Date: Sun, 21 May 2000 23:50:47 EDT From: SLK2308888@aol.com Subject: I Wanna Be With You Chapter One General Announcements~ Hey there everyone, this isn't my first story but the first one I've posted on the College Section. Actually if any of you read in the Boy-band section, you might have seen this story before. I decided to modify it and change the story line, but I will continue the other story as well. I know it's kind of confusing but basically it will be written in the same character perspective but different love interests and plots. This story is entirely fictional, the characters represented in the story are merely fictitious ones, who have been influenced by people that I know or experiences I've had. If you're under 18 or 21 in some states, you shouldn't be here (SCRAM before I tell your mommy! lol) If your 18 and older (cute and funny, email me! lol) go ahead and read! Enjoy the story! Any questions/comment/suggestions can be sent to: SLK2308888@aol.com with the subject heading of ~I Wanna Be With You~. Stick a fork in me. . . Cause I am DONE! = )~ I Wanna Be With You By Rick Chapter One: Center Stage So here I was waiting in line for some chick flick, forced upon me by my blind date. "I'm going to kill her!" I thought to myself about my best friend, who thought it would be `cute' to hook me up with some Barbie doll wannabe. I mean really, the chick was wearing some tight ass sweater with a pair of those fringed jeans that are the current `in' thing. Don't ask me how I know these things, I've been a mama's boy all my life and consider: the mall my second home, Vogue as my bible and Giorgio Armani as my personal savior and grace. Trust me, all those years of careful grooming has gotten me a kick ass wardrobe that would be the envy of all the guys in my school, along with some chicks. Anyway, going back to the date in hand, my best friend Jessica, a major hottie in her own right, apparently thought I would have a lot in common with Tracy. From what I've seen so far, the only thing I have in common with this walking and talking Barbie is that: One, we're both human (I'll have to contest that later on). Two, she breaths and talks (The latter a task she does VERY well!). Three . . . She eats (I saw her take a couple of bites of her salad, hold the dressing, before declaring she was `stuffed'. Hopefully she didn't throw it up when she excused herself to go to the bathroom). Just because I'm into my looks doesn't mean I'm some dumb nitwit just looking for a quick score with a pretty face. There's got to be more behind the mask of MAC, Clinique, and Maybeline to really get my interests piqued. So, besides having the impression that I'm some arrogant jerk looking for the perfect chick, I guess you want to know what I look like huh? Ya, who's the hypocrite now? Basically turn the pages of an Abercombie and Fitch or Guess catalogue and you can kind of guess what I look like. Thank god my dad's side of the family are some tall people cause I would have been one of those small little guys my friends would dump into trash cans when we were in high school. I'm not really into muscles, preferring a lithe swimmer's build. I have blonde hair (natural, I swear!) that I keep really short and tight at the sides. I spent my last summer, before heading off to college, as a lifeguard down at Newport so I still have remnants of a tan. All in all, I would have to say I'm pretty lucky in the looks department, I know I'm sounding arrogant again aren't I? Sorry, just one of the MANY quirks I have. Along with being cute, handsome, hot, or whatever else you want to describe me, I'm one hell of a smart guy. I've been in GATE, Honors, and AP classes all my life and was the Valedictorian of my graduating class. People have some messed up perceptions of you just because you look good. I mean they totally believe I'm some surfer "dude" who smokes out and just hangs around the beach all day, when in actuality I probably did better than them on the SAT's (1560 baby!) and could probably beat them both physically AND mentally. As a result of all the "nerd" jokes I was a butt of in elementary school, I got this really bad sarcastic attitude. I'm talking low down dirty dog kind of tactics; I can basically make you look like the big fool that you are if you try to mess with me or my friends. Sarcasm albeit a good tool, is such a double edged sword. It's gotten me a bad rep of being this mean SOB, but when you really get to know me I'm such a cool person (no really! Ask my friends, I'm a good guy). I'm just the kind of person who doesn't get too close unless I know you really well. I mean when you got the looks and the brains, people tend to swarm around you just so they can boost their popularity. Let me tell ya, High School was a real joke! What a bunch of fakers vying for Homecoming King and Queen, when no one's going to care five years from now. I swear I didn't want the crown and would have declined had I gotten the choice or cared enough to do so. Big deal, like I'm going to put down Homecoming and Prom King in my list of achievements in