Date: Thu, 7 Aug 2008 17:06:47 +0100
From: mac_manap@msn.com
Subject: American-English, pt. 4

	I would like to thank the guys at Nifty for putting up with me. I'm
sorry for posting the wrong chapter, but I did it at around 2am my time, so
I was tired. Here is the next instalment early, so now you'll have the
first five to read. This does mean that I will be taking some time to write
part six as I haven't started yet.
	Also, thanks must go to Rob who has helped me on the creative side
of things. It's very kind of him to help me. This is the last chapter that
I wrote myself. After this, he is my co-writer as the ideas are as much his
as my own...maybe more so.
	Also, thanks to everyone who has emailed me their kind, kind
words. I do really appreciate every email I get. It's both a blessing and
stressing to know that so many people look forward to and enjoy reading
this drivel. It honestly makes my day.
	Anyway, happy reading!

       This story is entirely fictional. If it seems familiar then it's
because it is. I stalked you and took parts of your life for this story. I
have that kind of time. If anything offends you, well, too late because you
already read it. To be fair, you are on a site where you could come across
anything, so you have no right to be offended. So there.
       If it is illegal for you to read this in your community, then I
advise you to leave. However, I can't personally do anything about it. I
won't to be honest, because I'm lazy.  Thank you, I'll be here all week!

Enjoy!


       AMERICAN-ENGLISH

       CHAPTER FOUR.
       UNDER PRESSURE.

