Lessons On Kissing Guys (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 2

Up. Down. Throw. Catch. Flick the wrist. Circle Palm. And finally, stare in to space and think about absolutely nothing.

Yes, I have such an eventful life. No need to remind me.

"Oi! Douchedick, get yo' ass down 'ere!" Sighing, I put the basketball aside and hoist myself up off the bed, to make the trip out of my room and down the stairs.

In the living room, my parents are sitting beside my older brother, Patrick.

"Yes, Patricia, Mother, Father? How may I be of use today?" Patrick snarls at me. So now he's allowed to call me douchedick, but Patricia is unacceptable? I personally don't see how that's fair. But who said life's supposed to be fair anyway?

"Watch your tongue, Alfred."

"Yeah, Alfie boy." I huff as Patricia - I mean, Patrick - smirks. Who in their right minds, would call a sex-God like me, Alfred? Oh yeah, my beloved parents. I wonder how they never see the trauma they could've caused me. Until I legally changed my name that is.

"It's Lucas." Sue me, I think Lucas is fucking sexy.

"Alfred! Shut it." My own fathers voice is practically a snarl, like I give two shits. "Might as well not beat around the bush. We've decided you need to move out. And we're giving you a month."

I'll admit, it shocks me. But not nearly as much as it should. Because I've always known my parents didn't love me enough to keep me in their house even nearly as long as their darling Patrici- Patrick. But still, one month? One month to find a house, heck, find a freaking job that'll let me pay for that house, pack and move all my crap into that house. Or maybe I could just leave the crap and let it clog up their shit so-called home.

"Kay, bye."

I don't grace them with anything more before standing up and leaving the house, glad that I have my keys and a phone on me, hidden in my jean pockets.

"Young man, where do you think you are going?" My mother's prim and proper tone doesn't stop me.

I just shout back; "To search for a house! What the fuck does it look like."

I think I vaguely hear the word 'language' being called out from the direction of my house, but it only causes a chuckle to escape my lips, before I start my search.

There's just one minor problem:

I don't know where the fuck to begin.

~*~*~

"So, what are you looking for in a house?"

I'm at the estate agents, trying to get my head around the idea of having to actually pay for some shit-hole I'll probably only be living in for a couple of years before moving the Hell out of this town.

"Something cheap."

Yep, I love giving people something decent to work with.

When the lady gives me a confused look and just stares at me for a moment, I give up. Walking out of the estate agent, I huff out a sigh of distress, wishing money could grow on trees and I could turn into a rich, naturally fit, awesome person. So basically, I'd love to be a sex-God, living in a mansion, for free. But then again, who wouldn't?

"Sorry." I look up and see a guy a little taller than me, looking down and smirking. Although I'm not sure exactly why he's smirking, since I've never seen him before.

"Lucas, am I right?"

I stumble backwards slightly in shock - I usually wouldn't let my emotions show like this, but the fact that he knows my name without ever meeting him is a little creepy. Or very.

Regaining my composure, I let my brain flitter across the possibilites. Maybe I just met him at a party and told him my name. But I swear I'd remember. I don't have that bad a memory; the face should at least seem familiar, if only slightly.

"Yeah, mate. How do you...?" I trail off, not really sure what to say to the guy.

"The party? A couple nights ago? You fell asleep, tried to make a move, woke up and legged it."

The memory comes back to me in an instant. Oh shit. This was that guy? I barely even saw his face that morning, I just got up and legged it.

Just like I am doing now.