Bitter Affectionate

Prologue

"This isn't a history test, is it?"

I glanced over at my best friend beside me incredulously. With a smile, I shook my head and whispered back, "Why the hell do you think this is a history test?"

"I'll take that as a no."

"The whole test is in Spanish! Why do you think its history?"

"I don't know, maybe old people speak a lot of Spanish."

I rolled my eyes at him and turned back to my own test. "You're a dumbass."

"I'm so screwed," He muttered, "I'm going to fail this. If I fail Spanish, coach won't let me play."

"Its just one test, Brent. You'll do better on the next one."

"No, I won't," He sighed, "I suck. I can't even answer the first question."

I looked over at him, at the distress on his face, then my eyes fell on the teachers empty chair. I groaned, falling victim to his game, and taking his test off his desk silently.

"Drew? What are you doing?"

"You know what I'm doing, you big idiot. Shut up, or you'll draw attention to us."

I filled out the test, using my handy skill of copying handwriting, and faked his printing. I signed his name at the top, quick chicken scrawls, the way he wrote it on the top of every test sheet.

The test was stupidly easy, therefore I didn't feel too bad about filling it out for him. I handed it back to him when I was finished, and saw him erase two of the answers.

"What are you doing?" I repeated his question from before, and he looked up at me like I was the stupid one.

"I'm getting a few wrong. If I get them all right, June will know I cheated."

Brent had a habit of calling teachers by their first names. He got away with it because he was so loveable. If anyone else would have done it, they would be in huge trouble, but Brent's shining, good-boy eyes couldn't be denied.

"Good thinking. You're finally using your brain."

When Mrs Turner returned to the room, me and Brent quickly dropped our heads and pretended we're busy, even though both of our tests were already complete. We waited for a few people to hand up their tests first, then I handed mine up, and Brent followed suit. Mrs Turner seemed a little suspicious of Brent, but took the test nonetheless and told him to sit back down. We both took out our phones.

A moment later, I got a text message.

Brent: "Party tonight. You going?"

I didn't even have to think.

Drew: "Yeah, if you are. It'd be boring to go alone."

Brent: "You just want to go with me because you think I'm hot."

Drew: "Please. I'm worried about the girls that go out with you. They're eye sight must be terrible."

Brent: "Hey, I thought you were supposed to be nice to me?"

Drew: "When I feel like it."

From the corner of my eye, I saw him smiling, which made me smile, too.

Brent: "I can help you pick up guys at the party, Drew. You'll be a hit with my help."

Drew: "No, thank you."

I came out as gay to Brent four years ago, when we were both thirteen years old. He took it a lot better than most thirteen year old boys would, and to that day did nothing but stand up for me and help me. He was the only person who knew, and there wasn't a day in which I regreted telling him. He was my knight in shining armour.