       I don't think any TV show, any film, book or other medium has ever
truthfully portrayed the stress of finals week. Or at least none I had come
across. I had assumed it was the same typical struggle experienced by
students all over the globe. Well, I was wrong. Luckily for me, I still had
the pleasure of having to sit my A level exams for the courses I had
started in England. Perfect. The worst part? The exams weren't due to
commence for another couple of weeks. Excellent. I didn't want to imagine
how intense the pressure could grow.
       Though I may complain, I actually welcomed this trying time. With
everyone too busy to be concerned with aggravating me, it appeared that all
of the troubling confrontations with the student body were behind
me. Everything regarding the photograph incident had been forgotten and my
face (having not come in contact with any more fists or other attacking
limbs) had healed quickly. The swelling and bruising had reduced
significantly and my normal skin colour was visible from the red shine that
had painted over it. For the first time, I was most commonly addressed as
`Jacob', rather than `newbie', `fag' or some other pleasantry by
my peers. Soccer was still the focus of our P.E. lessons, and I was the
star on the field- a title I didn't really want. Most of the guys still
didn't like me, even if they didn't verbally abuse me to my face. Brady,
Dylan and Evander were still arseholes though, and made sure they were
anything but friendly towards me. What made it worse, however, was my
frequent pairing with the only other player who wasn't regarded as a total
failure at the sport.
       It had been over week since my encounter with Clay and, although we
still shared greetings (however seldom), our friendship had been reduced to
basic hand gestures and head-nods. A wall of awkward fog had wedged its way
between us and until one of us broke it down, it was likely that our mild
friendship would cease completely.
       My friendship with Alicia and LeAnn, on the other hand, was
blossoming brilliantly. Being so care-free and open-minded, the pair had a
way of making everything and nothing feel important. The only thing that
irritated me about them was how far away they lived.
       "You have to get up at five every morning?" I questioned them,
disbelievingly.
       "Well, believe it or not, Jay, we don't look this good
naturally," Alicia replied.
       "What do you mean "we"? I don't know what you mean. I wake
up every morning like this, complete with birds singing and deer helping me
get dressed..." she faded off as Alicia and I laughed at her. "What
are you guys laughing at?" She giggled with us.
       "Girl, get over your self, please!" Alicia turned back to
me. "I know it's shocking, but it does take time to look this fine!"
she smiled at me. "Get up any later, and we'll be a skanky mess at
school. Travel takes an hour and a half at least."
       "That's ridiculous." I hadn't ever truly realised how far they
lived. "I wouldn't do it. I'd insist on being home schooled."
       "You'd miss us too much!" Alicia laughed.
       All-in-all, things were going pretty well for me. I was
happy. Ish. Something was still making me feel weird inside. You know when
you've forgotten to do something, or you need to sort something out and you
can't remember what it is, but it's there clawing at your back and making
you wince every so often... that kind of feeling was scratching at me.
       My problem was that I knew the cause of it, no matter how I tried to
ignore it.
       "Hey, Jacob, wait up a minute!" Jackson called me back to the
field as I headed up with the rest of the troupe to get changed and head
off home. I still hadn't managed to acquire any male friends in this class
and so, even with my recent prominence on the pitch, the lesson was still
one of my least favourites.
       "Good hustle today. It's a shame the rest of the guys aren't
picking it up quick enough. I'd like to get a good game going...I was
hoping on starting up a team for the school. But there's not enough guys
who wanna play. Heck, there's probably not enough guys who could play!"
I laughed with him at this. Although there was improvement, most of the
guys just couldn't get the skill it takes to play football. Maybe they
weren't used to just using their feet to pass the ball around...who knows.
       "I've been thinking a lot lately how it's a shame that you're
talent is being wasted in this class. So I looked around and asked a few
people I know and I've found a team just out of town that are looking for a
couple of new players...if you're interested?"
       "What? Really? You think I'm good enough for a team?" I had
never been part of a football team before. I only played around at school
and with my mates.
       "Yeah, definitely! So I can tell the coach that you're
interested?"
       "Sure... Yes. I'm in!" I smiled at him.
       "Well, in that case, he agrees and willingly takes you
onboard." He beamed back as we picked up the sacks of balls and walked
up to the lock-up.
