The Real Scömìche

Scott

I climbed out of the shower, still locked in my thought process. It was the same dream as always. It was the dream of a relationship with my raven haired roommate. I was thinking of the Superfruit video we filmed earlier, where I had caught Mitch looking at me with something I would have described as affection. But only as a friend, I guess. We'll always just be best friends, but a guy can dream. And mine is a very intense dream of love between myself and my band mate.

I was singing my favourite song whilst I dried my body, which I hated. I had no self confidence unless I was on stage with Pentatonix. All I wanted was for Mitch to say I looked good, that I looked sexy, handsome, gorgeous. But the thing about dreams is that, they are dreams; they aren't real. Sadly for me.

I crept into my bedroom next door, trying not to wake my crush, sure that he was sleeping. Undressing, I pictured Mitch's lean body asleep, unaware of my real feelings. He would never know how much it pained me to hear the story of his trip to Miami, visiting a string of dates, who'd all realised what a catch he is. How I hated that he dated other people. How I hated that I had to go on dates and purposely ruin them because I couldn't let myself fall for anyone else before I had tasted romance with Mitch.

I lay awake, a regular occasion for me, my mind plagued by the image of the black haired beauty that was my crush, frowning. I suddenly heard a quiet moan from the next door room, where I had supposed Mitch was fast asleep. And there it was again, a small moan of pleasure. Mitch was getting off and I was uncomfortable but, truth be told, slightly turned on.

I was guilty of listening to Mitch's private moment but I found it unbelievably sexy and hot and that I couldn't stop. I didn't want to listen but I needed to at the same time. Mitch's verbal pleasure was increasingly faster, still quiet but faster, more urgent. As I continued to listen, I concentrated more, clutching my sheets, I thought I heard a name. My name.

I must have imagined it, there's no way Mitch is getting off whilst thinking of me. No way. Absolutely no way. I MUST have imagined it. I concentrated more on Mitch's moans. And there it was again, my name.

"Scott...." Mitch's beautiful voice whispered my name.

Was it possible, at all, that Mitch felt the same way as I did? Did he lust for me in the same way as I urgently needed him?