having in common with Jane would be the very last class of the day, and art? Worked out well for me, as this one was going to be all about working with the hands and we'd probably be able to talk. The teacher, a tall and artistic gentleman with spectacles and a shaved head called Mr. Schwartz, briefly went over the syllabus but then simply had us get right to it. Our first project was going to be sculpted, and later in the semester we'd be testing ourselves on the pottery wheels.

What better way to refresh the skills than by taking a big hunk of clay and wedging it? It gave me something to do with my hands so I wasn't tempted to reach for Jane's and hold it tight for the remainder of the afternoon. Up until I escorted her to the library (on my arm) for our rendezvous.

My pretty little love interest began slapping and thudding her clay against the tabletop, seemingly crushing the air bubbles out of it like she sought to destroy her negative feelings. The class went for it, a satisfying smacking and pounding rhythm filling the room along with calm chatter. No one was staring here either. It figured the art crowd wouldn't give too much of a crap about popular drama.

"So Janey, what book did you pick up this morning?" She shot me a sharp look, but it was more annoyed than scared, and for some reason that felt like progress.

"Collected Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe," she did ultimately reply, meekly.

"Seeing a pattern here," I teased.

"I like... Gothics," she returned, taking my cheek in stride. With one hand on the clay, the other strayed to her books, as she had them close by. Not close enough to be in the way, but within touching distance. "There's a richness of language and character, depths of emotion, and the shadows of the human soul bared upon the page. These writers seethe with ghosts, in turn haunting the minds of readers hundreds of years later. That's the only true immortality..."

It was the least guarded thing she'd said to me so far (yet another side of her mind) and I listened raptly. She blushed when she realized how close I was watching.

The books weren't just entertainments. They were companions, friends- possibly even her guardians against the world. It was telling that she made an excuse about returning her library book this morning only to come back with another.

"That's beautiful, Jane," I told her seriously. "I guess I've never thought about it quite like that before, but every time I read a book even fifty years old, I could be reading the thoughts of someone whose name will live for centuries." I saw a distinct flash of something light her face. A threshold being crossed, or perhaps a door, opened. "I think I misunderstood Shakespeare's sonnet eighteen- I thought preserving her beauty in the poetry would ensure that it was never forgotten, but who even is the woman the speaker refers to? We only know who wrote those words, and that name is synonymous with an unparalleled contribution to the language and some of the greatest penned works of all time."

"Scholars of the Bard believed that his sonnets were chiefly written for three subjects. Comprising the biggest chunk of his sonnets were those addressed to an anonymous young man- the 'Fair Youth'," she almost-whispered. "Eighteen is one of them."

I gasped. Then it was my turn to blush. Is that why the lines always reminded me of...?

"Were you in Shakespeare last semester?" I asked quietly. "I couldn't talk the guys into it."

"I was," she answered, nodding. "To be fair, Shakespeare's plays aren't meant to be read. They're meant to be seen."

"Damn it I'm gonna smack those two!" I laughed, covering my mouth with one hand. Our clay was paused for a moment as we took in the missed connection, but we kept working after a beat. Jane was beginning to shape her lump now, but I couldn't tell yet what it was going to be. "That reminds me, though. Who were you in Romeo and Juliet last term?" To my surprise she huffed a bit.

"Oh, I was Lady Capulet, if you saw it."

"I wanted to see it but I missed it. I read the review in the school paper, though. Didn't it say something about you being 'dynamic' in the role?"

"Yeah," Jane muttered. "I don't honestly get why that reviewer wrote that. My costume didn't even fit me." I'd cracked something in her, because the timid doe from this morning was gone. "It all felt so slapped together. There wasn't a set- just staging blocks arranged to mimic one- the teacher cast her favorites as the leads despite Romeo not being able to play it convincingly straight, and she cut the play. She butchered it. I barely had three scenes, and I had maybe ten or fifteen lines. Juliet held the damn thing together, but it was not the production I was hoping for. I wouldn't have even chosen that play- but it's my senior year, and it was Shakespeare. I freely admit for what time I had onstage, I was not that good." She shrugged, now forming what might be a base for something with her wedged clay.

"I'm a little surprised," I said, genuinely taken aback. "I don't think any girl I've ever been interested in has been so straightforwardly honest with me before." She didn't seem to hold anything back.

I saw Jane wince a bit. "Hence why I keep my mouth shut," she bluntly replied, moving it along. "I'm painfully aware of what I have to say, so I keep it to myself." Her hands stilled seconds after her words died. "You do, however, seem to actually like books, so that gets you further than most." Well of course I brightened up at that- I had the 'in'. At the same time...