       "You're the coach?" I'm a smart-cookie, aren't I?
       He just laughed back at me as we headed up the green slopes of grass
to the storage shed. He explained a little about the team: all guys around
my age, talented at the sport, all different styles and techniques and a
friendly group (he would say that though, wouldn't he- can't really abuse
the poor bastards now can he?).
       "This is perfect. I think I know how I can arrange the team
now..." he drifted off as he headed to the staff room. "The two of
you are really gonna have a blast!"
       Déjà vu.
       Once again I was stood outside the locker room, shocked by his
parting comment before he wandered out of sight. Two of us? I didn't really
have to ask him who the other guy was. I didn't even have to think about
it. Only one other guy would have been good enough to join an actual team.
       Since the shower incident, I'd to skip the shower whenever gym was
held last period, heading home straight away instead. The tension in their
now was a little confusing for me. Clay, it seemed, had adopted the same
approach. I would often see him driving home as he passed me.
       "Jake? Jacob?" Mum had been around more lately. Dad had
started up at work properly now that the company was settled and so was
unable to take her on outings and explore the new country. She now filled
her time with cooking and gardening. My home life was becoming more and
more like an episode of `Desperate Housewives'. I think you know which
character I mean.
       "Hey, mum."
       "How was your day?" Insert toothy grin and glowing complexion.
       "Pretty good. LeAnn and I blew up some stuff in chemistry. And I
got offered a place on a football team just outside of town..." and I
explained about the proposition.
       "That's wonderful!" Over-ecstatic expressions. "I am so
proud of you." She hugged me, covering me in flour. "Oh my,
Jacob..." she pulled away. Apparently I smelled worse than I
thought. "I think you need to go and wash yourself." At least I found
an antidote for Mrs. I'm-Going-To-Smile-`Til-My-Teeth-Fall-Out.
       "Wow! That's awesome! Does that mean we get to come and watch you
play?" I rang Alicia later that night to tell her what had happened.
       "Of course. If you want to!"
       "I wonder if there are cheerleaders... Does soccer have
cheerleaders?"
       "Err, not that I know of... why, you want to join the squad if
there is?"
       "Definitely! I mean-" she put on a cutesy voice, sounding
something like Chrissie's "-I would, like, totally just be, like, the
greatest cheerleader who, like, ever existed! Like!" We laughed at each
other. LeAnn had a similar reaction when I rang her, including the mockery
of Chrissie.
       Over the next few days, and a lot of studying, Jackson spoke to me
frequently listing all the details that I would need to know about: where,
when, what to bring etc. He offered to pick me up and take me home as I
couldn't drive and my dad had the only car with him at the time.
       When Friday afternoon rolled around, I sat by the front door
waiting. I had my football boots and socks ready, with my Arsenal shirt and
shorts on. I heard the horn bleep and called goodbye to the mother, who was
making fruit pies. About eight of them.
       "Ha-ha, nice shirt," Jackson approved as I got into his
car. It wasn't overly flashy, but still nice.
       On the drive over we spoke about various subjects; who our favourite
players and teams were, who would do well in which league. We also talked
about music and other stuff. He was a big classic rock fan and insisted on
blaring the music from the CD player.
       It was a pretty long drive and I felt bad for making Jackson taxi me
around. The town had disappeared and the only buildings left were very
large houses spread out across the land. We arrived at a big playing field
where a few guys were waiting for Jackson.
       "Hey, how's everyone doing?" he asked as he unlocked the door
to the building at the side of the field. I walked in to discover a large,
spacious room which smelt of sweat, feet, sweaty feet and mould. It
reminded me of my middle school's changing room. At least this one didn't
seem to leak or have drafts, which had made changing in the winter months
very uncomfortable indeed.
       I took up a place on one of the benches feeling as awkward as I had
done on my first day at the high school. All of the guys here seemed to be
friends and spoke openly and lively with one another. Feeling the
"new-guy" complex settle in, I sat in the corner of the room and
changed my shoes and socks anticipating the start of practice.
       Most of the guys were still changing when Clay walked in. It was
strange watching his presence go unnoticed; usually when he entered the
changing rooms at school he would be greeted by a number of people, whilst
his entourage brought up the rear. Here, there was no one. He looked as
sheepish as I felt. Head down he walked to the fist strip of empty wood he
could and sat down, getting changed into a T-shirt and shorts.
