2020 DISCLAIMER: My story 'Boys Will Be Boys' was written when I was a young teenager (about 14/15). There is a lot contained in there that is problematic (i.e. toxic masculinity, internalized misogyny, etc.) I see a lot of people criticizing it nowadays, and you are absolutely correct to. However, I don't think it's correct to criticize people and bash people, be it other readers or writers. The reason I leave this story uploaded is because I know people enjoyed it, and because I wrote it when I was struggling to come out, and I know lots of young people who are struggling to come out look for representation, and I've gotten lots of messages from people thanking me for it, which I find to be truly such an honor, so I leave it up. By no means do I support everything that is written in there now (honestly, at 22, it's kind of a major cringe to me). Y'all feel free to criticize it all you like, and even me if you feel like it. I have no attachment to the story anymore, so it doesn't bug me since I talk shit about my past writing all the time, but please don't harass other readers or commenters. Thank you.
Author's Note:
Ooh.
Guys.
This is my newest attempt at a story. I'm super serious about this one, by the way, so I promise I'm going to kill myself at writing until I actually finish it and am satisified with it. Because I absolutely hate the way my past three stories (all of which are on here) have ended. Anyways, this is actually one of my favorite stories out of the ones I've written, so I hope you enjoy it! Please vote, comment, fan, share, all that good stuff. I love reading you guys' comments, they make my week!
xoxo,
Q.
"Don't tell me. You broke up with her." My best friend, Nate Hill, says, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah." I grin, sheepishly. Nate groans and rests his head in his hands.
"You were dating Vanessa Reeve." He says the name similar to the way someone would say 'Angelina Jolie' or 'Megan Fox'. "First of all, I don't even know how you scored Vanessa Reeve."
Jess Nelson, also one of my best friends, scoffs at him. "Are you kidding? Luke is, like, the best looking guy in school."
Nate gapes at her. "Wow, thanks, Jess."
Jess just shrugs, continuing to eat her salad. "Sorry, man. Fact of life."
Jess Nelson is sass in a glass. She looks like she could be your average stereotype, with pretty blond hair and big brown eyes, but she's really something else if you have the patience to sit down and talk to her.
She has the best comebacks and she can kick my ass in Halo any day. It's pretty easy to see why Nate's totally in love with her.
"Hey guys!" chirps Alana, who sits down next to me with her packed lunch, ready to join the conversation. Alana Trang is the fourth member of our little group. She's also the tiniest. I swear, she's like 4'6.
She opens her lunch and we all raise our eyebrows at the very un-American food inside the Tupperware. She scowls at us.
We tease her way too much for being Asian, but she secretly doesn't care. She just pretends to get mad at us in the hope that we'll stop. Psh, like that'll ever happen.
"What are we talking about?" Alana asks, starting to eat her traditional meal while Nate and I munch on our burgers and Jess chews her salad.
"Luke broke up with Vanessa Reeve." Jess shares and Alana just rolls her eyes at me.
"Again, Luke? Before you know it, you'll have gone through all the girls in school."
I grin. "Well, I'll always have you two." I wink at Jess, who blushes. Nate fidgets awkwardly in his seat. I roll my eyes to myself. The two of them need to get their shit together and become an item already.
"Adams!" yells a voice and I turn to see Bryce and the rest of the guys from the team pass by.
"Phillips." I grin, raising my eyebrows and high-fiving him as he passes by our table. Bryce thinks it's cool to call people by their surnames, so I just go along with it.
Jess rolls her eyes at them, a disgusted look on her face. "How are you friends with them? Bryce is such a tool."
I shrug, taking another bite out of my burger. Bryce Phillips can be kind of a dick sometimes, it's true, but he's harmless.
"I don't know. They're my teammates. Plus they're not that bad." Then I grin cheekily at her. "And Chase Jackson is alright, don't you think? After all, you dated him for three months."
Jess' face goes nearly completely crimson and she stabs at her salad, looking down. Chase and Jess had one of the nastiest breakups in the history of high school dating.
"Hey, man." Nate says, defensively. "Uncalled for."
I keep grinning and shake my head. "Dude, you're already whipped and y'all aren't even dating."
Nate blushes too. Alana whacks me on the head.
"Ow!" I complain, though it didn't actually hurt that much.
"Stop being a douche, Luke." She hisses at me. I grin again, rubbing my head. She rolls her eyes at me, scowling.
