Star Crossed

Chapter 13: Just my Luck

Jayden

I stare down at the small slip of paper for about the millionth time. When I signed up for the stupid secret Santa thing, I didn't actually expect that I would get Hawk. I mean, I was kind of...sort of...hoping to get him. But I figured with the thirty or forty other students who signed up that I wouldn't. But, of course, I did.

Those who signed up were told to put something they like on their name slip. And Hawk thought that it would be a good idea to write 'gay shit' on his paper. When I first read it my mind went to some...interesting places.

I shiver as I push the vivid imagery out of my mind. I place the small piece of paper back down on my nightstand. I lay down on my bed, staring up at the white ceiling of my bedroom. I turn my attention to the setting sun outside. The sky is a beautiful mix of pink, purple, and orange. I sigh as I reach for my phone at the end of my bed.

I only have like a week before the secret Santa gift exchange, and I still have no idea what to get for Hawk. I did have one idea, but it was NOT school appropriate (like at all). I mean what does 'gay shit' even include?

I scroll through some different websites, trying to find something that I feel he would like. I could just deviate from what he said he would like and get him something different instead. Oh, he likes music, maybe I could get him something music related. I bet what he really would like is an explanation of our kiss. 'Cause it wasn't like when you're at a party and you start randomly hooking up with someone just for the fun of it. It was just...random.

Even I can't entirely say why I kissed him. In that moment I felt so compelled to do it though. To hold him, to touch him, to feel lips against mine. I groan slightly as I feel a stirring where I do not want there to be stirring. I change my thoughts as fast as possible, thinking of my grandma, attempting to stop it as fast as I can.

After a few seconds of my grandma, it goes away. Thank god, that would have been an uncomfortable thing to live with if I had done that because I thought of Hawk.

Fuck. Why did I have to think about Hawk again? Suddenly I feel my jeans grow tighter. I groan in annoyance and get up from my bed to take a cold shower.

* * * *

"Mom!" I yell down the stairs to the basement where my Mom's currently watching TV.

"Yeah?" She replies.

"I'll be out for a while. I'll see you at dinner!" I shout, throwing on my coat and shoes, and leaving the house.

While I was...in the shower...I thought of a great gift for Hawk. I remembered that a music shop down town does custom guitar straps. I thought since he most likely has a guitar that it would be a good gift.

I walk down the few streets it takes to get to the store. I step inside, hearing a bell ring as I open the door, and walk to the front counter. A middle-aged man is standing behind it reading a magazine. He's tall, and is wearing a pear of big round glasses.

"Excuse me?" I ask. The man looks up to me. I step closer to the counter, resting my arm on it.

"How much does it cost to have a custom guitar strap?"

"Depends," the man begins, "Do you want leather or cotton?"

"Leather, I guess."

"How do you want it customized?"

"I want to have a name put on it."

"That'll be about $35, but you'll pay once the things ready. You can go over there and pick out one of the guitar straps, then come over here and I'll type the name into the computer," he explains, gesturing to an area at the back of the shop. I nod, walking over there.

I look through some of the different leather straps. Some have other designs on them. Some are plain. Some are black. Some are brown. Some are even colours like green and yellow. I gaze around a bit until I find a black one with a few swirly designs at the end of it.

I go back over to the guy at the counter, handing him the leather strap.

"What's the name?" He asks, getting the computer near him ready to type it out.

"Hawk," I say simply.

"Like the bird?" He questions, giving me a confused look. I roll my eyes.

"Yes, like the bird."

"How's it spelled?" He asks, this was less for how to write it on the guitar strap and more for the fact that he's confused.

"H-A-W-K!" I practically yell to him. He gives me a startled look, but types it into the computer without another word.

"You can write it on the right side of it by the end. And can the writing be vertically?"

"Yeah, sure kid. Is that all?" He raises an eyebrow to me.

"Yes, that's all," I state bluntly.

"You can pick it up on Wednesday night."

With that I leave the shop, silently hoping that the man won't purposely mess up my order. I walk back home, putting my coat and shoes into the closet once I arrive, and sitting down to a nice Sunday dinner with my Mom.