If you are under age or live in an area where reading stories that include sex between males is illegal, or if you are not into this type of story, please leave. This is a love story and it will take a while to develop, so if you are looking for more of a sexual story, there are plenty of them around. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are greatly appreciated at james5508@gmail.com
Chapter 1
It was all just too real. It had to have been two years since the last time I'd seen him, and, boy, what two years could do to someone. It was like taking a nap and waking up in some parallel universe. Seriously, it was that eerie.
But you're probably wondering what I'm talking about right? Well, see my name is Jason Moretti and I'm about ready to turn the big eighteen. I just finished my junior year at West Millard High School where I play for the football team. I used to play mainly as a wide receiver, but I switched over in high school to the quarterback on the JV team, and then second string on varsity. I don't know if that sounds impressive or not, but the girls sure love to hang around me and my best buds, swooning all over the place constantly "oohing" and "ahhing" everything we talk about. But enough about me, I was talking about how I saw him for the first time since, I guess the end of middle school.
One the weekends I'm usually at one of my friends houses, hanging out or throwing a party, like we were this weekend. We were all (I'm not sure of the exact number, but there seemed to be a lot of people there that I've never seen before) at my friend Bobby's house this time around, but I hadn't seen him since I first showed up (I had a feeling he was in one of the bedrooms upstairs, wink, wink), so I was just hanging out in one of downstairs rooms, most likely a family room or something, it really doesn't matter. Now I'm no where near being shy, but rather I'm loud and active with lots of friends that always seem to be hanging on me. Which is why it was so strange that I was completely dumbstruck when I saw him leaning against the dark mahogany door frame leading out from the kitchen.
He was talking to some girl that I don't think I've ever seen before. I couldn't see her face from my vantage point on the opposite side of the room, but I could clearly make out his profile.
Moderately tall, still several inches shorter than I was, somethings never change, but others definitely do. His face seemed clear of any blemishes, a slight tan, I don't really know what to call it. His skin was definitely darker than what I remember, or maybe I just didn't ever notice it before. Truth be told, I had never saw him the way I was seeing him now, something I'm not very proud of. Anyway, it seemed like he had spent all the time he had been away at some kind of beach or something, and it really seemed to help him showcase his body to everyone in the room. His physic was awesome! And I can say that from a non-biased perspective because from someone spending all the time playing sports that I have, I've seen some pretty awesome bods, and his would definitely be up there.
His tanned skin played off well against with his jet black hair, which he kept like semi-wavy on top, and a little shorter on the sides, which gave him a kind of, I dunno, Mediterranean look. But when he smiled, well it just seemed to light up his whole face, giving him an incredible All-American looking persona which you wouldn't be shocked to find gracing the pages of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog.
I must have spent like five whole minutes staring at him. I swear I don't know what's wrong with me. But it must be serious, maybe like a seizure or something, no wait, when you have a seizure you like, start shaking and fainting and stuff like that, so scratch that. It was just plain weird, I mean I had not ever just looked at someone before, but I could see the benefit of it.
ÔDude! Shake it off, what the hell are you talking about.' Sorry Ôbout that, but sometimes I get stuck in some kind of dream funk, and I have to, like just shake myself out of it. Ok, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, well I had seen many a good, or what the hell, great bodies during my short, little seventeen years here on God's green earth, and I could really rate his body as a fantastic one. And I know what you're thinking...'could he be anymore vague ... for Christ's sake would you just spit it out already?' And well you're right, but come on. I've never done this sort of thing before and I have to tell you its really starting to freak me out. But I'll give it a shot.
Okay, so I may be exaggerating a little when it comes to how he looked. His body really didn't look much like mine. I'm mean, I'm kinda tall with sport muscles that have developed from years of playing ball, but just from looking at him from across the room, I could tell that he was unquestionably toned.
That's something that I have always admired about guys with shorter statures then us taller guys, because while we can definitely pack on the muscles, its incredibly hard to get them to hang around, and then by some miracle manage to get them expertly toned and conditioned. You could tell that he had a swimmers body, but not really tall enough to hugely fast in the water, after all you do to have a certain height and arm span to be really good at competition swimming--not really a requirement per se, but something that would do a world of good to have. Sorry, but I think I should have mentioned it before now, but as you've probably noticed I can go off on long, and often bizarre tangents about really nothing at all, so I just hope that you'll be able to bear with me. Now back to whatever I was talking about.
He was wearing some kind of black, or at least I think it was black, most likely some stupid dark color called like Prussian Blue, button up shirt, and probably with jeans, I couldn't see really well because that girl was standing right in front of him, not that I particularly care, I just wanted to make sure that I was mentioning everything.