"Jane, may I ask you a question?" I leaned forward, fiddling with my clay, unsure of what I might make with it. My princess was still forming what looked to me like a pedestal, and nearly done with it too. She tensed slightly at my words.

"Sure," the girl offered quietly back.

"Do you consider yourself 'goth'?" Oh those nebulous teenage labels. She certainly didn't look 'goth'. "You're one of those keenly sharp social rebels like Jane Eyre or Elizabeth Bennet. And the way you spoke about gothic literature... you sounded like you felt haunted, too. Those authors must really speak to you."

There went her walls again, suddenly rising and snapping into place. Her fingers accidentally squished the shape she'd been forming in clay. Wow, Jane looked terrified. But...

"I've never thought about it," she answered in a small voice I could tell she was trying to keep calm. "I don't fit that style archetype, no. I've just been calling my look 'Renaissance punk'."

I waited... That was it. No answer to my observation except for the involuntary shielding.

"Why define yourself by just one label?" I asked, trying to keep things light. "Punk vibe I get, definitely. Why the "Renaissance"? Like, Botticelli? Da Vinci?"

"Renaissance Festival," she corrected, and I tilted my head in curiosity. "I go every year. Think flowing peasant skirts and blouses, bodices, flower hair wreaths- stuff like that," she told me, coming back into herself. "I love color, I love flowers and flowing styles. So a bit hippie with a rock edge plus a sense of rebellion."

"Then 'princess' suits you perfectly!" I grinned, teasing. "You know, Randy thought you looked like a Jedi Knight."

"That's fair," she copped without hesitation, "And I do love Star Wars." Reforming the material in her hands to its former shape, Jane smoothed and fussed it back the way she wanted it. "And it has one of the greatest princesses of all time." She then paused, looking up at me. "Why do you call me 'princess'? It's obviously not because of any of that."

"Oh, I have quite a thing for Disney movies," I confessed slyly. "You'd definitely be my Belle." Jane blushed, and it was so amazingly cute.

"That explains a lot," was her answer and she nodded. "You're such a Prince Charming."

"Thanks love, it's sincerely appreciated."

"Won't having me on your arm tank your reputation?" She then hit me with, echoing what she'd said before that I hadn't directly responded to. Yet.

"Darling, I couldn't give less of a crap." I wasn't joking, either. "I have social status because I'm pretty and because I've got money. Everyone knows that, but it's shallow when you lay it out on the table, isn't it? With my two best friends already by my side, there's only one person in the world I care about, and that's you now, princess... Whether or not you're ready to say 'yes'. If I lose face or somehow tumble down the ravine of unpopularity I still have the people I love most in the world, and hopefully, a date with you."

"You can't be serious," my girl objected. "You'd willingly sacrifice your golden ticket just for you and your bros to be with me? I've got nothing to offer you!" Clearly exasperated, she just couldn't grasp her value.

"I am serious, and you alone have blessed me with the opportunity to make my wildest dreams come true. No one's ever gotten all three of us' attention before, and the girls any of us did date were clearly uninterested in the full set."

"How do you know the same isn't true for me?" It was a solemn question, one that I think it was fair for her to ask.

"For one, I saw Cal after your gym class." Her face went red again. Something came to me as I saw the guilty look on her face. My smirk was cocky. My fingers moved, rolling the clay into a bulbous, asymmetrical shape, almost on instinct. "For another... you and Randy have a lot in common, and you knocked him out this morning."

"He was in my cooking class," she whispered, and I looked up in sharp delight. "We um. Do have a lot in common." Something got caught in her words, forcing her to swallow mid-sentence, and I saw her arm instinctively fly up to block her chest. She sat slumping forward, curling into herself.

If I knew Randy, and I did, he'd taken some liberties. However, therein lay my proof. Jane was aroused. Pausing work with my clay, I leaned my chin on my hand, elbow opening my chest to her.

"And you blushed for me too, Jane."

"Anyone would," she bit back, but not angrily. "You're dazzlingly beautiful, M."

"I know it, baby," I slowly smiled, "but you went deeper than that right away. My beauty isn't why you answered me this morning, even though you were clearly freaked out. It's because you aren't rude, if nothing else. In fact, you've been so patient with our really pretty egotistical advances today, and you really had no reason to be."

"I appreciate both you and Randy bringing that up and recognizing how much each of you has... imposed on me today," Jane answered. "To be honest, it's been very overwhelming. I just want to get everything I have to say out to all three of you after school today, but it's actually been a good thing I got a chance to speak with each of you one-on-one. Far less intimidating that suddenly finding out a trio of boys is after me."

"Understandable," I chortled.

