"Oh, uhh, just looking around," I say, looking down at my shoes.
"You're not a narc, right?" Faux Hawk Boy looks me up and down. He's sizing me up, just like Marcus had in the stairwell. I wonder what goes through their mind when they survey me. What are they even looking for?
"No, no. I'm not a narc. I was just wondering what was in this room. A ping-pong table, apparently."
"Oh, yeah," his glare softens into a slight smile. "The table was supposed to be for a student rec room. There was a fundraiser for it and all, but it never happened. Admin probably pocketed the money."
"Knowing them? Definitely." Faux Hawk Boy doesn't seem too bad. I'm not sure if he recognizes me as Gabe's "friend" or not and if it would even matter if he did.
"Are you a Senior?" he asks me, running his hand through his hair. I guess he doesn't know who I am, which isn't surprising considering that I hardly talk to anyone besides Gabe. I should probably try to be more social, but, you know, high schoolers are kind of vicious.
"Yeah. You are too, right?"
"Yep! This is my first year at this school, though. I went to Saint Joseph Academy for Freshman through Junior year." Now it makes sense why I had hardly seen Faux Hawk. I didn't really peg him for the Christian private school type, but I guess I could see it.
"Oh, that's cool. The only thing I know about Saint Joseph's is that it's for hardcore Christians with a shit ton of money." I take a second to process what I just said. Why do I always think after speaking? "Sorry," I add, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I'm sure it's cool there."
"Nah, you're spot on. There are definitely some... extreme people there, and, yeah, most of them are loaded. My family's just the strict Christian type, not loaded, though. I was on a scholarship." Faux Hawk moves toward me, leaving his position at the doorway. He sits on a desk right next to me. "You wanna sit?"
"Sure," I say, shifting my weight onto the desk behind me. I feel weirdly comfortable with Faux Hawk. Usually, I'd be terrified to be in some closet with a random guy who could, based on the size of his biceps, pretty easily beat me up, but things feel natural with him. "Do you come to this dingy closet a lot?" I ask him, wanting our conversation to continue.
Faux Hawk laughs at my comment. "Don't call my closet dingy! It's just... rustic."
"Your closet? You claimed this place in the half-semester you've been here?"
He rolls his eyes at me. "Well, I don't think anyone else has claimed it, so yeah, it's my closet. I could probably take this ping pong table," he pats the table, "and no one would notice."
"Ten dollars says you can't sneak it out," I tease. "Those ladies that work in the front office have eyes like hawks."
"Although I'm not usually one to shy away from a bet," Faux Hawk's smirk seems to confirm that, "I wouldn't want to rob my closet of its main attraction."
"Attraction?" I laugh. "You invite a lot of people back here to play ping pong?"
"I mean, I totally would if there were paddles and a ping pong ball. Unfortunately, it's not a super fun game with just the table."
"That's too bad," I tell him. "I was really looking forward to playing a game with you. I'm pretty good at ping pong."
"Oh, yeah?" Faux Hawk asks, smiling. He runs his hand through his hair again. He's very attractive but in a different way than Gabe. He is less ripped-jock (although he definitely lifts, judging from his arms) and more pampered, perfect skin and hair handsome.
It's odd how easy it is to talk to Faux Hawk (I should probably learn his name), but I can't shake the sensation of guilt in my stomach. I'm not doing anything wrong, or at least I don't think I am, yet I feel like a traitor of some sort.
"Well," I say, trying to prevent the inevitable mental spiral that will arise from continuing the conversation, "I've gotta get going. See you around, uh, what's your name?"
"What's yours?" He replies. I tilt my head and smile at him. I guess there is something exciting about anonymity. "See you around, dude."
...
I inhale deeply, holding my breath, before opening the door to my house. I expect to see my mother waiting impatiently for my return, but... nothing. Aside from the hum of the air conditioner, it's completely silent. I tiptoe to my bedroom, not looking to end the unusual peacefulness.
I fall back on my bed, feeling weighed down by some outside force. It's odd; I've started to come out of my shell per se, but I'm still lonely. Maybe I've been without companionship for so long that my brain no longer remembers how to feel "normal," whatever that may be.
