Date: Fri, 20 Jan 2012 21:10:26 -0500
From: Derrick Chase <pessimistsandoptimists@gmail.com>
Subject: A Pessimist's Guide to Optimism-4

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to real life
events or people are purely coincidental. This story is about love and lust
and loss, the three most entertaining things in the world! When deemed
necessary, there will be sex. If you are offended by sex, why are you on
this website? Get out now. If you are underage and reading this... Well,
there's worse stuff you could be doing illegally; you should still hit
escape though!!! Rebellious delinquents...

Chapter 3 DERRICK

"One... Two... Three... Four..."

   It was Christmas Eve, but that didn't stop me from coming up to the
nearly empty gym to workout. Sweat pored from every pore of my body, every
muscle ached, and my I could feel the blood pumping ferociously to my
throbbing skull. Yet, despite the pain and sweat, I was at home. Working
out brought me peace of mind. All my energy was concentrated on lifting the
weights, and I didn't have the ability to think. I glanced at the clock. My
dad said I had to be home by six-thirty; I had better go. A four hour
workout wasn't enough to clear my head, but it would have to do.

   My name is Derrick Chase, and despite what other people will tell you,
I'm a pretty normal guy. I mean, I like to think of myself as normal. Maybe
I'm not. Maybe I'm the most fucked up guy on the planet. After the week
that I had, I don't know anything anymore. Forget it, I have to get home.

   I walked into the empty locker room to get my sweats and my wallet. I
live about a mile away from the gym, and I prefer to walk. I save gas
money, and walking lets me think. I don't have enough time to think, but I
need it. I need time. I need to think. I don't know what I need, honestly.

   After gathering all my stuff I walked out into the cold afternoon. The
sky was grey and overcast. A few flurries of snow were blowing in the wind,
and there was hardly a car on the street. Christmas Eve was a big thing for
the uppity suburbs where I lived. The whole holiday season, to me, seemed
so fake. The stale music, the high handed ideals... I may be slightly
biased though. I never really celebrated Christmas the way everyone else
did. Well, I guess I probably did back when I was really little. Back
before my mom passed away. Now, I can't remember a Christmas tree ever
entering my house.

   I turned left at the driveway to the gym, and continued down the
sidewalk towards my house. Snow covered everything, and ice cracked
underneath my feet. I could see the footprints from when I walked to get to
the gym; I tried to follow the same path to get back to my house. The air
was bitterly cold, but luckily not windy. I was bundled up in a warm,
winter hat and a thick coat. I spotted a chunk of ice on the sidewalk and
decided to kick it down pavement.

Let the thinking begin...

  Five days ago I-- Maybe I should start from the beginning. It's better if
you know the whole story. The whole story is always much better than
fragments. "My dear, I don't give a damn." is nothing without nearly a
thousand pages of information. (Gone With the Wind <3) Freshmen Year, I
came into high school and was pretty much unanimously proclaimed stud of my
year. I didn't ask to be the most popular kid of the school, I'm not really
sure I wanted to be, but I was, nonetheless.

   My dad pushed me, all through grade-school, to be good at sports-- all
sports. He made me play football, soccer, tennis, baseball, lacrosse,
hockey, basketball, even wrestling for a little while. I was only in eighth
grade, and could probably tackle and throw better than all the kids in
their senior year at high school. I wasn't talented, as a lot of people
said. It irritated the fuck out of me when people said that I was 'blessed'
or that I had a real 'gift.' I'm not gifted at all! I had dad who worked my
ass morning, noon, and night ever since I could swing a plastic baseball
bat. I practiced constantly and trained every day; that's why I was
good. Not because I was born with a bunch of talent.

   Anyways, Freshmen Year I was ordained king of the hallways and prince of
the practice field. I felt like I never got go through the experience of
high school, though. Don't get me wrong, I was happy as hell that I was
popular the minute I walked in the door, but I felt like I was forced into
my 'social class,' and I never really had a choice as to who my friends
were. I went to an all guys school, but I felt like, even with guys, we had
our cliques. The football jocks, the soccer guys, the whiz kids, the drama
nerds, the track boys... I would have liked to experiment a little, but my
dad would never hear of that. I was varsity quarterback from the moment I
graduated middle school.

