Chapter Fourteen -bxb-

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Garcia High - 14

     The long awaited sweet taste of Keishauns lips nearly sends me over the edge.  Sparks are shooting between us and tension is high when I feel Keishaun beginning to respond.  A surge of joy and lust explodes in my chest as our mouths move in sync. Rubbing my hands up and down his arms, I feel goosebumps rising on his skin. His tongue slides across my bottom lip, asking for entrance which I immediately grant.  His strawberry pink tongue slips into my mouth and our tongues rub against each others in a seductive dance. A groan escapes from deep inside me causing Keishaun to push me further into the couch so our bodies are closer.  Running my hand up under his shirt I reach his well defined abs and-


     If it isn't for my tingly swollen lips and aroused lower section I couldn't have even known he was there.  Sitting up slowly I look over to where Keishaun now rests. He is sitting in a chair across from the couch; head in his hands. 

     What the fuck?

     "Leave." The one word pierces me straight to my heart. 

     "What the-"

     "Leave."Still slightly flustered, I get up from the couch and take a step towards him.  He can't do this! 

     "Why should I leave?" I demand, "I thought things were going pretty good."


     A growl rips from my throat, surprising myself, "Fuck! What the hell is your problem? At least tell me why?" 

     Keishaun still won't look at me, "'Cause. We could never work."


     He sighs, his whole body heaving tiredly, "Maybe, you will kno..." His voice trails off for a second, 'fuck dis shit. Leave."

     Turning towards the door, I open it and ask, "Where will I stay?"

     "Here. I wouldn't leave a bro hangin'. Just 'member. We bros not hoes."  With a pain in my chest I nod, leave the house and begin wander down to the basketball court to just sit and think for awhile. Keishaun is fucking confusing.  Why the hell did he respond like that when everything was fireworks and shit? I don't know and it make me majorly pissed.  

     Shit, I've got a hard on


     Keishaun wasn't at the house when I came back a couple hours later. So I set up my stuff on the couch and made myself at home.  Around 12:30 p.m. I drift off to sleep, too tired to try and wait up for Keishaun.  

     One week later

     With each day passing I realized something.   Keishaun is avoiding me. I'm so confused and hurt I feel like a chick.  If this is how emotional and shit girls feel like all the time...boy, props to them.  Anyways, my injuries are healed up alright and since Keishaun is rarely home I find myself chatting with LeBron more and more. Well, more like he's chatting with me more and more. Sigh. The only time I really see Keishaun is in basketball practice and even there he interacts with me as little as possible. But out of all of this, only one thing is really bothering me. 

     Whenever I see Keishaun, he has bruises all over him.  Well, where ever I can see.  It keeps reminding me of when I was living with my father which gets me all worked up that The Dick will pop in with a shotgun.  Shit.  

     It's Saturday again, and I've got nothing to do because the weekly party got canceled.   School's been out for a bit and I'm just lazing around "my" house with LeBron.  Again.  

     "Yo," I hear him call from the kitchen, "yo ever been to a..alternative club?"  If this was a cartoon, question marks would be floating above my head.  

     "What's an alternative club?"   LeBron is snickering as he walks into the living room.  

     He smirks, "Gay."  

     My eyes pop open, "Um, no."  He's gay?

     "Then let's go."


     Happy DK 

     That was the name of the gay bar, except some punk had spray painted ic above DK.   Let's have some fun, I guess.  Once we enter the building I'm shocked by how much it looks like a regular club, except instead of chicks...there's well, guys.  But despite that, I still feel uncomfortable.  

     Maybe I'm just Keishaun-sexual..hey-shnexual!

     "You wanna drink?" LeBron breaks me from my thoughts, yelling over the bass thumping out of speakers.  I nod in response, hoping a drink will calm my nerves and sick stomach.  It does neither, but I just shove it away and follow LeBron on the dance floor.  

     Everything feels wrong.   The lights, the dancing, the way I feel.  I'm not sure how much more I can take of this. And right at that moment, LeBron starts grinding on me.  Holy fuck! 

     Shoving him off I scream over the music, "I'm sorry, I can't do this!" and bolt outta that motherfucker. Calling a taxi quickly, I'm soon zooming away.   All of my emotions are wack.  Not to mention LeBron didn't make any part of me enjoy what happened.  A shiver runs down my spine as I remember him shoving his ass all over my junk.  Stop right there homie.  Oh wait-

    "Stop right there, homie!" I tell the driver as we pass a familiar rundown park.  He does, and after paying him the price, I start heading over to the basketball court.  Lately, the park's court has been my place to come and think or just, well, play basketball.  Of course not with Keishaun or anything. 

     "Uh, shit, ow."  Groaning from on the court is heard and I dash behind a tree.   A group of buff looking men are surrounding someone on the ground, beating the shit outta him.  Whoa! Those are Keishaun's groupies! I feel a flashback  coming on, but push it away and watch as each guy takes their turn doing one last kick or spitting on the poor fellow.  




     After each hurtful word and kick or punch, the group leaves; laughing their asses off.   I sprint over to see if the guy is alright and gasp.  

     It's Keishaun. 

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