I'd call Gabe, but he has his basketball game, and I doubt he'd be thrilled if Marcus saw me calling him. And I haven't even wrapped my mind around that whole situation. Is this some kind of fucked up love triangle? What if Gabe decides that he doesn't want me? He already knows Marcus, while I'm just some guy from PE.
I hate to even think about it, but why would Gabe ever want me when he could be with someone who's more, you know, attractive. He told me I'm hot, which is comforting to hear, but I wonder if it's just a formality. Like, you wouldn't kiss someone and then say, "You're so ugly," or at least I hope not.
I wish I had someone to talk to. It must be nice to have as many friends as Gabe. Ever since my junior year, I've been without friends, aside from those semester-long seating chart friendships that go nowhere. It's terrifying to put myself out into the social battlefield of high school, so I've avoided it for a long time.
I can tell I'm falling into a self-pitying spiral, so I reach for the melatonin gummies on my nightstand and pop two in my mouth. Sometimes, you just need to sleep sadness off. It's probably not the best way to deal with pain, but I don't really care. Whatever stops the thinking.
...
I am awoken by the buzzing of my phone. Confused, I reach through my tangled bedsheets to find it. The brightness of the screen blinds me when I finally retrieve it. A FaceTime call - from Gabe! He didn't forget our "first date."
I swing my arm out to hit the switch for my lamp, knocking over my melatonin gummies all over the floor (fuck my life). I try to tame my bedhead with my fingers, but my hair refuses to cooperate. I'm sure I look like shit, but I answer the call, not wanting Gabe to think I'm ignoring him.
Gabe's face pops up on my phone. His face is reddened, and his hair is sweaty and messy like mine, although he pulls it off much better.
"Jake!" He exclaims with a big smile. "I missed you." I smile back at him. I don't know when anyone told me they missed me.
"I missed you too," I tell him. "How was your game?"
"Pretty good," he tells me as he walks to his bedroom. Gabe falls back onto his bed, holding his phone above his face, giving me a view as if I'm on top of him. "We won, but I missed a free throw, which was super embarrassing. I think I made up for it by making a three-pointer, though."
"Oh wow, good job!" I say, not exactly sure what he is saying, but happy for him nonetheless. I'm having more fun envisioning him, sweaty, running and dribbling. I think I'm just a sucker for jocks.
"You don't know what any of that means, do you?" He teases.
"I do!" I insist. "You, you know, three-pointed by throwing the ball far."
"Well, yeah," he laughs. "And sorry I'm not dressed up for our date. I swear I'll shower before the next one."
"I don't mind," I assure him, which is completely true. I think of the red boxer briefs. That was a weird choice of mine. "I'm not looking my best either."
"I'd beg to differ. You look hot as fuck to me."
"Please," I laugh, "I look terrible. I just woke up from a nap."
"Damn, wish I could've been there. I could get over your twin-sized bed if it meant laying with you. You know, you should come over to my house for a sleepover."
"Really? Your parents would be ok with that?"
"Yeah, as long as you're not too loud a moaner." I open my mouth, caught off guard by Gabe's forwardness. "Shit, sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?"
"No, no, no, you're not, but thank you for asking. I... think I like it?"
"Oh, cool, but if I'm ever going too fast, just let me know. I want you to feel comfortable. Comfortable and turned on, if possible."
"That's how I'm feeling right now, so mission accomplished!" It's odd, being flirted with so directly. I don't think anyone's ever really flirted with me.
"Perfect. Well, I'm going to go rinse off because I feel super gross right now." Gabe stands up, leaving his phone on the bed. He lifts his shirt over his head, exposing his toned chest and abs. Fuck.
"Oh, ok. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess," I say, somewhat disappointed. Gabe looks down at the camera, eyebrows furrowed.
"You don't have to go if you don't want to. I'd hate for our first date to be so short."
"What, you're going to take your phone in the shower?" I ask, hoping the answer is a yes.
"Only if you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all."
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