Straight Boys

Straightforward

Zachary's POV

"So, Zachary, how was football practice today?" I glanced up from the food I was shoveling into my mouth, to Mr. Haynes. He was sipping his glass of red wine, his green eyes that his daughter had blankly staring into mine.

I cleared my throat, absentmindedly bringing my fingers up to scratch at my throat. "Well, uh, fine... sir." To be perfectly honest, Taylor's parents hated me. They were the only people alive that hated me, well maybe except Andrew, but all the same. They hated everything I stood for, and it was kind of intimidating.

They hated the fact that I was dating their precious daughter.

They hated the sports I played.

They hated the fact that my dad was richer than them.

They just hated me in general.

Although, it didn't really matter to me. All that mattered to me was that their daughter, my girlfriend, was happy. She was happy with me, so who cared what they thought. The love that Taylor showed me was enough.

Mrs. Haynes, from beneath her blonde lashes, sent a chilling gaze my way. She never talked much, but when she did, it was something always along the lines of insulting or tedious. "I don't understand why you play that horrid sport. It'll mush your brains up until nothing's left but soup!" I had to restrain myself was grimacing at her. If I so much as looked at them funny, they'd demand I leave their house.

The best part, Taylor wouldn't stop me. But I never expected her too. Who could go against their own parents? Certainly not me!

"Well, I play it because I like it." By now, I was angrily cutting into the sirloin Mrs. Haynes had prepared, not liking the turn the conversation had suddenly taken. Taylor clutched my knee beneath the table as if to try and reassure me, but it wasn't helping much.

I always somehow ended up getting mad whenever around her parents, and that anger would never release its hold from around my neck until I was in the clear.

"You know, I have an after school job you can have to get you away from that kind of life. It would help with the pain you have every so often from those horrible practices." Mr. Haynes was never the athletic type, as Taylor has told me. He used to get bullied because of his nerdy ways when he was in high school. Guess by who. The jocks. Maybe that's why he hated me? Because he thought all football players, or soccer players, or swimmers, or even freaking lacrosse players were all the same. Filthy jerks.

Maybe I was, but I had good reasons when fitted with the stereotype. I wasn't always a jerk, though.

But they never saw that side of me because they never cared to act civilized towards me.

I swallowed the piece of steak I had been chewing on for quite a while to release some of my anger before answering with, "No thank you, sir, but I would much rather stick to the awkward jock strap than sit in a cubicle for two hours sharpening pencils." Mrs. Haynes widened her icy eyes at my crude mouth, although how crude was I really? Not very. Mr. Haynes only lowered his eyebrows slightly with a twitch of his left eye.

"I think you should soften up a bit..." Taylor's soft words filtered into my ear as she whispered a septic suggestion. But by the way her breath tickled my skin, causing a scene of attentive hairs to stand, I started to sort of calm down. Along with the same affect she had on me, she was right. I should maybe calm down a bit more. I didn't want her parents hating me more so than they already did, even though I couldn't really have cared. I was only doing it for her.

But I just couldn't. I couldn't do it! I should have, but I could not do it. Not when her oh so very irking parents knew how to push my buttons with just the right amount of force. Not when they always had a jab up their knitted sweater sleeves and filthy smiles. Not when they were glaring at me as if I were the devil himself!