Lockers and Boxers (boyxboy)

Chapter XII - Faux Hawk

It's odd how easy it is to talk to Faux Hawk (I should probably learn his name), but I can't shake the sensation of guilt in my stomach. I'm not doing anything wrong, or at least I don't think I am, yet I feel like a traitor of some sort.

"Well," I say, trying to prevent the inevitable mental spiral that will arise from continuing the conversation, "I've gotta get going. See you around, uh, what's your name?"

"What's yours?" He replies. I tilt my head and smile at him. I guess there is something exciting about anonymity. "See you around, dude."

...

I inhale deeply, holding my breath, before opening the door to my house. I expect to see my mother waiting impatiently for my return, but... nothing. Aside from the hum of the air conditioner, it's completely silent. I tiptoe to my bedroom, not looking to end the unusual peacefulness.

I fall back on my bed, feeling weighed down by some outside force. It's odd; I've started to come out of my shell per se, but I'm still lonely. Maybe I've been without companionship for so long that my brain no longer remembers how to feel "normal," whatever that may be.

I'd call Gabe, but he has his basketball game, and I doubt he'd be thrilled if Marcus saw me calling him. And I haven't even wrapped my mind around that whole situation. Is this some kind of fucked up love triangle? What if Gabe decides that he doesn't want me? He already knows Marcus, while I'm just some guy from PE.

I hate to even think about it, but why would Gabe ever want me when he could be with someone who's more, you know, attractive. He told me I'm hot, which is comforting to hear, but I wonder if it's just a formality. Like, you wouldn't kiss someone and then say, "You're so ugly," or at least I hope not.

I wish I had someone to talk to. It must be nice to have as many friends as Gabe. Ever since my junior year, I've been without friends, aside from those semester-long seating chart friendships that go nowhere. It's terrifying to put myself out into the social battlefield of high school, so I've avoided it for a long time.

I can tell I'm falling into a self-pitying spiral, so I reach for the melatonin gummies on my nightstand and pop two in my mouth. Sometimes, you just need to sleep sadness off. It's probably not the best way to deal with pain, but I don't really care. Whatever stops the thinking.

...

I am awoken by the buzzing of my phone. Confused, I reach through my tangled bedsheets to find it. The brightness of the screen blinds me when I finally retrieve it. A FaceTime call - from Gabe! He didn't forget our "first date."

I swing my arm out to hit the switch for my lamp, knocking over my melatonin gummies all over the floor (fuck my life). I try to tame my bedhead with my fingers, but my hair refuses to cooperate. I'm sure I look like shit, but I answer the call, not wanting Gabe to think I'm ignoring him.

Gabe's face pops up on my phone. His face is reddened, and his hair is sweaty and messy like mine, although he pulls it off much better.

"Jake!" He exclaims with a big smile. "I missed you." I smile back at him. I don't know when anyone told me they missed me.

"I missed you too," I tell him. "How was your game?"

"Pretty good," he tells me as he walks to his bedroom. Gabe falls back onto his bed, holding his phone above his face, giving me a view as if I'm on top of him. "We won, but I missed a free throw, which was super embarrassing. I think I made up for it by making a three-pointer, though."

"Oh wow, good job!" I say, not exactly sure what he is saying, but happy for him nonetheless. I'm having more fun envisioning him, sweaty, running and dribbling. I think I'm just a sucker for jocks.

"You don't know what any of that means, do you?" He teases.

"I do!" I insist. "You, you know, three-pointed by throwing the ball far."

"Well, yeah," he laughs. "And sorry I'm not dressed up for our date. I swear I'll shower before the next one."

"I don't mind," I assure him, which is completely true. I think of the red boxer briefs. That was a weird choice of mine. "I'm not looking my best either."

"I'd beg to differ. You look hot as fuck to me."

"Please," I laugh, "I look terrible. I just woke up from a nap."

"Damn, wish I could've been there. I could get over your twin-sized bed if it meant laying with you. You know, you should come over to my house for a sleepover."

"Really? Your parents would be ok with that?"

"Yeah, as long as you're not too loud a moaner." I open my mouth, caught off guard by Gabe's forwardness. "Shit, sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No, no, no, you're not, but thank you for asking. I... think I like it?"

"Oh, cool, but if I'm ever going too fast, just let me know. I want you to feel comfortable. Comfortable and turned on, if possible."

"That's how I'm feeling right now, so mission accomplished!" It's odd, being flirted with so directly. I don't think anyone's ever really flirted with me.

"Perfect. Well, I'm going to go rinse off because I feel super gross right now." Gabe stands up, leaving his phone on the bed. He lifts his shirt over his head, exposing his toned chest and abs. Fuck.

"Oh, ok. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess," I say, somewhat disappointed. Gabe looks down at the camera, eyebrows furrowed.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to. I'd hate for our first date to be so short."

"What, you're going to take your phone in the shower?" I ask, hoping the answer is a yes.

"Only if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all."

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