Like I said, I didn't know who the girl talking to him was, or at least from the back I didn't recognize her. Maybe from the front? Possibly, but she really didn't have body type that would have made me recognize her. Unlike most of the girls at the party, she had dark black hair, most of the girls at the party had blonde hair. Ever think its strange that most cheerleaders have blonde hair? Coincidence? I probably shouldn't say that because while I too have black hair--I'm Italian so what else did you expect--I did get my cousin to dye it blonde one summer. It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, I looked like a cannoli, the darker skin with the white on top. Yeah, I don't recommend trying it anytime soon. I know that has nothing to do with anything I was talking about, just take it as an interesting fact.
Anyway, back to the mystery girl, so she had black hair, it was long, probably down towards the middle of her back, but completely straight, no curls or waves. She was skinny, but not in that kind of model skinny with the bones showing, more like, I don't know, a healthy skinny. She was really one hot little package.
She was dressed in the same style as he was, dark clothes, but not cheap kind, but what looked like expensive, professional clothes. And thats like the only way I can describe how the two were dressed--it looked like they were going to some sort of church, but their clothes had a somewhat relaxed undertone, it was really kind of cool. That's the best I can do I swear, I just don't know how else to put it, so I guess you'll have to deal with it.
Now before I get ahead of meself, ha-ha, meself, sounds kinda British, anyway I guess now would be the ideal time to mention that his name is Dylan Blain. See we grew up together, he lived three houses down from me and my parents and we were the best of friends for what seems like forever, but then sometime around the beginning of middle school we just sorta feel out, and we didn't do things together anymore. I missed him for a little while but I had plenty of other friends to get along with so it really didn't bother me much.
I stood against the wall, staring over at the two of them for what seemed like forever. I know that sounds like I'm some kind of creeper or something, just some guy leaning against a wall staring into space, not weird at all right! Anyway, I tried not to look like I was looking at something specific, and I'm not sure I was succeeding, but I did manage to avoid eye contact with him during that period, so it was a sort of accomplishment for me.
I couldn't decide whether or not I wanted to go over there and introduce my self, or reintroduce, I'm not really sure which one it would be. Would he even remember me? And how would it look if he didn't recognize me, I'm mean it would be really weird to say the least. Maybe I should just like stay away from him and let him remember me, that would probably be less strange. Yeah, thats a good idea.
Or I could go see if anyone else around noticed him and then I could take it from there. Yeah, thats an even better idea.
I was going to start walking around, I swear I was, but just as I was thinking of who might best remember Dylan, I looked back over there and found myself looking right into his eyes. I froze, I don't know why, and it freaked me out, but I could not bring myself look away from those incredibly dark blue eyes. His skin flushed a soft pink color right as he diverted his eyes from my own, and I realized that he was blushing. I couldn't figure out why he would do that, and before I could even think about it I heard my name being called from across the room.
"Jason, man there you are, I've been looking all over the fuckin' place for ya!" My best friend Shawn yelled from the other side of the room. We're both on the football team, he's a linebacker in case you're wondering, and we've been best friends for like six years, or somewhere around there. He can be a little obnoxious, but I've learn to over look things because he is my friend.
I pounded his out stretched hand, and we did one of those things were somebody brings their body close to yours and then you sort of give them a pat on the back with your other hand. I'm sure you know what I am talking about, I just don't remember what they're called, or if they are even called anything for that matter. Do you know? Ahh, whatever, like it even matters right, anyway, back the scene.
"Hey bro. What's up?" I asked, I really couldn't care less, he was distracting me from my goal of finding out what Dylan was doing back.
Shawn didn't answer me, instead he looked around the room, his head finally coming to a stop right where mine was the moment that he walked up to me, to where Dylan and his unknown friend were standing. I saw his eyes widen, but they seemed to be a little out of focus. Big surprise right? A group of people at a party with no adults, right before the start of senior year, and some members of the football team are drunk! No way. I thought stuff like that only happens in the movies.
"Holy shit dude. Jason, man, is that, like the kid we used to pick on all the time? Jeezus, I never thought we see him again. I thought we got rid of him, but I guess the little fag's up to some more," said Shawn, mimicking punching motions with his hands.
"What the hell are you talking Ôbout dude?" I said quickly, there was no possible way in hell that I would let him know that I was standing here against the wall just staring at Dylan for like five minutes or something. Can you say social suicide? Or maybe it might be homicide, because somebody would definitely end up killing me. "How many beers you have anyway, cause something must be affecting your brain."
"I only had one, Shelby gave it to me, and ya know as well as I do that you don't turn away nothin' that Shelby is giving out." He let out a snort and gave me a sort of lop sided high five, which I returned with a big grin on my face. If he did only have one beer, it must surely have been spiked with something, and if Shelby Johnson gave it to him, nine out of ten chances say that it probably was. I swear if there was ever a slut, she was it. Anyone who ever put on a varsity jacket suddenly found themselves the object of affection from Shelby, and even though most people at West hated her, it didn't stop her from being the right of passage to the freshman members of athletic teams. I know a tangent, but you should know the drill by now.