Even though I'm a total tool to my friends, I really do love them. They're undoubtedly three of the greatest people I've ever met. It's weird how well we get along, seeing as we're all so different.
After lunch, we all head off to separate classes, making plans to hang out this weekend. I pass Vanessa Reeve on the way to English Lit class.
She gives me the stink eye and I roll my eyes to myself. Girls are so dramatic when it comes to breakups. Admittedly, it must have been a shock to Vanessa, as she's never been dumped in her life, but still.
Must they always be bitches about it? I brush it off and get to class.
*
"Jesus, Gabe, would you stop hitting on girls and hurry up so we can go home?" I groan at my younger brother. He scowls at me, but says goodbye to the girls he's talking to and walks over to where I'm standing, waiting for him.
He's like a mini-me in the face, especially his eyes – huge and blue. His hair's a dark brown though, unlike my dirty blonde. Other than that, he's almost exactly like me. His face is younger though...and scowling.
"What's your problem?" I say, as we start walking towards the school parking lot.
"Ugh, Luke, it sucks having to go to the same school as you." He complains. I raise my eyebrows at him.
"Yeah, you'd be so much cooler if you took the bus to school." I say, sarcastically. He rolls his eyes at me.
"For real, though. All the girls just want me to give them your number."
I bark out a laugh, but Gabe isn't having any of it. I sigh and sling my arm around my baby brother.
"Lighten up, bro. In a year or so, you're gonna look exactly like me. And in two years, I'm gonna be outta here and you'll have your senior year to get all the chicks you could possibly dream of."
This forces him to smile, though you can tell he's trying to fight it.
"Now come on, get in." I say, clicking my car keys. "Unless you wanna take the bus home?"
Gabe rolls his eyes and gets in the car. I laugh and do the same.
Gabe and I get along really well for siblings. He's only a year and a half younger than me, so the age difference doesn't drive us apart.
I was a sophomore when he started high school, so I look out for him. I'm a junior now and he's adapted well into school, so I don't really need to be watching out for him anymore, but I can't help it; I still do. I worry about the kid.
My mother says it's "sweet" how much I care about him.
I roll my eyes to myself, thinking about her. I love my mother, I really do, but she's a little crazy. She cares too much. I swear, she's gonna break down when I go off to college.
I feel guilty just thinking about it.
"What are you so worried about?" Gabe asks, watching me curiously. I shake my head.
"Nothing." I say.
Gabe rolls his eyes at me, but lets it go and changes the subject. "You going out with Vanessa tonight?"
I shake my head again. "Naw, I broke up with her."
He gapes at me. "Are you serious? She was hot!"
I laugh. "She was a royal pain in the ass."
Gabe groans and knocks his head back. "That's not relevant."
I raise my eyebrows and laugh incredulously. "How on Earth is that not relevant?"
"Come on, man, it's high school. Since when does personality matter in the slightest?"
My eyebrows fly up. "Are you serious, Gabe? Even if it is high school, dating is dating. I mean, you wanna at least like the person you're dating. The point of dating, especially in high school, is spending time with someone you care about and want to get to know better."
"No, the point of dating, especially in high school," Gabe responds, using my own words against me. "Is to get popular and get laid."
I roll my eyes. "With that attitude, you are gonna be the king of high school, Gabe."
"Don't you agree, though?"
I consider this, but then shake my head. "Guess I'm just a romantic, huh?" I grin. He actually laughs out loud as this idea; it's that ludicrous.
"Yeah, right." Gabe says, turning his attention back to his iPhone. I roll my eyes at him and focus on the road.
When we get home, we're welcomed by an overwhelming smell from the kitchen. Gabe and I grin at each other, knowing what this means, and we rush to the kitchen to find, sure enough, Mom with oven mitts on, pulling a pan out of the oven.
"Oh my God, yes." Gabe's eyes are practically popping out of his head. "Mom, you're the greatest."
Mom smiles at us. "A treat for my boys. I got your first quarter report cards back today and I'm very proud."
While this may be partly true, all three of us are painfully aware of the real reason. Ever since Gabe was diagnosed, she's been like this.
Either she'll do something really nice for Gabe, like buy him a new pair of sneakers or bake cookies or—in today's case—brownies, or she'll burst into tears when she sees him. Both Gabe and I prefer the former.