       "You guys still changing? Jeez, what you waiting for? This ain't
no beauty pageant!" Jackson walked back into the locker room from the
pitch where he'd been setting up the equipment. Noticing Clay he stopped
and called the guys to attention.
       "Hey, fellas! Hush up! Right, you may have noticed that we have a
couple of new guys here today. I want you to meet Clay Jefferson."
Jackson held his arm up, indicating CJ to the room, who returned the
welcome with an embarrassed, weak smile and nod. "And Jacob Hylton,"
Jackson continued, raising his arm to me as well. I felt all the eyes turn
around and face me, sat in my little corner feeling the scrutinising stares
of the fifteen young men who I had never met. "Wait `til you see what
the guys can do. I want you to make them feel welcome. Remember- and I know
it's corny, alright," he smirked at a couple of guys who laughed and
rolled their eyes, "but we're a team, ok? So we gotta be one. Otherwise,
you're fucked!"
       As the laughter broke out, I had a look of shock on my face. I had
heard (in my many years of now-varied education) teachers swear
occasionally, but never as explicitly as this. Then again, he wasn't
Mr. Jackson, high school gym teacher & coach. He was Jackson, the manager
of the football team.
       We headed out to the field. The sun was still high in the sky,
keeping us baked in warmth as we began jogging laps around the pitch. Many
of the guys horsed around as we ran, jumping on each other and pushing each
other to the ground, racing for small stretches of the course and just
having a good time. Clay, who was a few yards behind me, still had his head
down concentrating on the course. I don't think I had ever seen him stay
quiet for so long outside of a classroom. Lately, all he seemed to do was
look intensely pensive. He shrouded himself in deep thoughts and a quiet
aura. He didn't seem to be Clay anymore.
       "Hey, Jacob, right?" I turned to find the panting voice to my
left.
       "Yeah, that's me."
       "Oh, I didn't know you were English. Cool." The guy
smiled. His wavy, dirty-blonde hair moved with the wind as he continued
jogging. He was about my height, maybe a fraction taller, and was built
well- one of the first things I noticed was how big his biceps were. He
caught me looking at them.
       "Ha-ha, yeah, I get that quite a bit..." he laughed it
off. "I'm Jesse by the way." He held out his hand awkwardly and I
took it in mine. We chatted a little bit about practice sessions and how
the team had done the previous season. From what I gathered, the team were
good- very good usually, but they had lost a couple of players for college
a couple of years before and couldn't replace them, thus lacking a
respectable number of players to play with, which cost them the league.
       After an hour or so of tough warm-up regimes and even more laps, I
was worn to the bone. Collapsing onto the field, Jackson walked over to me
and laughed.
       "Not used to it, huh?"
       I didn't respond. I couldn't.
       "Yeah, guess you weren't really expecting us Yanks to be so tough
with soccer." He smiled at me and held out his hand to help me
up. "You'll get used to it. I just work all the guys hard to make sure
we're good enough. I don't want a repeat of last season."
       Finally on my feet, I looked him in the eye with as much confidence
I could and replied. "You call that tough? I was just taking a break...
I was getting bored." I smiled cheekily at him, a couple of the guys
including Jesse laughed with me. I even saw CJ smile a little, but he
quickly stopped. He still hadn't said anything, or at least not a lot, to
any of the guys. I couldn't help but feel bad for the guy.
       "You little shit!" Jackson laughed, smacking me around the
head. "Just for that, all of ya- get to it. Five more laps. Winner gets
a prize." He punctuated with a blow from his whistle and we all started
along the tracks. I wasn't going to win this one by a long shot. After the
third lap I lost the incredible ache in my legs to numbness. My chest
heaved and my head stung with exhaustion. I would have to get in better
shape for this team.
       As the practice persisted, the sun was began to set in the
distance. A warm orange glow painted the field and the team. An amazing
scent filled the air from all of the surrounding vegetation in the
village. It would have been nice to just sit and enjoy the environment, but
we didn't get that chance until after eight o'clock. Three hours of
tortuous exercise had finally come to an end and I felt both weirdly
content and tired as hell.
       As everyone dismantled and collected up the equipment and started
heading back to the derelict hut, Jackson called after me.
       "Hey, I've just had a phone call and I have to head to the
hospital. My sister's been in a car accident- it's nothing serious. But I
have to check on her, get her home. So I won't be able to take you..."
he drifted off, looking guilty.
       "No, that's cool. My dad will probably be home by now or
something. Yeah, you should go. I hope that she's alright."
