The Jock
‘Time is evanescent. Memories are forever.’
Stuck in a traffic jam on the highway, in
the middle of a record-breaking heat wave, Adrian Greene has more on his
fevered mind than praying for rain and getting home. With little else to do,
his thoughts stray to a better time in his life—his youth and an adventurous
three years spent with his first boyfriend. If there’s one thing he longs for,
it’s a chance to relive it all.
Excerpt:
I avoided Tim for days afterward—the
cafeteria—anywhere I happened to see him, or hear his voice. Until we met up in
science class and I had nowhere left to run. Mr. Gilchrist wouldn’t allow
anyone to swap partners, even though I told him it was a life-or-death
situation. He just glared, pointing to the back of the classroom. I edged along
the wall, avoiding everyone’s prying stares and slumped into the chair next to
Tim, dumping my notebook on the table.
“It’s been a while,” he murmured, below the
teacher’s announcements.
I refused to answer him and took out my
pen.
“Sooner or later you’ve got to speak to
me.” Sitting erect, he flipped open the science book. “We’re partners and we’ve
got a project to do.”
He placed the book between us, and his hand
brushed mine. I flashed a timid grin at him and he smiled. Why did he have to
be attractive and the sole object of my carnal desire?
We read the next chapter in the textbook
and discussed what we’d do for the project. The time went quickly, and before
the class ended, we were putting together the fragmented pieces of our
friendship. We talked about our parents and music, and sports, not that I had
any real interest, however we did avoid the “lump under my chip bag” topic.
The bell rang.
Tim shot to his feet and slipped me a piece
of paper from his notebook. “Read it when you get home.”
“Huh?” I started to unfold it and he snatched
it from my grasp.
“Didn’t you hear me? Not here, Adrian,
okay?” He glanced about, lowering his voice. “Promise me.”
“Ah…okay.” I stuffed the paper in a rear
pocket.
“See you tomorrow!”
And with that, he was gone like a bullet,
the first out of the classroom. Guys didn’t write guys notes, not usually
anyway, so naturally he’d piqued my curiosity. Floating from the room wearing a
grin, I wove through the oncoming maze of students. Outside, my mother had
parked along the curb, across the street in the shade of a maple tree. She
waved and smiled.
“How was your day?” She started the car.
“Good!” I clicked the seat belt and then
lifted my rump to get at the note. Apprehensive, though eager, I unfolded the
lined piece of paper.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing, just a note from a friend….” I
read the first couple sentences and my cheeks flushed. Even though the majority
of Timothy’s chicken-scratch handwriting was almost impossible to decipher,
‘fondle your balls’ came across pretty clear.
She glanced at me. “It must be
something—your face is red.”
Scrunching the paper, I laughed nervously.
My groin ached with sexual arousal. “It sure is hot in here!”
“Is it?”
“Oh yeah, I’m boiling, Mom.” I fanned a
hand in front of my face while stuffing the paper back into my pocket.
“Well, turn on the air-conditioning.”
Fiddling with the knobs, I asked, “Is dad
home yet?”
“Tomorrow night, honey. Remember?”
“That’s right, ” I said cheerfully. “It’ll
be nice to see him.”
“It will be.” She kept her hands at ten and
two, never deviating. “You know, you should invite that boy over for dinner
tomorrow night.”
“Boy?”
She laughed, dithering a little over his
name. “Tim, I think. You said he’s new to the school and doesn’t have a lot of
friends yet.”
I thought about the letter and whether it
would be a wise idea. “I don’t know if he’d want to.”
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
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