Gabe's been really chill about his diagnosis. When we first found out, all of us were really worried. But then the doctors said that anemia was easily managed, though usually chronic.
Gabe was worried at first, like the rest of us, but after he found out how to take care of himself, he was back to his same old irritating self.
Only now, he gets brownies.
Not that I'm complaining; if he gets brownies, so do I.
Mom sets the pan of brownies down on the table and holds her arms out. Gabe and I both go and give her a quick hug.
She smiles at Gabe. "Straight As from my little one."
Gabe looks embarrassed at the nickname, but allows Mom to plant a kiss on his cheek. Probably because of the brownies.
"And Luke!" Mom smiles at me now. "A B minus in Geometry! I'm so proud."
"Ugh, how come when he gets a B minus, it's celebrated, but when I do, it's a disappointment?" Gabe whines. Mom shoots him a glance.
"Gabe! You know your brother has trouble with Geometry."
Gabe rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at me when Mom's not looking. I stick mine back at him.
"Now can we have brownies?" Gabe asks, turning back to Mom.
"We have to wait for them to cool." Mom replies. "Why don't you two go upstairs and put your things away and I'll call you when they've cooled down?"
We agree and Gabe and I run up the stairs, kind of half-wrestling on the way up, and then each go to our own rooms.
My room is like a reflection of every teenage boy in high school. There's a tiny bookshelf by the TV, with dust-covered books that I pretend to have read to make me look intelligent when girls come over.
The TV is much more obviously used, with an Xbox gaming system right under it. My bed isn't made and clothes are messily strewn around the room.
My desk is just as cluttered, with papers and books and pens scattered around, an overflowing trashcan sitting underneath it.
There's a lamp on my bedside table and my phone charger lies next to it, along with an old glass of water that I forgot to take back to the kitchen.
I toss my backpack by my desk and flop down on my messy bed. I should probably get started on some homework, but I really don't feel like it.
I know I'm just going to get started at 9 o'clock anyway and then stay up really late working on it and regret it in the morning. It's pretty much the daily routine.
So I just kinda lay there for a while and then Mom calls us down for brownies. Gabe must've sped out of his room at the speed of light, because he already has four brownies shoved in his mouth by the time I get down there.
I raise my eyebrows at him, but he ignores me, gulping from a glass of milk as he tries to get all the brownies down.
"You're going to choke yourself." I tell him, grabbing a brownie for myself. He just shrugs and I roll my eyes at him, grinning. As crazy as he is sometimes, he's still my brother and I do love him.
*
The next day at school, when I walk in, a group of girls stop their chattering to glare at me. I grin to myself, knowing that those are Vanessa's "friends" and she probably told them to give me the death-glare treatment in hopes that I'll melt into a puddle of shame or something. I roll my eyes, muttering something about girls and their craziness.
I walk over to where my locker is. Alana's already standing there, grabbing books from her own locker. Alana and I have neighboring lockers, totally by coincidence; don't ask me how that happened. Jess and Nate have their lockers down a different hall, so I only see them during class or at lunch.
"Hey Alana?" I say, dumping my bag in my locker and just grabbing the books I need for the first two periods.
"Yeah?" she says, distracted by her own books.
"Why are girls so batshit crazy?" I ask, casually. She turns to grin at me. She's wearing her hipster glasses today.
In fact, she's gone all-out hipster today, with the beanie and the high-waisted skinny khakis and navy blue button-down shirt. Oh dear lord, she's even wearing beige Oxfords. Where does she find this stuff? I swear her closet could be turned into a thrift shop.
Answering my question, she says, "Well, because they're needy and insecure. They want to feel loved and if they feel like they aren't, they feel the need to make everyone around them as miserable as they are so that they're not alone. Girls hate being alone."
I furrow my eyebrows at her. "Alana? Why are you speaking in third-person? You're a girl."
She narrows her eyes at me. "You know as well as I do that I am absolutely nothing like that."
I give her a lopsided grin. "Fair enough."
"Good." She responds and readjusts her glasses. "Now get to class."
I give her one last grin, close my locker, and head off to first period. First period just so happens to be History, which I have with Nate.
The two of us sit in the back of class and pretend to be paying attention when in reality we're just messing around. I'm teasing him about Jess, asking him when he's gonna ask her out already.
