Knock On Wood (BoyxBoy)

chapter three. kevin.

Warning: there's a very minor nsfw beginning.

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My partner moans breathlessly. "Kevin..."

I mutter a slur some type of response, but I'm too focused on whomever I'm on top of to remember it.

My lips are locked with someone else's--someone who tastes like strawberries; with lips softer than any other woman I've ever been with.

The person moves their head onto my shoulder, biting into it softly. I lightly suck on their neck, putting a dark red mark on their pretty pale skin.

My partner moans again and holds me tightly for a second, then falls limply onto the bed, breathing heavily.

"Done already?" I tease, lifting my head enough to look into my partner's eyes.

Such beautiful eyes, I think to myself. Beautiful blue eyes.

I lift my head a little higher--just enough to see my lovers face, and...

"Double D?!" I shout, shooting up from my pillow.

My breathing is fast, and I feel like I'm sweating buckets.

I sigh, then lift my blanket, revealing the opposite of what I want at 5 o'clock in the morning.

"That did not just happen," I tell myself. "I did not just have a wet dream about Double D."

I repeat this several times, though, it never seems to calm my mind.

"Holy shit," I think. "It was a mistake. You did not just see a dude, let alone Double-freakin' D."

I storm into the bathroom across the hall, flustered and anxious, and turn on the shower.  I take off my clothes and look in the mirror briefly.

"You aren't gay," I say to the man in the mirror. "You don't like guys. And you sure as hell don't like Double D."

I run a hand through my sweaty ginger hair and shower in cold water.

•×•

"You know what sucks?" Nat asks me.

I ignore him.

"Hey, Kev, y'know what sucks?"

I sigh and look at him. "What?"

"Riding the bus."

"You deserved this," I say, rolling my eyes. "It's payback for partying all night with college jerks."

"Partying isn't a crime," he protests.

"It is when you're seventeen and drinking."

"Listen, nobody has to know about that," Nat says quietly, but smiling.

"Then don't complain."

"Boy, what crawled up your butt and died?"

"Nothing," I lie. "Just had a... weird morning."

"Like waking-up-with-a-girl-in-your-bed-and-a-hangover weird or Mccaulay Culkin weird?"

I roll my eyes and punch his shoulder. "Stop talking before I punch you in the throat."

He laughs and punches my shoulder just before the bus makes it to the school.

The walk inside the school is just how it always is: loud and annoying with a side of everyone pushing against everyone else. I walk down the hallway with Nat and Nazz on either side of me, which usually assures that people will let us through. Maybe it's because of our "popularity bubble" as most populars call it. The "lower class" know their place, and that is, apparently outside of our popularity bubble and in their own loser bubble.

Soon enough, we all split into our own first periods (this year, it seems as though the principal --Mr. Dix--has split up the obvious groups of friends to keep the students concentration on the class; not their friends).

I sigh and mutter, "Chemistry," under my breath.

"It's nice to see you, too, Mr. Barr," Mrs. Kiyabu says.

Mrs. Kiyabu, my chemistry teacher, is a young Japanese woman who was hired this year because Mr. Pearson moved to Ireland to meet his boyfriend and live with him. (I'm personally pretty glad he left because students always called him vulgar names behind his back.)

"Sorry, Mrs. Kiyabu," I say, smiling nervously and rubbing the back of my neck.

"Well," She smiles. "Just take your seat."

I nod and take a seat next to a teammate of mine--Jared--and the class begins. I listen to the beginning of her lecture on lipids and all that "fun" stuff, but eventually fall into my own world. When I fall into this little world of mine, I begin thinking about things that I usually wouldn't want to during the day; one being this morning.

I don't understand why I had that dream. That dork is nothing but another one of the Ed Trio--The Dumb (Ed), The Dickwad (Eddy), and The Dweeb (Edd/Double D)--, therefore, a total loser. Why the hell would I have such an... Intimate dream about him? I mean, I guess when you think about it, his stature is kind of thin and lady like... And his skin is a perfect pale. His eyes are a beautiful blue, clearer than the Caribbean Sea. He's not made of muscle like guys our age usually are, but he isn't just skin and bones, either.

"Dammit," I mumble, feeling my cheeks becoming warm. "This isn't good."

"What?" Jared asks.

"U-uh, nothing...," I look up at the teacher and try to listen.

"Does anyone remember the parts of a lipid?" Mrs. Kiyabu asks the class. A few hands go up, but she looks at me. "Any ideas, Kevin?"

"'Fraid not, Mrs. K," I shrug.

"Should we phone a friend?" She teases.

We aren't in sixth grade, is what I'm thinking.

"I guess," I say.

"Okay!" she sings. "Hmmm... Ah, Edd! Would you mind telling your friend, Kevin, the parts that make up a lipid?"

"Absolutely!" He exclaims. "A lipid is made up of a hydrophilic, or water soluble, part, and a hydrophobic, or water-insoluble, part."

He pauses then says, "To restate it bluntly, a head that likes water, moving against a tail that hates it."

"Magnificent!" Mrs. K exclaims. "Nothing less than what I'd expect from you, Edd!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Kiyabu," he says, smiling like always.

"What a teacher's pet," Jared mutters.

I snicker and whisper, "You're just jealous that the teacher actually likes him."

"Shut up, Kevin," he laughs.

The bell rang loudly throughout the school, sending the kids in every classroom flooding into the hallways and to their next period. Everyone leaves our room, leaving me alone with Mrs. Kiyabu.

"Ahem," She coughs. "Kevin, may I have a word with you, please?"

I breathe in slowly and nod my head. "Sure."