"And I told ya, him over their talking to that hot chick with the black hair." Said Shawn, pointing dramatically over towards the two of them. "What's a chick like her want with him I got no idea, probably wants him to fix her hair or makeup," finished Shawn, laughing at his own joke.
I had no idea in hell how Shawn remembered who Dylan was. He was never one of sharpest tools in the shed, but he is one hell of a good football player, and hey isn't that like the only thing that matters? But I guess when you pick on somebody for several years it might be kinda hard to forget them, not that he was showing any remorse for his actions, rather it seemed he wanted to continue where he left off.
"Hey you faggot!" Shawn yelled across the room toward Dylan. This immediately caused a hush silence over the room so that only the blaring beat of "What Hurts the Most" could be heard. And of course it only took about five seconds for the music to come to an abrupt stop while the people in the room moved off towards the sides, looking around for the source of the commotion, leaving an empty path between Dylan, his friend and Shawn and me.
I could not believe Shawn, I really didn't want to put Dylan in this kind of situation again, but there was nothing I could do to stop Shawn, so I just had to play along for the sake of keeping face with all my other friends.
I don't think I have ever seen someone's face lose color faster than Dylan's did right as Shawn yelled across to him. He quickly backed into the wall, which was only a few steps behind him, looking absolutely petrified. Shawn started walking slowly down the opening of people, I didn't follow him, but stayed glued to the ground, staring at the scene in front of me, to scared to follow any coarse of action. I couldn't stand up for Dylan, there was no way I could handle being known as person who was friends with someone labeled as a Ôfag,' which would mean me being named a fag too. Cruel, but this is high school, social survival is your most basic instinct. But at the same time I didn't follow Shawn, I had felt something for Dylan the moment our eyes met. Sympathy maybe, or some kind of guilt for the hell that my friends and I put him through for years, I don't know, but something made me stay behind.
"Faggot!" Shawn shouted again, "You should answer people when they're talking to you." Shawn sped up during the final few steps to where Dylan stood, grabbed Dylan by his collar and lifted him so they where face to face, pressing Dylan's back into the wall. Dylan's face was ghostly white as he feebly tried to struggle free from Shawn's gasp, but as Shawn was at least six inches taller than him, and about seventy pounds heavier, Dylan's attempts were completely futile, he was at the complete mercy of Shawn.
"I'd thought you had learned your lesson about coming around here again fagboy, but it looks like I was wrong, and I don't like being wrong, you filthy piece of shit!" screamed Shawn as he lifted Dylan away from the wall before slamming him into it again and allowing him to fall to the ground.
"Wha' ze Ôell are you doing?" The girl that Dylan was with suddenly shrieked, her voice ladened with a deep French accent. It seemed like she was in shock when Shawn first went for Dylan, but when he hit the ground, she threw herself in between him and Shawn. "Wha' Ôas he ever done to you?"
"He's been a disgusting little faggot, and it seems like its up to me to teach this little cocksucker what a real man is," said Shawn, side stepping the girl and aiming a kick right into Dylan's stomach, making Dylan groan in pain.
I looked at Dylan, and I don't think I've ever seen anyone as--as broken as Dylan was. His arm was wrapped around his upper stomach, Shawn's kick landed somewhere right under Dylan's ribcage. He was struggling to get up off up the ground, his breathing was heavy, but he kept almost getting there, but then he would slip and fall back to the ground.
"Aww, what's the matter little baby? Cant get off the ground?" ridiculed Shawn. I could tell he was getting ready to land another kick on Dylan, and as he was winding his leg back, I felt a jolt of energy flow through me. I wanted to run up there and deck Shawn and just start wailing on him. But I couldn't. I had know idea where those feelings came from, they were so powerful and overwhelming yet they seemed so natural--like my basic instinct. That was the part that was scaring me the most, how could I not know where feelings that felt so instinctive and intuitive come from? I wanted to protect Dylan, keep him safe from the pain and torment that I knew he must be going through. But how did I know how he must have felt in that moment? This was a person that I have not seen nor heard from for three years, but somehow, for some unknown reason I felt connected to him. More connected than I have ever felt for anyone else, someone who, with only a few seconds of eye contact, seemed to be able to reach the depths of my soul.