"I don't know, man." He replies, seriously. "I mean, if she says no, that'll just make everything really awkward. And if she says yes and we start dating, that'll just change the whole group dynamic. I mean, it's cool when one of us dates outside of the sacred circle, but I mean..." he trails off, but then looks at me, continuing. "It's like...imagine if you and Alana were dating."
"Oh my God, that's the weirdest thing I've ever heard anyone say."
Nate laughs, but then becomes serious again. "Really, though. It would make the whole thing weird. And we've been best friends forever. Is it really worth it to ruin that?"
"Well, that's what you gotta figure out." I say, shrugging. There's a little bit of a pause and then Nate changes the subject.
"So how's Gabe? He dating anyone?" he asks. I snort and shake my head.
"No, but he wishes."
"So hook him up, man." Nate says, starting to doodle on the side of his notebook.
I raise my eyebrows. "You mean set him up with some girl? That's a terrible idea."
"Why?" Nate asks, casually. "Any girl would kill to date you and your brother's the second best. Well, third, of course, after me."
I roll my eyes. "Of course." I sigh. "Still, though. I kind of don't want my brother dating. It'll ruin him."
Now Nate rolls his eyes. "You are way too protective over your brother. You know that eventually, he's going to get a girlfriend and they're going to have sex, and you're not going to be able to do anything to stop it."
I groan. "Wow, Nate, thanks for putting that image into my head."
Nate shrugs. "Sorry, bro. But seriously, it's not like you're exactly a role model either. You had sex in high school."
I don't respond to this. None of my friends know that I've actually never had sex. It's not like I lied to them; they just assumed. And I never corrected them.
I could tell them, they'd be cool and everything. I just don't want to.
Nate's slept with his ex-girlfriend, Lilith Campbell, and Jess slept with Chase Jackson. Alana hasn't though and she's in no rush. I wish I could be a little more like her. But I'm also a guy, so it's different.
It's not like I'm ashamed, it's just that if I admit it now, it'll look much worse, because I let them believe that I wasn't for so long. Ugh, I think way too much.
Alana always says I have way too much going on in my mind. I search through my brain for something else to think about.
The second quarter of the year just started, which means winter's approaching quickly. It also means that basketball season's starting back up, which is definitely a good thing for me.
Though it means a lot more time in the sweaty locker rooms with Bryce and the rest of them. Not the best thing.
Still, I love basketball. My friends don't get it; they think it's a sport for morons. I tease them right back, because Nate plays lacrosse. I mean, seriously? Lacrosse?
And as for the girls, well, I tease Alana for being in the book club, but Alana has never had any issues of insecurity or low-self esteem so she just disregards me, with her nose up in the air.
When it comes to Jess, she's not really in any clubs or on any teams that I can tease her about, but whenever she makes fun of my sport, I always bring up Chase Jackson, which shuts her up immediately.
It's mean, I know, but it's the only retort I've got against her. For now.
So your assumptions are right. My friends don't come to games. Never have, never will, and I've been playing since freshman year.
Whatever girl I'm dating at the time comes though and shrieks from the stands, cheering, "Go, Luke! Baby, go!" even though she has absolutely no idea what's going on in the game.
Even though I just broke up with Vanessa as basketball season's starting, I know that without a doubt, I'll be dating someone else before our first game. I have a week. I could date three girls in that time span.
*
"Come on, please?" Alana begs, using the puppy dog eyes on me. I roll my eyes at her and continue to shake my head, firmly.
"No! Get Jess to go with you." I say for the hundredth time.
"But Jess is terrible to shop with. She gets all girly and wants to buy everything. I just want a really good pair of Converse and some high-waisted shorts."
I toss my head back, groaning dramatically. "I hate shopping."
"I'll buy you frozen yoghurt."
My head snaps up. "You have caught my attention."
Alana grins and I shudder. I swear, that girl is evil.
So in the end, she wins, and she drags me to the mall with her. I avoid the mall like the plague. I hate shopping and make Gabe buy me all my clothes, because for some reason he enjoys shopping.
Yeah, I don't get it either. I mean, I care about how I look, so I give Gabe specific instructions on what to buy me, but I hate the actual act of shopping. It's so boring and tiring.
"Oh my God, why are you such a yawn?" Alana exclaims, as she flips through a rack of shirts and pulls out a pale pink blouse to examine.
"I'm a guy! Have you ever met a guy besides Gabe who likes shopping?" I complain.