       "Yeah, she will be. She drives like a maniac, so it'll knock some
sense into her. One of the guys will be able to give you a lift if you need
it. I'll see you on Monday. Have a good weekend, Jacob. Jesse!" He
called after the blonde. "I need you to lock up. Just bring the keys
back next week. I gotta run." And he explained about his sister. I also
had a feeling he asked if Jesse could run me home as he asked me when I
passed him on the way to the locker room.
       "Hey, Jake, you need a lift? Coach said he was your ride."
       "Err, nah, I'll see if my dad can come and get me. Thanks
anyway."
       "It's no problem. I'm heading into town anyway."
       "Well, if it's not out of your way..."
       "It's cool. No need to worry about it," and he shot me a wink
and a pat on the shoulder.
       The building was steamy when I walked in. I heaved myself to my
corner and undressed. I headed to the shower and hung myself under the
first free shower head. Like school, some of the guys didn't hang around to
shower. I couldn't really blame them. The showers were not pleasant. Mould
grew in each corner of the tiled walls and floor and a stench which made me
think of mildew polluted the air. The water pressure wasn't much to be
desired either- only two of the ten or so shower heads shot out a decent
force of water. Everyone else either had to wait for them to free up and
then fight for control, or just deal with it.
       Since I would be one of the last to leave to help with locking-up,
the pathetic, dripping shower didn't bother me so much. By the time I had
finished washing the dirt and sweat from my hair, only a small number of
guys were left. I looked around at them and noticed that Clay was one of
the last ones. I began to wonder if he had misplaced his voice. I hadn't
heard him say a word since I arrived at the field. He seemed to be
concentrating intently again, this time on his shower. He kept his face
firmly at the wall. Jesse walked in after locking up the equipment to grab
a quick shower. The two working showers were in use, one by Clay and the
other by another guy. I think his name was Sam.
       "One of you guys need to move or I'm joining you under there...I
don't have time for these pissing things."
       "Like fuck are you coming under here," chortled Sam. He was
tall and had sweeping dark brown hair. Well, at least when it was dry.
       "Fag!" Jesse laughed back. "Yo, Clay," he walked up
behind him. Clay didn't seem to have heard him. Terror erupted across his
face when Jesse stepped under the blazing shower head with the
quarterback. "Sorry bud, I need a quick shower, and bad. I got a hot
date after this and don't really wanna smell like the rest of these
dicks."
       When Jesse started washing his body I noticed Clay watching him soap
up. Jesse had a big chest with complimentary abs to go with it. It was the
kind of body a lot of guys dreamed of having.
       Clay shot me a look and quickly rinsed off as soon as he realised I
had noticed him watch Jesse. He left the shower quickly grabbing the first
towel he could find. He had already left by the time I came out of the
shower. I couldn't explain it, but something made me feel sorry for him. He
hadn't been himself since that last gym class. Even when he was with his
buddies, he was quieter than normal. Chrissie had yelled at him in the
corridor earlier that week for not meeting or ringing her when she
demanded.
       When we were both dressed, Jesse and I headed out and locked up the
building, setting the alarms and switching off the electricity.
       "I see why Jackson got you two on the team. You're both great. I
think we might be have a swing at the title this coming season."
       "Thanks." I blushed a little. I started to feel the pressure
to meet expectations build. Jackson and Jesse had both complimented me on
my apparent skills. Clay had also called me talented a few times.
       During the long ride back we talked a bit more about sports. I
explained my ignorance involving most American sports and he asked me to
explain cricket.
       "Couldn't tell you." We laughed.
       Music, films, hobbies, school and careers were all topics we
discussed. Jesse went to a smaller high school on the other side of the
little village. He mentioned how he'd wanted to try and transfer for his
senior year but he'd ran into problems.
       "Well, I live pretty far away so it'd be a pain to have to get
there. Plus, I'm 18. Doesn't look so good that I'm heading into my senior
year older than everyone else. You know how schools are all about
appearances."
       After enquiring about his age, he explained that he hadn't been held
back. "I'm not stupid!" he smiled. "I contracted this virus which
fucked up my nervous system for nearly a year. It left me basically
paralysed. It was alright though- we knew it wasn't permanent. It was just
shitty. I couldn't walk, write, eat... I couldn't play sports... it
sucked. But I began to get my arms and upper body back within a couple of
months. I was worried that my legs would never come back though. It
