Locker Love Notes (DISCONTINUED)

Boys locker room- Chapter 1

Out of all my sixteen years of being alive, nearly three of those years going through high school, I think I've come to find that the worlds most dangerous entities are straight teenage boys in a locker room with towels. 

I looked from my end of the small locker room. I blinked slowly, feeling tension squeeze itself inside of my chest, biting my lip with embarrassment. I was careful not to make too much eye contact with the groups of boys who I'd been observing for a few moments. They sat talking about various things, all while ringing up their towels with large grins across their faces. The smell of their axe body spray was nearly suffocating- not to mention how it made my eyes water like crazy.

I heard the loud snaps of their towels as I turned back to my locker, opening it and grabbing my combat styled boots from inside. I felt way too hot in my face, and...other places. I uncomfortably shifted my legs, scratching at the back of my hand and sucking in a deep breath. 

The name's Ethan by the way. Ethan Nestor. I suppose if you're reading this we're going to get quite acquainted with each other. I never really pictured myself talking about my boner while in the boys changing room at school, but here we are. I ran a hand through my mess of thick hair, taking a seat and sighing. I never got undressed in front of anyone else, so I had already gotten my clothes on. My nose piercing stung more than usual, giving me an unpleasant sensation throughout my face. I flicked it with my fingers, glancing up as I did so. I laced up my boots as I stared off into space, not thinking about anything in particular. Just a bit longer until lunch. Not like I was in any hurry to go to the abandoned art building and smoke but it was nicer than sitting in the bathroom. The art building, or my safe haven, was supposed to be off limits to the other students since it was going to be bulldozed, but that was years ago when the school actually had the money to do that. Now it's just filled with old unwanted junk, including myself at lunch and my friend whenever I ran out of smokes. I took in a deep breath, running a hand down my cheek and shaking my head. Even if it was old and unwanted, I'd come to admire everything left in that building. 

"Alright boys, settle down." I glanced up as our Gym coach waltzed into the room, clipboard in his dark toned hands. His voice was dark and loud, as you'd expect from a gym teacher who likes torturing teenage boys. He glared at two classmates who were still fighting over a towel before continuing. 

"You guys' mile times are really slackin'!" He announced, placing a firm hand on his hip. "At this rate we'll be fallin' behind the girls." he barked, twirling his necklace with a whistle at the end of it. "I don't know who's been pissin in y'alls cornflakes to make y'all act like a bunch of sissies but we better cut the crap!" I sighed, putting my cheek in the palm of my hand. This was always his pep talk after gym, so it wasn't anything new. Why was P.E. such a big deal anyways? I dug in my pocket for a second or two, popping a cough drop in my mouth and shoving the wrapper back in my pocket. 

"The highest runner was of course, Mr. Fischbach at eight minutes and twelve seconds," he continued, pointing to one of my classmates. "And our slowest...ah. Mr. Nestor." I blinked in surprise, being pulled from my thoughts. I heard the others boys chuckle to themselves and rolled my eyes. Of course Mark Fischbach had the fastest time. Mark...his name always left a bad taste in my mouth. 

"You comin' to practice tonight boy?" coach asked Mark, a smirk on his face. I fought the urge to roll my eyes again as he flipped his dark raven hair to the side and flashed a wide smile back. God...why did he have to be so perfect all the time.

"You know it. I actually like to be active," he joked, throwing a snarky glance my way. I felt my face get hot as the other boys giggled to themselves. 

"Good. You know it's crunch time, our first game is getting close already," the coach continued. I spaced out from that point forward.  Mark is...what you'd call popular now a days to put it simply. I mean, how could he not be? Star quarter back, good looking...it made me want to throw up. Sure he wasn't a straight A student or anything, but what he lacked in brain he made up for in strength. While he was popular, he wasn't what you'd call polite by any means. His anger issues were through the roof at all times, and he seemed to be caught in his own little bubble of problems that he always took out on others. He would pick on anyone who looked at him the wrong way but I was his main hunting game as of sophomore year when our little 'incident' happened. (I'm now a Junior). I guess I was somewhat of an easy target. Quiet, moody, wears all black, boom. You've got the perfect punching bag. I sucked on my cough drop harshly, listening to it clack against my teeth. Mark had moved here in Junior High as a nobody, yet somehow cultivated popularity like it was nothing. He was a bit taller than me, 5'7 if I had to take a guess. His skin was tanned and clear, like a model, and he was built like one too. Broad shoulders, toned arms, a kick ass set of abs.  His deep brown coloured eyes always peered from behind his dark hair  with such a snarkiness in them it was almost unbelievable. Of course he and his group of cronies acted all the same; douchey and athletic, but...there was something about Mark that seemed different. Sure, he was a stereotypical bully. There was something in his eyes though. I could see right through his tough guy act. I scratched at the back of my hand aggressively, red lines forming and threatening to spill blood.