She considers this. "Well, yes, actually. I have met one. But he was gay."
"Exactly."
She shoots me a stone-cold glare. "I'm lying. He wasn't gay. I just wanted to see if you believe in all the narrow-minded stereotypes."
I groan. "Alana, don't do this to me."
"Do what?" she asks innocently.
"You know perfectly well what. You're doing that thing where you analyze everything I say and make me look like a jerk."
She grins wickedly. "No, you do that very well by yourself."
I scowl at her, but she's unfazed. Ugh, I wish I could scowl like Jess. Jess could make you quake in your boots if she wanted to.
She's generally a really nice and bubbly person, but if she's pissed...boy, you better run.
I follow Alana around like a puppy dog for a couple more hours, reluctantly giving her my opinion when she asks.
Finally, with a sigh, she says we're done and I immediately perk up. We walk to the food court together and she buys me the promised frozen yoghurt as well as one for herself.
We sit at a table and eat our frozen yoghurt, chatting easily about things like school and basketball and dating and we gossip a little about Jess and Nate.
Gossip is a terrible word to use and I'm more than slightly ashamed about using it, but there isn't really a better word to use.
Alana and I constantly talk about Nate and Jess. Not in a bad way, but mostly about how stupid the two of them are for not just getting together already.
Everyone knows it's going to happen—even their parents—except the two of them. It's pretty aggravating, I'll tell you that much.
"Hey, Luke!"
I look up and grin when I see Chase, with Mike O'Reilly tagging along behind him. Mike's another one of my teammates.
We do the man-shake and they nod at Alana as a form of greeting. She rolls her eyes and turns back to her frozen yoghurt.
"What's up, guys?" I ask, my hands now in my pockets as I stand in that boyish way, my shoulders up and my back slightly hunched.
"Oh, not much. We just stopped by for a bite to eat." Chase responds, shrugging. I nodded, though I knew they were probably there shopping.
Guys like Chase and Mike really care about appearances. Come to think of, most athletes are like that. At least, in our school it seems that way. I don't know if that includes me or not.
Guys always pretend they're the way girls think they are, but they're really not. They're much less ballsy and gross than most think.
In reality, they're consumed with a mixture of self-doubt and self-obsession. Then they shove down all the doubt, convincing themselves it doesn't exist, and prance around acting like they're the shit. This, of course, makes them all look like complete douchebags. (I'm fully aware of how weird it is that I'm speaking in third person and how I chastised Alana for doing the exact same thing earlier).
But despite the image we/they give off, there's a deep-set need for love, for acceptance, and most of all, for approval.
Yep, we're much deeper than girls give us credit for.
And I know this sounds really awful—not to mention really, really sexist—but to me, all I see when I look at girls—especially the ones I date—are whiny little bitches.
"Anyways, we'll let you get back to your date." Mike says, quickly shooting a glance at Alana, who suddenly chokes on her yoghurt. I burst into laughter.
Chase is also grinning.
Because he dated Jess for a while, he knows the dynamics of my little friend group, so he knows that the prospect of Alana and I dating is right up there with the possibility of me suddenly sprouting wings and flying to China with Sarah Palin on my back singing Gospel music.
"N-no," I manage to choke out in between laughs. "Alana and I aren't dating."
"Oh." Mike says, glancing at Alana, who's just finished coughing up the yoghurt she was choking on. "So you don't mind if I hit that?"
Alana immediately stands up and my eyes widen. I take a step backwards, instantly scared.
Alana gets right up in Mike's face, her finger up warningly. "I swear to God, if you ever speak to me in that derogatory way again, I will not hesitate to rip your throat out with my fingernails." She moves to sit back down, but turns back to Mike with a final thought. "Oh, and I doubt you'll ever 'hit' anything." She makes air-quotes with her fingers and sits back down, continuing to eat her yoghurt like nothing happened.
Mike stands there; looking shocked, and turns to Chase for an explanation. Chase is just laughing, shaking his head incredulously.
"Sorry, Alana." Chase calls to Alana, who just waves her hand as a sign saying 'I heard you' but not turning her head. "Anyways, we're gonna go. See you at practice."
"Bye guys." I say, sitting back down across from Alana. She glares at me.
"How do you stand them?" she asks with a revolted look on her face.
I grin. "I'm a guy."
She rolls her eyes. "That's not a good answer."
I shrug. "What can I say? Boys will be boys."