life. What are they going to do? Put that down on my tombstone? Patrick Sean Peterson 1980-2000 R.I.P. "1999 AHS Prom King" If I hadn't met Jessica during freshman year, I think I probably would have turned out to be one of those tormented souls wearing all black and writing poetry in a journal all day. She was my first real life crush and we went out a couple of times before realizing we had no business trying to hook up and ruining a friendship that would probably last longer then most marriages. So my teenage angst was kind of shuffled underneath pep rallies and gatherings Jess took me to. Ya I know, total phony in a crowd of wannabes but hey, better to be a cool wannabe than a useless one with no friends. Besides once you get to know them, the so called "in crowd" are just like everyone else. If you prick us, do we not bleed? Even in the cool crowd, there's another social hierarchy of who's cooler then who. Pretty soon, the mystique of it all became so irrelevant to me that I kind of caused a splintering. All the really cool peeps that were tired of all the bullshit that it had become came with me, while the cheerleaders tried in vain to corral their boyfriends into staying with the original group. Needless to say my group became the shit (this means something good for those of you too old or too weird to not understand the lingo) while the other group fell to pieces and became the laughing stock of the school. So now here I am, at UCLA with most of my friends, who got in on athletic scholarships, but are more content to sticking with the original group rather then trying to climb even more social ladders of sororities and fraternities. We just go to the parties for the booze and the chicks, but you'd have better luck kissing our asses before getting us to pledge by humiliating ourselves in some stupid rituals. * * * * * * * * * * OK so now you're probably wondering why the hell this is even in the Nifty GAY Stories Category, even better, why is this in the College section? Good question, and trust me, just because I'm not some sappy love-struck writer who romanticizes about some fairy tale romance where I have a perfect life and the perfect relationship doesn't make this story any better or worse. Perhaps I'm going to spoil the surprise, but . . . OH WELL! This is my story of how a chance meeting changed my life. How I find my other half and fall head over heals in love. It'll probably have its ups and downs, good times and bad, but love is like that. Buckle up and enjoy the ride of your life because no matter how scary it can be, it'll always be the best time of your life. Now I don't really know how it'll end, I said I was smart, NOT a mind reader. For those of you who can't connect two and two together, I'm going to meet someone . . . OK a GUY . . . but I'm getting ahead of myself. * * * * * * * * * * So back to the line for the movies, I really wanted to see Gladiator, but apparently Tracy wasn't into gore and mayhem and believed that, "Fighting is just like Bad!" I told you, she's not running for the Nobel Prize anytime soon. Being the gentleman I am, I got us tickets for Center Stage (now you see the correlation with the title of the story? Good Job!) I saw the previews for the flick, pretty much looked like a wannabe ballerina version of "Fame" but the lead chick seemed pretty cute so what the heck. Stacy, Tracy, Macy or whatever the hell her name is, wants something to drink (surprise, surprise, Caffeine Free Diet Coke). Damn it! Make me spend my hard-earned money when I don't even want anything from her . . . besides silence. "A large Cherry Coke and a Diet, easy on the ice and a box of Red Vines," I tell the pimply faced kid behind the counter. This IS the movies; you've GOT to have some Red Vines! And not that yucky Twizler kind, I'm talking about your chewy, cherry Red Vines that you can bite both ends and make a straw out of. I collect my change and the snacks and turn around to look for my date. "Where the hell did the dumb broad go?" I think to myself impatiently. "Guess who?" she giggles behind me as she closes my eyes with her cold ass hands. "Gee, I wonder who it could be . . ." I say coyly, playing along with her stupidly childish games. I may be an arrogant sarcastic bastard but my mom didn't raise a rude, impolite brat. No matter how much of a ditz she is, I hold my tongue. "Come on Rick! The movies almost starting," she chirps (FYI, Rick is my nickname. To make a long story . . . longer, I hated being called Pat after that parody from SNL, so they started calling me Rick instead and it stuck). She places her arm around mine as if I was taken or something! WHATEVER! I don't have time to teach her the fine etiquette of touching, hand holding, and kissing on a date. "Let's sit in the back," she whispers when we enter the already darkened theater. Great! I hope she's not thinking I'm going to suck face with her! Not only is this our first date, but I think I would probably enjoy kissing my mother more so then her (Oedipus Complex sans the killing my dad part, for those of you who actually know your