   I still got to interact with other kids. Being who I was, I could talk
to whoever I wanted, and not suffer any repercussions. I liked other people
who weren't meatheads. Intelligent people are way more fun to talk to. I
would chat with some of the guys in the play, I would make small-talk with
the kids on the debate team, but there was one kid who, ever since Freshmen
Year, I really wanted to talk to. His name was Ryan Tarcy, and even though
I had never said a word to him, I wanted to know him.

   I never had any classes with Ryan; he was way smarter than me. I would
see him in the halls though... He stood out. It was about two weeks into my
first year of high school when I first noticed him. He was getting books
out of his locker, and I never saw a guy look so sexy hauling textbooks
from a metal hole in the wall. He was bent over; his fair, blonde hair hung
over his face, and he had the cutest body I had ever seen. He was thin as a
rail, but didn't look awkward. His arms were slender, his cheekbones high,
and his butt was tight and compact. I had seen plenty of guys naked in the
locker room. I had seen dicks of all shapes and sizes. I had seen asses
that were round as the moon. I didn't care about any of these things. When
I saw Ryan Tarcy brush his hair from his face, and look up at me with his
curious, deep blue eyes, I wanted him. I wanted him naked. I wanted him
exposed. I never considered myself remotely gay, at that point, but after I
came to the thought of his cute body, my sexual confusion began. I never
talked to him all Freshmen Year, but I always took notice of him in the
halls. I would catch him staring at me; our eyes would meet and he would
quickly look away. I would keep staring.

   Sophomore Year things got complicated. I started to drive, there were
parties every weekend, and girls. Yes, girls came into the picture. They
all wanted the sexy quarterback. They didn't really like me; they didn't
really know me. They just wanted to be able to say that they got to sleep
with me. Girls can whine and moan all they want about how guys do nothing
but use them for sex, but they're no better. Trust me. I turned all of them
down. I wasn't about to lose my virginity to some skank who couldn't even
spell the word 'obtuse.' Obviously, that's not what I told the guys in the
locker room, but I remained a virgin, despite the crazy parties.

   I never saw Ryan at the parties. I would always look out of curiosity,
but he was never there. That surprised me a little, seeing as he was best
friends with the king of party planning: James Griffin, who went to and
hosted nearly every blowout. The dynamic between them confused me. I mean,
on one hand you have the popular party animal, and on the other you have
the docile, track runner. Those two personalities didn't seem to click
together, but they were best friends. I would ask James about Ryan every
once in awhile. I tried not to be creepy: just the mention of his name or
something like that. I wanted to get to know him, but was too nervous to do
it directly. I learned about him through other people instead.

   I finally did get to have a class with Ryan in the fall: drivers ed. It
was an after school class from six to eight. I was worn out from football
practice the first day. I staggered into the the first desk I saw; I didn't
even notice the dreamy little blonde in the back of the class. The second
day I did. Seats were already assigned, so I was basically miles away from
him. I would give him a glance before I sat down every day. I thought he
noticed. I hoped that he noticed.

   I did end up dating a girl in the middle of January. Her name was
Sabrina Leon, and she was the hottest girl at St. Catherine's; I did, after
all, have a reputation to keep up. I would finger her every once in awhile,
and she would blow me when she felt like it. But we never had sex. That's
actually why we broke up. I refused to have sex with her. She was nice,
though; not slutty. She just wanted more commitment and I wasn't ready
that. I still was unsure whether or not I even liked girls at that
point. All the guys were cool to me when we broke up, and Sabrina never
told anyone the real reason why she ended it. Thank God.

   Now, I want to be clear, I do have friends. Real friends that is. I've
known Luke Morris since I was six. He and I have been playing football
since middle school, and he's one of the few people I am honestly friends
with. Our dads both ride us hard, and we have a lot of common interests.