actually helped me get into soccer. Physio did all these stretches and
things on my feet and legs and I had to do more with them to get my
strength back in them. I started using a ball one day and eventually, well,
I just learnt to play soccer. So at least something good came out of
it."
       As we approached the town I asked him about his date.
       "Ah, it's a hot one. I'm meeting him at this little restaurant
across town and then we're gonna watch a movie...maybe get a room." He
chuckled cheekily.
       "Wait." I interrupted him. "'Him'? You're going on a date
with a guy?"
       "Yeah...oh shit, you didn't know. I've told most people so I
don't even think about it. Hope I didn't weird you out."
       "No..." I lied a little. "I guess it took me mostly by
surprise. I never would have expected though. I mean, you're the only gay
guy I've met who isn't camp."
       "Camp?"
       "Yeah, I guess you guys don't use the word? It means girly, I
guess. It's what we say back home when a guy is really effeminate. Don't
know why," I answered the puzzled look he gave me.
       "Oh, well. Yeah, I'm not like that. I don't really like it. I
mean, if I wanna girl, I'll have a girl, y'know? Which I do by the way...
I'm bisexual. I'm really opened minded about, well, everything. What's the
point in being so one way in life?"
       "I guess..." I agreed. "I dunno if I could though... I
mean, I've never even thought about it."
       "Never?"
       "Nope."
       "Oh... I thought most guys did. I mean, even to confirm that
they never would. Maybe there's hope for you yet!" he laughed. I did
too, somewhat lightly. "So you strictly a lady's man?"
       "Well, I guess..."
       "You guess?" he questioned me.
       "Well, if I'm honest, I haven't really had much experience...and
by much, I mean I was ten when I was in my last relationship. She was
nine. I thought we would be together forever." I joked and he chuckled.
       "Really? I can't believe that dude. You're a great looking
guy. And that accent?" he gave me another wink and I felt myself smile
bashfully. It made him laugh more.
       "Ha-ha, don't worry, I'm not gonna try anything...at least not
now..."
       When we entered the town I gave him directions to my house.
       "Cheers, mate. Was nice of you." I said to him as I stepped
out of the car.
       "No worries dude. I'll give you a call sometime and we can hang
out?"
       "Yeah, sounds like a plan." It wasn't until after he drove off
with my number that I began to wonder what he meant by hang out.
       Give over, Jake. Stop over thinking everything, I thought.
       It was after 9.30 when I walked in the door.
       "Hey parents!" I called out from the hallway as I headed up
stairs. No answer. I guess they went out. Again. I reached my room and
collapsed onto my bed. The rest in the car had given my body the time to
seize up and ache again.
       It was still early, so I grabbed the phone and I decided to ring one
of the girls, see what they were up to. Neither of them answered their
phones when I called. Maybe they went out or something. Damn them for
living so far away.
       Falling back onto the bed, I grabbed the book I was reading and
continued on. James Patterson's books always put me in a good mood. I loved
his style of writing, his description of characters... I was lost in
chapter forty-two when the phone rang.
       "Hey, slag," I crooned down the phone. I had assumed it was
one of the girls returning my call.
       "Err..." It was a male voice that sounded.
       "Oh, sorry. I thought it was someone else. Can I help you?"
       "Jacob?"
       "Speaking."
       "Hi." A pause. I suddenly recognised the voice.
       "Clay?"
       "Yeah, it's me."
       "Hey." Awkward silence. "You alright?"
       "Yeah, I guess. Tired. I'm aching all over."
       "Yeah, same here. Didn't know it was going to be so tough,"
God bless small talk, I thought.
       More silence.
       "Are you ok, Clay?"
       "Yeah. I was just bored." He spoke very quickly.
       "Oh?"
       "Not that I'm only ringing cos I'm bored. I just didn't feel like
going anywhere with the guys and I found you're home number on the fridge,
you know cos our parents' are friends and I just thought I'd...thought I'd
say hey...if that's cool?" He didn't even pause for breath.
       "Yeah. Course it is."
       "Cool," he repeated.
       The continued silence caused me to blurt out: "Do you wanna hang
out?"
       "Yeah," he spoke as soon as I asked. I guess he thought he
sounded to eager, so continued. "If you wanna though."
       "Err, yeah. Yours or mine?"
       We agreed to go to his place. I was a little intrigued to see his
place. I knew he was pretty well off, so this would be interesting to see.
       Ten minutes later I walked down the street in the opposite direction
to school. The further I walked, the bigger the houses grew. Approaching
Clay's, I saw that his was one of the largest ones I had ever seen.
       Large, Greek style columns erupted from the Earth and clung to the
