Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2006 01:49:21 -0400
From: Remy <excalbre@email.com>
Subject: Physics of Infatuation Chpt. 2

	I waited for the erection to subside and opened the door, "How goes
it?"
	"Not complaining," he said walking into the kitchen, "brought some
pizza and a beer."  I couldn't help but think that this was turning into
one huge cliche.  But so be it.
	"Thanks for the food," what else could I say?
	"No problem."
	"Let's get started with the studying and see what we can do," I
said.  We sat down at the couch and pulled up the coffee table cracking
open the class book.  He looked at the doodles all over my pages and raised
his eyebrow at me.
	"Sue me, I'm an art major," I grinned back at him.
	He flipped open the box of pizza and basically swallowed a whole
piece while rummaging through his backpack for his notebooks.  I want to
say that I was a bit disturbed, but I couldn't help but smile, a little
macho maleness at its best.
	"So where should we begin?"
	"Well, I got a 20 on the last test," he popped open a beer, "would
have been a 40-something, but somebody fucked up the scale."
	I had to look away, "So everybody knows about that huh?"
	"Yeah, the little blond in class mentioned something about running
you down with her car," he said with a smirk.
	"I'm sure daddy would pay to bury the body for her."
	He flipped open his notebook, "Basically I have no idea what I'm
doing," he revealed, "I suck at math and I have no clue why we're supposed
to be doing what we're doing."
	"So basically you're clueless," he shot me a look, "I mean that in
the most innocent way possible."
	The next four hours we went over chapter-by-chapter,
problem-by-problem.  He wasn't bad at it; he just didn't understand the
logic behind what we were supposed to be doing.  I had to take everything
and somehow apply it to the everyday world so he could understand.
	The pizza vanished and he was finished with half the twenty-four
pack pretty quick as we worked our way through the book.  My head was
hurting at this point; I couldn't handle staring at this anymore, "I need a
break."
	"How the hell do you know all this," he asked.
	"I took six math classes in four years in high school and advanced
physics.  I don't know how I do it, I guess I'm one of those idiot
savants."
	"So you're a geek."
	Eye roll.  I looked at him, "If I'm a geek, that makes you the
jock?"
	"Sure," he said, "I wound up at this place because of sports.  I
was trying out for pro-football and busted my kneecap at camp.  I was
hoping it would heal up so I could play again, but it looks like education
is the way to go."
	"So you are a jock."
	It was his turn to roll his eyes, "I'm working on one degree in
computer engineering and a second in criminal justice at the moment," he
smiled as my mouth dropped, "I just don't like science."
	I grabbed the last beer and popped open while we started talking
about our histories.  I was a reformed college dropout working towards my
degree in art for who knows what.  Chaz was working towards becoming a
network security guy at some big time corporation as his alternative to the
big leagues.  He was from California and staying here with some relatives
while he finished his degree.  I couldn't help but look away as he told me
about his high school sweetheart and how they were engaged and she was
waiting for him to come back from the east coast so they could get married.
Thankfully he didn't ask me about my love life and I decided not to bother
offering up any of it.
	We continued to chat for the next hour about everything in our
lives like we were old friends.  We finally started talking about movies
and our mutual love for odd movies that made you think.
	"Want to pop something in?"  I asked.
	"Sure," he said, "Doesn't look my friends are going to call tonight
so I haven't gotten anything else going on."
	We put in a movie and I sat back on the couch and within minutes
fell asleep again.  I woke up to the sound of Chaz groaning and looked at
him sitting on the floor looking over his Physics book.  His back was too
me so I could just watch him as he did more studying.  It was cute; he
really was determined to get a decent grade in this class.  I kind of
admired his perseverance.
	"Any luck?"
	He jumped a little at the sound of my voice, "Kinda," he said, "Do
you always fall asleep in the opening credits?"
	I saw the TV was showing the ending credits to the movie, "What can
I say," I sat up, "You just take it out of me."
	I was ready to crawl back to bed and call it a night, "I think it's
time for me to crash," I said standing up.
	He gave me that look, the one that says, "You're in college, stop
being a pansy and wake the hell up."  Yeah, I'm boring, what can I say?
	"You mind if I crash here?  There's no way I'm driving home," he
said as he nodded to the nicely assorted beer bottles on the floor.
	"No wonder you can't do physics, you're drunk!"  I laughed at him.
	"It seemed like a good idea at the time," he said giving me that
killer smile.
	"Yeah, you can crash on the couch.  Just let me go get some
blankets," it wasn't that cold, but I was trying to be polite.
	I wandered into my bedroom and grabbed a blanket and some pillows
from the closet.  I couldn't help the look on my face when I walked back
into the living room and saw him dropping his jeans and talking off his
shirt.  The fantasy hadn't been too far off, light hair on his chest that
lead down to the shorts and his legs were like tree stumps.
	"Here you go."
	"Thanks," he took the blankets and sat on the couch.  I walked into
the kitchen to grab some water and when I returned I couldn't help but
laugh.  He was a couple inches taller than my 6'4" and looked ridiculous on
my futon/couch.
	"Man, this is hysterical, and I'm usually the one complaining about
being too tall.  You can't be comfortable."
	"I'll be fine, I've been in worse."
	I tried to think of a logical reason to keep chatting with him half
dressed but realized that I might just slip on the drool.  I headed to the
bedroom and shut the door and flipped on the light.  I went about my
nightly routine and finally undressed and a few minutes later crawled into
bed.
	I was in the middle of a debate on if I was too tired to masturbate
when there was a knock on the door, "Alec, mind if I open the door?"
	I flipped the covers over myself, "What's up?"
	"Yeah, so I lied.  The knee is going to kill me in the morning,
mind if I bunk with you for the night?"
	I would have protested but I was tired and he was leaning against
the doorframe, apparently drunker than I had originally estimated.  Okay,
either I was about have the most frustrating night of sleep or pray to god
that this turned into one of those drunken stories I could cherish for the
rest of my life.
	"Come on."
	I patted the best next to me and he tossed down his pillows and
fell on the bed.  He started to pull back the covers when I intervened, "I
have to warn you, I don't sleep with anything on."
	I could hear his smirk, "I'm usually the same way, but I don't want
you jumping me in the middle of the night."
	Did he know?  Was I that obvious?  Probably.
	"Shut the hell up and go to sleep."
	He was under the covers and asleep in minutes.  I however was not
falling asleep anytime soon.  College fantasy.  College fantasy.  It's the
only thing I could think of.  At some point he rolled onto his side and
pressed up against me, spooning against my back.
	Good fucking lord, this was cruel and unusual.
	His arm wrapped around my chest and pulled me closer.  My body
tensed against his touch.  As much as I was waiting for the hand to go
lower and be another guilt free seduction from alcohol I could hear his
breathing change into that sleeping rhythm.
	No fantasy tonight, but somehow, being wrapped up in an almost-pro
football player's arms had it's on pleasant side.  After an hour of feeling
his chest rise against my back I passed out curled up against his body.



Part 3 will come shortly.  Feel free to email any comments or suggestions
to excalbre@email.com