   Luke and I got into a bunch of trouble Sophomore Year. Rather, Luke
started the trouble, and I had to save his ass. You see, Luke is a piss
poor drinker. He can't hold down more than a couple of beers, but that
doesn't stop him from guzzling half a bottle of vodka every weekend. He
gets drunk faster than anyone I know. He's also a crazy drunk. Like off the
wall crazy. One weekend in the spring he climbed on top of the school and
threw pebbles at the cops who were called due to the disturbance. I had to
basically carry him back to my house; he passed out after sprinting from
the police. I love him though. I've never really fantasized about him,
though. I mean, I have a little, but I don't get chills thinking about
him. Not like when I think about Ryan.

   Junior Year finally came around, and after a wild summer, I found myself
back in school. I had almost forgotten about Ryan over the break, but when
I saw him again... He was this enigma. He was smart but sexy. He was skinny
but hot. He was nerdy but stylish. I could never get up the nerve to go
talk to him. If he was a girl, I would have no problem, but he wasn't. He
was a guy. I wasn't comfortable just going up to talk to this kid I had
never met before. What do I say? What if he's not gay? What if he's
critical if me because I'm such a dumb jock? I think I still wasn't ready
to absolutely commit to being gay. Talking to Ryan would confirm my
sexuality; I wasn't prepared to do that. So I continued my admiration from
afar. Maybe Senior Year.

   Everything came crashing together the night of the Christmas Dance. I
didn't actually go to the dance. I was asked by a million different girls,
but said no to all of them. I hated dances. I did go to the after party,
though. It was at James Griffin's house, and he always threw a good
party. I left after things got too drunk, wild and crazy. While driving, I
saw this lone figure jumping up and down in the blowing snow. When Ryan
Tarcy got in my car, my heart stopped. I didn't know what to do! Rather
than take him home, I took him to my house. We slept in the same bed. I had
never slept in the same bed with another guy before, but I tried to make it
clear to Ryan it was not a big deal. He was super drunk. He would've done
anything I said, but I'm not one to take advantage of the wasted.

   When he woke up the next morning, he was still out of it. I drove him
back to James's house, but first I gave him some clothes of mine to
wear. Partly because I didn't want to send him away with cold, snow
drenched clothes, and also because I wanted to have an excuse to talk to
him again.

   So, back to where we began. Five days ago I met up with him. He met me
after my hockey game. I took him back to my house; even though we won the
game, I skipped the victory parties. Ryan was more important than any night
of drinking and girls.

   I asked him to give me a massage. I told him I was sore because of the
hockey game, and I was actually slightly surprised when he agreed. All I
could think of as his hands rubbed at me was whether or not he was
gay. When he was done with my massage, I took my chance.

   I asked if I could give him a massage. He didn't need that much
persuading. Things got out of control. I jacked him off and almost kissed
him. Our lips were centimeters apart when his phone rang. I was
embarrassed. It was my first time ever giving into an honest, sexual urge,
and it didn't go like I planned. It was ruined with a phone call, and when
Ryan looked up at me, almost pityingly, I couldn't take it. I didn't sleep
at all that night. I tossed and turned and tried to get what had happened
out of my head, but I couldn't. I was ashamed of what I did. If I had been
taught one thing, it was that being gay is not okay. Between my father and
my Catholic school, that was what I knew. I felt guilty for dragging Ryan
into my problems and my life and my insecurities. It wasn't fair to him. I
spent the whole rest of the week pumping as much iron as possible, trying
to get thoughts of Ryan out of my mind. If being gay was so wrong, why did
what we did feel so perfectly normal? So natural?

   The chunk of ice that I had been kicking ricocheted off my front porch;
I was home. The sky was already darkening, and I could see my dad through
the window watching T.V. with my older brother.

   I do have an older brother. His name is Trent and he's in college. We
were really close when he was still around. He was who I would go to when
my dad got too irritating. We would stay up until late at night trash
talking him, and saying things we would never dare whisper in his
presence. Trent was never as big of an athlete as me. He grew up when my
mom was still alive, and my dad wasn't as harsh. When she died, he was
already starting high school. He escaped the blunt of my dad's controlling
authority. I loved Trent. He didn't come around too often, but when he did,
things always went well.