house, towering over the street. White, winding steps swept up to the front
door, a heavy wooden door, framed with clear, stain glass forming weird
shapes on the surface. There were three storeys with what appeared to be a
loft conversion. The white stone seemed to illuminate in the darkness of
the street, the many windows reflecting the street lights. I walked up the
pathway, up the stone steps and knocked on the door. The knock seemed to
have been made louder by the shear size of the door, standing over me at
more than seven feet.
       "Hey," Clay answered the door.
       "You're house is fucking amazing!" Was all I could muster.
       He laughed. "Thanks. I built it myself." He gave the old cocky
grin I hadn't seen in over a week. I laughed with him and stepped
inside. The door shut behind us with a snap.
       The open hallway gave birth to the luxurious sitting room. White
stone was probably a running theme throughout the house. The walls here
were white with various pictures, from family photos to modern and classic
art. The classy furniture was comforting and homely, yet airy and spacious.
       "Wanna drink?" he asked.
       "Yeah, thanks."
       He led me to the kitchen, passing under the high ceilings which had
vaguely visible white sculptures, adding to the décor without being
overbearing.
       The modern kitchen was smaller than I thought it would be, but still
large enough for an island and stools to eat at. He handed me a diet coke
and we headed back to the living room.
       "Wha'd'ya wanna do?" he asked, flopping onto the sofa.
       "I dunno..." I followed suit, still looking around at the
grand room.
       "God, you'd think you'd never seen a living room before," he
smiled, throwing a cushion at me.
       "Hey! I nearly spilt the coke!" I laughed, throwing it back at
him.
       "Wanna see what movies are on?"
       "Sure."
       Dick head. The dick head. I looked around for a TV and couldn't find
one. He picked up the remote control and the whirring of a projector screen
fell from the ceiling. It was...big. It was about twelve feet wide. Must
have been that, at least. The dick head.
       Flicking through the channels, we stopped at "Smoking
Aces". Typical guy-ish film, I thought. But I liked it
nevertheless. Sometime through he asked if I was hungry.
       "I haven't had dinner yet," he offered. Accepting, we ordered
pizza and enjoyed the rest of the film.
       I tried to sit there and just enjoy the food, the film and the
company, but something was distracting me. I had a lump in my gut which
throbbed.  I didn't know what to make of it. Was it the awkwardness of
being with Clay? Reaching for another slice of pizza, I stole a glance at
him. I could have sworn I saw him turn away the instant I grabbed for the
pepperoni.
       The movie continued. Alicia Keys and her lesbian friend were
shooting a bunch of FBI agents. This was my favourite part of the
film. That fifty calibre gun... I don't really have a thing for violence
or weapons...but that gun. B-E-A-Utiful. It was hard to concentrate
though. Clay kept fidgeting and moving around. At first I assumed he
couldn't get comfortable, but after twenty minutes of squirming, I guessed
that something was up with him.
       "You okay?"
       "Huh?" He had a spacey look like he was a million miles away.
       "Clay, what's up?"
       "Nothing. I'm just tired from practice is all."
       "Well, do you want me to go so you can sleep?" But he answered
before I could even finish.
       "No!" He exclaimed. "Nah, don't be silly. It's cool."
Pretending to ignore his strange behaviour I continued watching. Soon after
he said he was going to get something from the kitchen.
       Finally able to concentrate on the action, it took me around five to
ten minutes to notice he hadn't returned. I went on a hunt to find the
host. He wasn't in the kitchen. Toilet? I went in search for a bathroom,
but couldn't find any on the ground floor. The stairs, which rose opposite
the front door, led me to the next floor, where I continued my
expedition. Could he have snuck upstairs when I wasn't watching?
       I looked around: no sounds. No movement. At least not on this
floor. I walked into what I presumed was his parents room. It was very
large, with a big bed and even a small two-piece suite. There were a few
doors which I assumed led to a bathroom and one closet per resident.
       Venturing further upwards, I reached the top floor, which had a
further staircase off to the side. I must have been right about the loft
conversion. I stood at the base of the stairs and looked around the current
floor. No one around. Again.
       I came to two conclusions in that instant: first, this would be a
killer house to play hide-and-seek in, and second, if I knew Clay at all, I
guessed he would have the attic as his room. It would give him the most
privacy and space from his parents. A whole floor of space.
       I walked up the winding staircase. These ones were wooden, unlike
the main stone ones. They creaked a little as I stepped further. A window,