"But, no... I don't want to be rude. I just don't..." she sighed. "I don't want to let anyone in. I don't trust people anymore, because of how many times I've tried to make friends or had a crush and wound up getting my heart broken. It's genuinely not you guys."

I heard something in there that gave me the sense she was going to turn us down, and it sent a chill up my spine. Couldn't jump to conclusions, though, and honestly I should be prepared. Jane might be letting me in a bit, but our situation was clearly overwhelming her.

Before I could respond to that, she took a hard breath and went on.

"I also really should say that the three of you shouldn't touch me without asking," and that was fair... but her phrasing gave me much to think about. "Randy said I was like Cal in that way. Touching isn't... casual for me."

"Ah," I gasped, and nodded hard. "Oh sweetie, of course. We can respect that moving forward." Inside, this made me so giddy. For Cal to grab and hold her, and her to arch into his touch, it sounded like they were an absolute match.

"I don't dislike you guys," she told me then, taking bits of clay and forming shapes in small sizes. "I just need you to understand that I've been comfortably invisible, and I can't handle becoming the laughingstock of the entire school again."

"That's highly understandable," I agreed, "but you aren't, and you won't. I only hope you'll take a chance Jane."

"We'll talk more thoroughly after school," she finally sighed. "There's a lot going on in my head and I'd prefer to discuss this further in private."

"Do you know what I'm thinking about right now?" I asked to both shamelessly flirt with her, and to change the subject in accordance with her wishes.

"No," she shrugged.

"Seeing you with flowers in your hair, my innocent little princess."

***

Jane

My God was this guy a silver-tongued charmer. I had to shake my head.

"You'll get your wish eventually," I finally replied dryly. My body was running hot, and I just couldn't take this anymore. I was about to spontaneously combust as each one of these boys just kept getting fucking hotter and more tempting, making me second-guess my desperate survival instinct. As M and I both sat manipulating our clay (I was making a statuette that for some reason was going to be a vaguely nude decapitated female figure covered in wounds, maybe I really was goth), I began reweighing my options. Could I hold the relationship long enough to graduate and delay heartbreak until post-high school?

At least then, when I was destroyed, nobody would be around to see it.

I really couldn't consider this.

We chatted lightly as we simply worked on the material in front of us, and every minute on the clock was another minute toward letting them down. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to say no, either, the way I hadn't told any of them not to touch me. Truthfully I liked it too much when they touched me, each in ways that told me exactly what they were feeling.

Ironically, what they offered, I wanted... but I wasn't able to accept. I think I knew exactly what I was going to tell them. It just wasn't the right time for me, really- and I would not know what the hell to do with three boyfriends.

Our conversation didn't get too heavy again, rather staying on books and subjects we liked as both of us sculpted. M was building what looked like a tall, slender-necked vase, which he barely hollowed at all. Not a vase, maybe, but a base for a larger piece. He raised his hand at one point to ask our teacher if there was any wire he could use as a structure through the kiln, and they took some time figuring out what was on hand. Gave me a few minutes to myself, which was desperately needed as I was most definitely On. Edge.

Okay. M swept in with his incredibly romantic self, a handsome prince only missing a white steed. Wait 'til he found out where I lived (not that I should be thinking of him at my goddamn house). His touch was a sweet sharp spark that suddenly flared into my not-so-light thoughts. Cal, in turn, grabbed me possessively, sending flames across my entire body and awakening the slumbering inferno I hid from the world. And Randy's bold hand on my thigh had made me want to spread my legs under that desk and let him creep up my skirt, just so I knew for the first time what it was like to have my pussy touched by someone else's fingers.

Oh this was bad. I was in the verge of nuclear meltdown and didn't know how I was going to peel myself away. I'd held it off and held it off, waiting for the one that felt right...

I nearly had a nervous breakdown when M's attention turned back to me, because I already knew the truth. Calvin had given me a taste of what I wanted so desperately right there in the gym. It was fucking lucky I managed to clap my hand over my mouth, because I was that close to unleashing the world's most primal scream in front of the entire class.

Time had slowed from the second I heard him coming, those powerful footfalls and the hush of the crowd catching my ear while the man came down to consume me whole. I knew before I felt the first brush of his fingertips that I would not escape, and predicted the embarrassing shriek that was going to hit my vocal chords.

I wished he'd bitten my throat. He would've owned me right then and there.

Probably a good thing he hadn't, but since that profoundly erotic moment in the gymnasium I'd been reminded that he wasn't alone. It was confusing as hell, because his two friends had their own dishes at this potluck, and M had even approached me first! My head was swimming. So were my panties again, and at this point they were too sodden to even wear. I was disgustingly uncomfortable, and now desperately thirsty on top of it as every drop of liquid in my body seemed to have escaped my pussy over the last couple hours.