   I walked into the house and closed the garage door behind me. I walked
through the living room and into the kitchen to get some food.

"How was your workout, bro?" Trent asked, looking away from Sportscenter.

"I wish I had left earlier, I didn't get as much time as I wanted in." I
said between a chug of water.

"Four hours is plenty, dude! Especially for Christmas Eve. You deserve a
break."

"I don't know about that," my dad spoke up. It was only a matter of
time. "After the way they played last weekend, I think he should have left
the house earlier and clocked in more hours."

The statement was directed at Trent, but I responded.

"We won the game, that's what matters. And I was pretty good out there. I'm
not responsible for everyone else."

"Oh, you're not, are you?" He was still fixed on the T.V. "You're a
superstar who's above the rest of the team, is that it? You're only as good
as you're unit, boy. Don't ever forget that."

   I gave Trent a look and walked up to my room. It wasn't worth the
argument. When I got to my room, I began to get changed. I had just slipped
my boxers back on when Trent knocked.

"Boy, it's gonna be a fun Christmas this year," he said smiling

"Easy for you to joke about it! You haven't had to put up with him all
year."

"I'm the lucky son. Listen, do you wanna go out with me tonight? I was
gonna go up to the bar and have a drink. It's not like we have plans for
tonight."

   I was happy Trent said this. I was really not looking forward to another
Christmas Eve locked up in my room... Jerkin off.

"You mean dad's not cooking a delicious Christmas feast? I was really
looking forward to it!"

Trent laughed, "Get your clothes on pretty-boy, and meet me downstairs. I
don't wanna wait around here much longer."

   I slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt, and met my brother at the front
door. The bar was empty. I was surprised it was even opened, but the old
guy at the counter looked kinda happy when we came in. He didn't even card
me when I asked for a beer. Isn't that cheery? Isn't that just in the
spirit of the season? I couldn't keep myself from wondering what Ryan was
doing? His Christmas was probably loads better than mine. He probably had a
normal family. I glanced at my phone. I could text him. Maybe I
should. This day can't get worse. If he didn't respond, it wouldn't matter
at this point.

Me: hey

I waited a few minutes-- took a few sips of my beer.

Ryan Tarcy: hey, hows your xmas eve?

I felt a weight lifted off of my back; he responded.

Me: shitty. I hope yours is better?

Ryan Tarcy: haha how can christmas be shitty?? and mines good.

Me: my dad refuses to celebrate any holiday :/ so im out drinking with my
bro

"Who ya textin?" Trent asked. We were playing pool now, and I was up.

"Just a friend," I said. I think I blushed a little.

"You say she's just a friend," Trent sang.

"It's a guy... Soo..." I smiled

   Trent just smiled back, and my phone vibrated suddenly.

Ryan Tarcy: im sorry. my dads an ass too. He tones it down around the
holidays though.

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed again.

Ryan Tarcy: do you wanna come over?

My heart beat a little faster.

Me: you dont have to do that. I dont wanna intrude.

That sounded modest.

Ryan Tarcy: okay... im sorry

Not the response I was looking for. I looked at the clock; it was ten after
nine.

"We should probably get back," Trent said, seeing me check out the time.

"Yeah..."

   When we got home I went straight up to my room. I thought if Ryan and
our night together. I was gay. I was gay and I knew it and I liked it and I
wanted Ryan. I wanted Ryan Tarcy. There was no other way to put it. I spent
the whole week trying to black out who I really was! That's more shameful
than being gay. I looked at my phone. The way he texted sorry-- the way he
apologized before he left my house-- he didn't have anything to apologize
for. I snatched my car keys off the dresser, and sprinted downstairs. It
was half past eleven.

Me: whats your address?

Ryan Tarcy: umm? 22429 Willow Way. its off of Oakwood Drive. why?

I hopped in the car and drove. It was time to set things right. It didn't
take long to get to Ryan's house. I saw his Ford Focus parked in the
driveway and parked behind it. A hopped out of the car and knocked on the
front door.

...

...

...

The door opened.

"Hey"

"Hey"

"What are you doing here?" Ryan asked. He was in his pajamas, "I mean, it's
kinda late,"

"I needed to see you--talk to you."