mythology). She drags me up the flight of stairs to the very back row of seats. What a surprise, the room is filled with girls who undoubtedly dragged their dates to watch this movie. We settle in and the movie starts up pretty soon. It's actually not that bad, I kind of wanted to try ballet as a kid but fear of humiliation from my male counterparts at school quickly squashed that notion. The blonde girl in the movie was really cute, as well as most of the other girls. The lead guy had some great moves and had a decent build. Look-wise he was kind of a pretty boy but decent. Now don't go around criticizing me for looking at guys. You know all of us do it. Not that it was in a sexual way but you gotta keep up with your competition right? Plus he had some really nice clothes during some parts. I wonder where he got those . . .. Anyway, halfway through the movie I noticed almost all the couples were doing what they do best in dark secluded theaters. I mean I have a pretty high sexual libido myself but jeez! Why waste something as sacred as your virginity on someone who you wouldn't call the next morning? Sorry for preaching, but I totally believe in that waiting until marriage concept. Funny thing about it is that neither my parents or church had anything to do with my decisions. Call me a romantic (yes, sarcastic people can be romantic!) but I'm just a stickler for true love, soul mates, the whole nine yards. I don't think that's too much to ask now is it? Now you people can do whatever you want to do with your life, but don't try rushing me into having sex anytime soon. Besides, when you look better then all of your dates, it's kind of hard to find interest in them. I mean, what would they have to bring into the relationship? I told you I was arrogant son of a bitch didn't I? Goodness, the girl is getting clingy now! She's grasping at my arm like we were watching some scary movie or something. Ya, what's the worst that could happen in this flick, someone's leotard falling? Hmmm . . .. That's not such a bad premise. "What the hell is she trying to do?" I question myself as she blows hot air into my ear. Like that is really going to get me hot. "Oh baby blow your stank breath on me!" Her hands are all up on me now; pretty soon I'm going to have to tell her off if she doesn't stop. Her hands seem to migrate their way downward from my pecs, down my abs, and on to . . .. "Stop it!" I hiss at her, grabbing both her hands before they reached my groin. Her eyes widen with a mixture of shock and humiliation. I can tell she's fighting off bawling and I immediately regret my actions. I told you I was a nice guy, I'm just not one for being touched without my permission. "I'm sorry . . . you were just making me really uncomfortable," I mumble my apology. "Go to hell!" she suddenly yells, causing everyone to crane their necks at the ruckus she caused. She abruptly stood up and stomped off in a hissy fit like the little baby she was. Thank god the theater is dark because I'm blushing like nobody's business. I catch a few stares from my fellow theater patrons. I make eye contact with some of the guys. I can see their compassion in their eyes. They feel for me, they know how some girls can be. See, men have this secret bond between us that transcends notions of masculinity and machismo. There are just some things you, as a man can not do. One, Thou shalt not covet thy friends chick, basically never go after your boy's girl. (MAJOR no no!). Two, Thou shalt not forget to root for thy team (Go Lakers!). Three, Thou shalt not forget rules one and two. See! We're a simple lot. Doesn't take much to please us but break some of those rules and boy are you in for some major shit! Well I could leave the theater now, tail between my legs and concede defeat, but to hell with that! I stay put and casually sip my cherry coke. I look toward my left and see two guys sitting together. I study them briefly; they don't seem to be together, well in the sense that they are not TOGETHER together. Hey UCLA is just a hop, skip and a jump away from West Hollywood; you tend to hone your gaydar pretty well. I have a lot of gay friends and I know they'd love to get into my pants, too bad I'm straight. The one closest to me suddenly turns in my direction and smiles at me. I smile back acknowledging his consolatory gesture (I told you, guys stick together). He's got a nice smile and some really REALLY good clothes! Damn, I'd kill for the shoes he's got on! He's got the rugged good looks of an actor or model, but not with the arrogance that comes along with those professions. His companion leans forward and gives that "my god what a bitch!" eye roll and shake of the head, causing me to laugh a little too loudly. Some people look back again, the girls with eyes of piercing daggers, no doubt thinking I had put the moves on that chick. PLEASE! I wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole (remind me to kill my best friend later on). The ending of the movie was kind of blase and very predictable, but overall it was somewhat enjoyable. I'm usually not one