But yet I stood there, watching Shawn winding back his left leg and making another connection to Dylan's stomach. "Come on you little cocksucker! Can't even fight back a little bit, you stupid piece of shit! God what a fuckin' waste of space," Shawn yelled. After the second kick Shawn bent back down and grabbed Dylan's shirt, pulling him up before pushing him back into the wall. Dylan slid about halfway to the ground, before coming to a stop. He feebly tried to boost himself away from the wall, but Shawn was too quick for him, in a matter of seconds Shawn raised his fist and slammed it into the side of Dylan's face, which caused Dylan lose the little balance he had left, and topple to the floor.
The girl that Dylan came with seemed to decide that enough was enough, and with more courage than most, she again stepped in between Dylan and his tormentor.
"I told you to leave Ôim alone," she said with a look that gave justice to "hell hath no furry like a woman scorned."
Shawn inched closer to the young women. He towered over her shorter stature, she looked to me to be somewhere in between 5'3'' and 5'5'' but instead of talking to her, he spoke over her shoulder to Dylan. "What you gotta get you little fag hag here to protect you? God, your even more pathetic than I thought!"
But Shawn's main focus did not seem to be on beating up Dylan anymore. After all he had a beautiful French girl standing right in front of him, what would you do? But it didn't seem to Shawn that this girl might not be interested in him, like I said before, never one of the sharpest tools in the shed. Shawn reached forward and put his right arm around her shoulders while his left one reached down and he pulled her close to him.
"Come on with me baby, I bet I can show you a much better time than that little faggot down there could," said Shawn, bringing his face down toward her own, but the girl gave an almighty heave and shoved Shawn several feet backwards.
"My name is Renee, not baby, you fucking jackass." I was shocked to hear those words come out of her mouth. I could tell she had a very heavy French accent, I figured she probably lives in France and only speaks English as like a second language or somethin' (wouldn't it be so cool if that actually turns out to be true...just like magic), and I don't know, it just didn't seem like those words could be in her English vocabulary, maybe French but definitely not English. But I really shouldn't be that discriminating, she could be a cocaine taking cereal killer who cuts her victims in tiny pieces for easy disposal...you never know.
Renee slapped him in the face so hard that the sound could be heard all around the room. Shawn's hand instantly went up to the area where she slapped him, and he was wearing a face of total disbelief. It was probably the first time that anyone ever really stood up to Shawn and completely rejected him. Now don't get me wrong, plenty of girls have rejected him, I've seen quite a few myself, but he usually takes it in his stride, after all the whole school knows the kind of person he is, doing it mainly as a way to get attention, but I don't think any of the others has ever slapped him.
Following the slap you could hear a pin fall in a carpeted room two hundred miles away. I've never heard such an icy silence before, no one was moving, I don't think they were actually breathing. Shawn and Renee stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other with eyes as cold as ice, Shawn with his hand still pressed firmly against his check, Renee standing very still, like a tiger waiting for its pray to make a move. The room seemed to be waiting for something to happen, no one knew what Shawn was going to do, was he going to go to the new girl again, or back to Dylan, or was he just going to walk away. Nobody seemed to know, and I didn't either for that matter.
Renee seemed to make up her mind though, she turned her back to Shawn, making her long black hair swish behind her as she moved over to Dylan, who succeeded in getting up and was leaning on a wall for support.
She muttered something to him, I couldn't make it out, and he nodded. One of Dylan's hands was still wrapped around his upper stomach, but he moved his other one around the waist of Renee, while she grabbed him up by his shoulders and helped move him slowly towards the door. When they went by Shawn, still gawking like an idiot in the center of the room, I thought for a moment that Renee was going to tackle him as she wore an expression of the utmost contempt and hatred, but she seemed to think better of it and continued to help Dylan out of the room.
I looked away from Shawn and the girl and my eyes focused on Dylan's face. He had his eyes focused on the floor in front of him, while his cheeks burned from the embarrassment of the situation. I felt so sorry for him, so terribly guilty for everything, I could have put a stop to it, but I didn't. I was rooted to the spot, watching Shawn torment him, too cowardly to stop the situation. I felt like a piece of crap, but that horrible feeling still could not get me to go over there and help them as they made their way out the door. That fear gripped me like nothing else ever had before, I was terrified of it.
They left the room and then the house just a minute later, and about three seconds after we heard the front door slam shut the music was back on and everybody went back to whatever the hell they were doing before that evenings entertainment. I felt sick to my stomach, I didn't want to hang around anymore, so when Shawn came back over to me and mumbled that he was off to get another beer and find Shelby, I took the opportunity to get the hell out of the house.
It was late when I left the party but as it was still August, it was really warm out and I started walking down the sidewalk towards my neighborhood, guilty thoughts flooding my mind. I tried to push them back out, but they would not leave me alone. I sped up and soon found myself running down the street, I have no idea what I was thinking during that time, I just keep running and running until I nearly missed my house. I stood at the base of the driveway staring up at the moderately sized building, hoping, praying that it would allow me to be the person I always thought I should be.
To be continued.