Date: Thu, 08 Jul 2004 23:26:34 +0000
From: Blake Hotchin <american_english_the_story@hotmail.com>
Subject: American English Part 4

Disclaimer: This story is in no way a suggestion of the
sexuality of the characters involved. Harry Potter is
the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I am
in no way connected to the cast of the Harry Potter
movies and/or Matchbox 20. This story contains a
FICTIONAL character from Matchbox 20, and involves
a homosexual relationship. If this is in any way illegal
where you live, or if you are underage, please do not
continue reading.


***************


American English
Part IV
Solo


Stepping out of my aunt's front door into the blistering
rain, I pulled my jacket tightly around me. The wind was
bitter and the air smelled wet and wild. Setting out down
the street, I hailed a taxi and climbed in. The warm cab
was pleasant after the chilly outdoors, even if it stank
of cigarettes and alcohol. Asking the driver to put his
foot down, I checked my watch. Dead. Typical. Pulling out
my mobile 'phone, I took it off and put it in my pocket.
7.13pm. Late. Damn. I slipped it back into the inside pocket
of my very retro, very funky, vintage blazer and zipped my
jacket closed. Rubbing my hands against my jeans, I felt the
vibrations across my chest, and quickly opened my jacket,
reaching inside my blazer. Text message.

*Hey Olly, cool u cd cum, cd yer stop n grab a vid or
sumfink? Oh n btw, Dan, Em n Rupert wndrd if yer wntd 2 stp
ova? S'cool if yer cant bt id like yer 2 too. C yer soon, Tom*

After deciphering his wierd text language, I sent my aunt
a message to say that I would be home early the next day,
and asked the driver to go to the nearest video store. I
replayed the message in my head. I just got to the part
about the video when I realised how unbelievably pathetic I
was being and replied, saying that it was all cool and did
they want 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets' (which
I thought was a pretty good joke) or should I pick something
else?

Standing in the video store, I had no idea what I should
choose. My hand kept wandering over towards a few films I
had really enjoyed in the past, but I preferred the idea of
something I hadn't seen. Grabbing a few DVD's I walked up to
the counter and handed over a ten pound note. Looking out at
the rain I thought about the night ahead. Realising that, once
again, I had stupidly acted on impulse, had no clothes, no
toothbrush, no PJs and no way of doing my hair in the morning.
Once again, damn. Sending Tom a text as I walked out of the
store, I asked the taxi driver to turn back to my aunt's house.
Muttering he turned back. Why, I don't know, it was extra fare
for him.

My aunt made a snide comment as I ran in through the door. I
didn't listen and bolted upstairs to grab some clothes. Seeing
my guitar, I grabbed it and raced back to the taxi waiting
outside. I jumped in and glanced at my 'phone in my hand.
7.36pm. I could make it by quarter to eight if the driver
rushed. I suggested that he did so. He did.

13 minutes later I stepped out of the cab with my guitar in one
hand, my backpack on my back and my jacket over my guitar case,
and, running up the steps at Claridge's, feeling the water soak
into my sneakers. That was going to be unpleasant later on.
Thank God I'd grabbed my other pair before I'd run out the door.
I looked like a tramp with my hair soaked and my trousers dirty
around the bottom from the water they had soaked up. I stood in
the foyer, dripping, making an interesting puddle on the floor,
and gazing idly into space, when a rather rude bell boy asked me
if I was in the right place. I turned and mentioned to him that
perhaps his rather silly cap would be of more use as a sling than
a uniform, and he half-ran, half-walked back to his position by
the door. I slowly trudged up to the desk, and, ladled with bags,
asked the receptionist to direct me to Daniel, Rupert, Emma and
Tom's rooms. She kindly declined before I noticed them through
the large glass doors on the left, which led to the restaurant.
Smirking at the receptionist, I pushed through the doors, and
walked up. Emma noticed me first.

"Oh my god! Olly! You're so... wet!" she mused.
"Yeah, great, I know!" I joked. I turned to Tom and he smiled.
"Well, we had planned to have a drink, but..." he looked at me
in my sodden trousers, "I think you had better get changed!"
*Brilliant* I thought sarcastically as I followed them up the
stairs. Emma told me that they had a table booked for 8.30pm,
and I had that thirty minutes to change. Tom led me to his room,
and I dumped my stuff on the floor.
"Mine's the only room with two beds," he explained, "so we're
all going to stop in here."
"Cool," I replied, and took off my sodden shoes.

Rooting through the bag that I had brought, I threw the bag of
DVD's at Tom. He remarked that they were cool, he hadn't seen
half of them, and that I had the same taste in movies as he did.
*Great* I thought *But if you don't leave now, you're going to
see me half-naked!*
He didn't budge.
*Go on, go!* I thought* I need to get changed! God, I'm so
embarrassed! Why is he making me do this?! All I want is to get
changed in private!*
Pulling a new pair of trousers and a top from the bag, I thought
to myself, *Perhaps I shouldn't care, and be cool about it. He's
not interested.* I attempted to console myself. *He isn't even
gay...*
With that I unbuttoned my cool vintage blazer, corduroy, with
cool patches that appropriate rock slogans scrawled on them.
Slowly pulling my yellow T-shirt over my head, I revealed my
fairly well sculpted torso. Quite pale, but well-defined, and
definitely not as scrawny as I was, I unbuttoned my trousers and
let the offending wet material drop. The wet denim had ruined my
socks, so I dutifully pulled them off, leaving me in just my
black boxers, which had somehow managed to get wet too. And of
course, pride of place, the very embarrassing strain beneath the
soft cotton of my shorts. I quickly pulled on a new pair of
trousers, and the fresh top, and dried my hair off with a towel,
then blow dried it. Running some gel through my persistent mop,
I dropped the drier, and walked over to Tom. Telling him I was
ready, I pulled on a new pair of sneakers, and we walked to the
rooms where the others were. Funny, but I could have sworn I'd
felt him watch me as I got changed. Paranoia I guess...