for sitting around for the credits but the song they played had me riveted to my seat. "I try but I can't seem to let myself to think of anything but you Your breath on my face Your warm gentle kiss I taste the truth I taste the truth Your what I came here for So, I won't ask for more I wanna be with you If only for one night To be the one who's in your arms to hold you tight I wanna be with you There's nothing more to say There's nothing else I want more than to feel this way I wanna be with you So, I hold tonight like I would if you were mine To hold forever more and I'll savor the touch that I wanted So much to feel before To feel before How beautiful it is Just to be like this I wanna be with you If only for one night To be the one who's in your arms to hold you tight I wanna be with you There's nothing more to say There's nothing else I want more than to feel this way I wanna be with you Oh, baby I can't fight this feeling anymore Drives me crazy when I try to So, call my name Take my hand Can you make my wish Baby, your command I wanna be with you If only for one night I'll be the one who's in your arms to hold you tight I wanna be with you There's nothing more to say There's nothing else I want more than to feel this way I wanna be with you I wanna be with you . . .." For one dizzying second, the world seemed to stop revolving as I listened to this young girl sing her heart out. It was such an emotional rush; I was floored for some reason by the simple song. "You okay?" a voice questioned me. "Ya, I guess I'm just an emotional nut," I sniffled, feeling like a such a retard for crying. "I take it you like the song?" he questioned. "I guess so," I chuckled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "I'm sorry, did you and your friend want to get through?" I questioned him after a moment of silence. "No, we're good," he mumbles. He just stands there, smiling down at me. What the hell does he want? Two can play this game bub! If you want to stare at me I'm going to stare at you right back! "Nice body, pretty darn handsome," I think to myself (not that I wanted any action from this guy, just checking him out). Our eyes lock. His eyes, I would say, are definitely his best asset. An amazing pool of brown that you could just drown in, they sparkle with an intensity I've never seen in a person before. Against my better judgment, I find myself smiling back at this complete stranger. "My name's Rick, short for Patrick," I finally introduce myself. He raises and eyebrow in that "what the hell are you smoking" kind of look. "It's a long story," I add. He smirks at me, undoubtedly intrigued enough to care. "The name's Jase . . ." he states after another moment of silence, "short for Jase," he adds with a bit of sarcasm . He slowly moves his hand toward me. I move to intercept his hand with mine. Our hands touch, sending waves of electricity to shoot through my body. "Jase, you ready to go?" his friend asks him. "Uhhh . . . ya," he calls out, still maintaining eye contact with me. "It was nice meeting you," he whispers. "Ya . . . it was nice meeting you too," I reply. I could feel myself actually getting flushed and my stomach was doing that weird tingly feeling. "Yo, Jase come on Dude! Come on!" his young friend yells impatiently, already at the foot of the stairs. "I'm coming!" this Jase character yells down angrily, before turning around to face me once more. "I'm sorry," he states apologetically. "My friend wants to go get something to eat. It was really nice talking to you. I hope we meet again sometime," he stated. "That would be cool," I reply excitedly (What's going on here?) "Cool," he replies. "Cool," I repeat (What am I a parrot?) "I better get going," he says, passing by me. As he does, I catch a faint whiff of his cologne. I'm not sure what it is, but it's citrus with just the hint of jasmine and rose. Whatever it is, it sure smells good. He reaches the bottom of the stairs where he and his friend have a heated conversation. I think it's about me because occasionally one or the other would cast a glance up at me. Apparently they finish their conversation in a hurry and Jase quickly waves goodbye to me as his friend makes it out the exit. For some reason, I just sit there and begin smiling again. It's kind of hard to describe what I was feeling, but it's kind of like swimming in the ocean and the water's really cold, when suddenly you enter a patch of warmth. It engulfs you into this tranquil euphoric state where everything is so still that you can actually hear your heart beating with life. Whoever this guy was, I sure wanted to know more about him . . .. To Be Continued???? Well, I think I should leave it at here for now. I hope you guys enjoyed it. Tell me what ya think at SLK2308888@aol.com with the subject heading of ~I Wanna Be With You~. If you're interested, my other stories are in the boy-band section (hey don't laugh some of those guys are really cute! lol) I currently have three there: The One, This I Promise You and the boy-band version of this story under the same title I Wanna Be With You.