"Oh."

"Do you have a sec?"

"Yeah. Yeah-- come in."

Snow was starting to fall lightly.

"I was actually thinking," I began, "could we take a walk?"

He gave me a look.

"Lemme go get some warmer stuff on. Wait for me inside, at least."

   I stepped into Ryan's house. The banisters were adorn with Christmas
decorations, and holly hung from the ceiling. The fireplace was on, and the
the whole house was warm. I could hear people talking in the dining room,
but I just stood awkwardly in the foyer. I didn't want to intrude; I just
wanted to talk with Ryan.

"Alright, let's go." Ryan was trying to grin at me from the top of the
stairs.

   He looked amazing. He was wearing some loose fitting, black jeans, a
green, collared shirt, and a bright red sweater. He looked sexy and
Christmasy all at once. I just smiled at him and opened the door.

   The snow was falling somewhat hard. It was more than just flurries, but
nowhere near to what it was like when I saved Ryan from that blizzard. That
all seemed so long ago. I followed Ryan down his driveway and onto the
sidewalk. A dusting of snow covered the pavement, but the grass, trees, and
houses were cloaked in a think blanket of crystal. A few houses had their
Christmas lights on, and the glow reflected onto the snow, splashing the
night sky with dozens of dazzling colors. Ryan walked on my left; his
shoulder brushed up against mine slightly.

"Listen, Derrick, I don't want things to be weird." Ryan started the
conversation, "I promise I won't tell anyone what happened last weekend. I
swear. It was an accident. You didn't mean to do it. You had just won the
hockey game, no one was home, and things just... If you're worried that I'm
gonna say anything..."

   I looked at Ryan. He seemed nervous, but he also seemed like he meant
everything that he said.

"I'm gay." I told him.

"What?"

"I'm gay. I'm gay and I like guys. And I like you Ryan. Ive liked you for
awhile, and maybe that's fucked up, and maybe it's a sin, but it's who I
am. I can't help it. When I picked you up in the snow, it was the luckiest
day of my life. You're nice and you're smart and you're so goddamn sexy. I
don't-- I don't know if you're gay. I don't care. I'll like you either
way. But you need to know one thing: last weekend was not a mistake. At
least not for me. It was not an accident and it was not a fluke. Everything
that happened, I meant to happen. I've been trying to cope with how this
all worked out. I've really had to come to terms with a lot about myself,
but I can't do it alone. I need you. I need you to show me what I am-- who
I'm meant to be. Because I'm so confused Ryan--"

   I felt tears well up in my eyes and splash across my face. I saw Ryan
look up at me. His blue eyes were like hot, blue fire. He had a hard look
on his face. Not like stone, but like diamond. He threw his arms around my
neck, and kissed me. His soft lips met mine and we were kissing. I pulled
him around the waist, and we were kissing. His lips parted slightly, and we
were kissing. My tongue ran across his, and we were kissing. The snow
whipped around us like flecks of glass, and we were kissing. We fell,
intertwined, into the snow, and we were kissing. The cold wrapped around us
like a blanket, but we didn't feel a chill because, we were
kissing. Kissing and kissing and kissing.

TBC

Hi. I'm soooo sorry this took so long. I'm actually in New York City. I got
here today, and have been prepping for the trip all week. I had no time to
write. I finished the chapter on the plane. I didn't choose an editor.
Sorrrrrrry. It's been a crazy week. This chapter probably blows because it
was so rushed, but I tried to make the ending good. The next chapter will
be sooooo perfect, I promise. I already know what I'm gonna do.

I'm having tons of fun in NYC, but I'm under 21 and I can't do a lot of the
really good stuff. If anyone has suggestions for cool things to do in New
York at night, I'm here until Wednesday. So, comments, questions, concerns,
invitations to drug raves, post cards from Nicaragua, and SUGGESTIONS FOR
WHAT TO DO IN THE BIG APPLE, please send all that to
pessimistsandoptimists@gmail.com. I love the emails I get! Please keep them
coming; they make me write faster. My inbox is my muse. Thanks for reading
:)