which would have allowed glorious southern sunlight into the otherwise
dark-staircase, showed off the view of the small town. It was pretty
spectacular. A door met the end of the staircase. It was slightly ajar. A
dim light shone through the gap. Why had Clay come up here and not told me?
Did I want to know?
       I stepped up and walked along the little corridor before the door,
which I pushed open a fraction more.
       Clay was sitting on the end of his bed, his head in his hands. His
leg bounced up and down nervously. Slight groans of frustration muffled out
from his hands. The room looked to be big, but I couldn't tell in the
semi-darkness. One lamp out of sight from my angle gave only a little light
to the room. I watched him for a minute or so in the same agitated
state. Something was definitely wrong.
       "Clay?" I knocked on the door. Either he didn't hear me or he
didn't want to. I opened it and took a few steps toward him. "Clay?"
I repeated.
       His body twisted quickly to identify the intruder.
       "Sorry, I thought you heard me..." I stated.
       "It's ok. I was just thinking about something and didn't hear
you." He didn't look at me when he spoke. He pulled away from my face as
soon as he realised who walked in.
       "Clay, something is really not right with you."
       "I'm fine." His tone was more aggressive than he meant it to
be. "I'm fine, Jacob," he repeated more calmly yet still not looking
at me.
       "Clay, I'm not an idiot. You haven't been yourself since... You
haven't been yourself for a while," I corrected myself, not wanting to
draw attention to the shower scene. "You look unhappy at school when
you're with your friends, you didn't say a word at football training today,
you ring me out of the blue and then you sneak up to your room when you say
you're going to grab something from the kitchen?" He shook his head
slightly as I listed his strange behaviour.
       "Look!" He half shouted at me as he got to his feet to finally
face me. He just stood, staring at me. His eyes were...
       His eyes have always looked intense. Kind but mysterious. Thoughtful
and deep. The pupils are difficult to distinguish from the dark brown
colour of the iris. They reminded me of the Minstrels sweets; the shape and
colour. But now, there was an even deeper intensity to them. A flood of
fear and anxiety. They looked like they could belong to a lost little
boy. At the same time they were determined...anger was folded into
them. He looked helpless. He looked strong. He looked lost. He looked... I
can't even describe it.
       He continued his burning gaze, like he was looking into me...deep
inside. `Eyes are the window to the soul'. The old adage seemed to ring
clear at that exact moment.
       I was just about to pull away when he stepped forward quickly, took
hold of my face and pulled me into his own, embracing me with his lips.
       He kissed me.
       When he let go after only a few seconds I stepped backwards, feeling
both shocked and dizzy from his sudden grasp. He continued to stare at
me...tears, like watery crystals, shone brightly in the dim light as they
slid down his desperate face. His eyes broke with the knowledge of what he
had done. He looked wounded...my expression of horror did nothing to help
matters. I couldn't say anything. I could barely breathe.
       Before I knew what was happening, his bathroom door slammed shut as
he locked himself in. I didn't even see him move- it was as if he was there
one minute and gone the next.
       A few minutes later, after he stopped punching the wall, kicking the
wall, head-butting the wall, I heard him slump down to the floor. He
wouldn't open the door. I didn't ask him to. I could hear his gentle
crying. But all I could do was stand there, breathless, exasperated and
dizzy. I finally made my way to the bedroom door, headed down the three
flights of stairs and headed out the front door.
       The titanic slab of wood closed behind me just as Ryan Reynolds'
character pulled out the plugs of the two mobsters in the hospital.
       The screen faded to black.



Before I leave you, I wanted to once again recommend:

OPERATION: COLLEGE QUARTERBACK

Hot sex scenes and an amazing storyline with incredible characters. My
favourite.

/nifty/gay/college/operation-college-quarterback/

FALLING FOR A STRAIGHT GUY

A great, slow paced story about a young, very likable guy. I edit this
story now.

/nifty/gay/highschool/falling-for-a-straight-guy/

QUARTERBACK WITH THE EMERALD EYES

The longest story I ever read with on Nifty with constant new storylines to
keep you entertained! It will make you yell out "Oh, God, WHY NOT ME?!"
many times! Awesome!

/nifty/gay/highschool/quarterback-with-the-emerald-eyes/

HOUSE PARTY

I just started reading this one today and it's really good. The characters
are some of my favourites.

/nifty/gay/highschool/house-party/

Let me know what you think of them! And my own of course!

 Response to mac_manap@msn.com
Personal replies will be sent a.s.a.p.

Thanks again.

H.Mac.