Walking down the stairs, I felt eyes turn to me and my friends.
I slowly walked through the double glass doors to the restaurant.
Sitting, I noticed that people were watching us. Sometimes I didn't
enjoy being centre of attention. At this moment in time I wasn't
in the best of moods to be the one everyone was looking at.

* * *

An hour later, and my belt straining, we made our way back to the
hotel room. The DVDs I had chosen were a big hit, and the mini-bar
was full enough to feed (and water) an army.

Soon, Emma was falling asleep. Yawning she made her way to the
door and said her good nights. Rupert soon followed. Snuggled in
blankets, the three of us left watched the end of the film, then
Daniel too left for bed. Glancing at the clock I noticed it was
nearly 2am. Stifling a yawn, I went to the DVD player to change
the disc.

"Leave it," said Tom, "let's just chat for a while."
"OK, cool," I replied. My hand dropped from the DVD controls, and
I re-buried myself under the amassed duvets and pillows that were
piled on the floor of the suite. Warm and cosy against the storm
outside, I dipped my hand into the bowl of chips that were nestled
in the duvet in front of me. Crunching away, Tom asked me about
America, about my home, and about what I did when I got a break.
I told him about our beautiful sprawling country estate in New
England and he looked amazed as I told him about New York, the
Niagara Falls, the Grand Canyon and other places. I told him the
usual likes and dislikes, my guitar, my piano, my drums, films,
books, ice skating, roller blading, hockey as my likes, bad smells,
angry people and annoying old women who think they know everything
as my dislikes. I asked him the same, and after a while found
myself slipping into sleep. My lids were heavy, my shoulders sagged
and I soon felt my ears closing out the sound of Tom's mellow
voice. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Tom's. I opened my eyes.
His face, just mere inches from mine, was looking at me deeply.
He pulled back quickly and muttered something about 'wondering
if I was asleep'. I smiled at him and rolled over.

* * *

I awoke to a large clap of thunder. Light sleeper. And the rain
crashing against the windows didn't help. This heavy weight on
my side wasn't helping me sleep either, and the solidness I
was leant against was slowly moving back and forth. I suddenly
realised. I was snuggled into the duvet too far. I had backed
into Tom's arms. I shivered as I felt him sigh and his lips
brush the back of my neck. The warm air tickled my spine and
made me tingle. Wriggling from his grasp, I felt his arm tighten
as I wrestled free. Staggering back as I stood, I saw him, laid
snuggled into the duvets and blankets, warm and cosy. The dark,
stormy sky briefly lit the room with a sharp jab of lightning,
followed by a tremendous thunder roll. It made me jump. Laid on
the edge of the hollow I had created, Tom shifted position and
shivered. I slowly crawled back to where I had been, and, in a
bit of a dream, laid back down again. I wasn't sure why. Or
whether I should. I didn't think. I felt Tom's breath against
my back again, and sighed. Soon the mingled weight of Tom's arm
and my eyelids pulled me back into sleep.

* * *

I woke again, but this time to a cold empty space behind me. I
turned slowly, feigning sleep, and peered over the pillow. Tom
was sat on the edge of the bed, looking at me sleepily, smiling,
and half-naked. He had discarded his top, and I could see the
pale, defined lines of his abdomen and chest forming tight, compact
and beautifully toned muscles. His wonderful stomach had a slight,
pale blonde treasure trail running beneath his trousers, and his
hand rested just above his belly button. I closed my eyes, rolled
back over and smiled to myself. Feeling him behind me, I innocently
moved back slightly, rubbing against his groin. He flinched. I did
it again, presumably just repositioning myself. Then I pushed my
neck back towards his beautiful mouth, and he nuzzled the back of
my neck. I reached backward, and put my arm around him, letting
him know I wanted him to. He slowly and gently kissed the back of
my neck, and I sighed. Moving his hands down my body, he gently
licked my spinal chord with his tongue, rubbing it softly enough
so that it tingled. His hands reached the bottom hem of my t-shirt,
and he hesitated. I put my hand on his and closed it around the
fabric. He gently moved downwards, and kissed the base of my spine,
slowly working his way up my muscular back as he removed my shirt.

My spine was on fire, and my hands felt numb as he caressed me and
kissed me, made me feel wanted, protected, loved. I knew him as
a friend, and I never saw it coming, but as he massaged my muscles,
I felt the friendship, the relationship, grow bolder and more solid.
I wasn't in love. I felt love, but he wasn't my partner. He was my
friend. Guiding me, helping me, loving me. His electric touch and
pale, soft skin, warm and silky. I could feel his pale blonde hair
trace my back as his head moved with each solitary kiss. I pulled
him tightly around me and relaxed into him, feeling the warmth from
his torso envelop my back, feel it radiate the warmth I needed.

My eyelids drooping heavily I snuggled closer into him, letting his
strong arms hold me, him whispering his thoughts into my ear, his
soft voice sending me to sleep and making me dream things untold.

* * *

To be continued...



Is it love? Is it a fling?

Is it going nowhere?

Write and let me know...

american_english_the_story@hotmail.com