Date: Wed, 18 Aug 2010 15:08:47 -0400
From: Jade <phantomscorpio77@gmail.com>
Subject: Gay/High School : If You Could Read My Mind 12

Copyright © 2010 by Jaden Lane, All Rights Reserved.  No part of this book
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This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblances to any person, place, or
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between young men.  Do not read if you find that objectionable or if it is
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>>).:.(<<


If You Could Read My Mind


Neville is taking a break outside on the back loading dock and sneaking
food to a stray cat when Josh comes walking up the ally for his dinner
shift at the diner.  The cat scurries away when it hears Josh approach.
Tossing a remaining slice of ham in the snow for the skittish cat, Neville
follows Josh inside, trying to convince him that everything he said a few
nights ago about his family and being gay were just lies, "Uh, Josh, about
what I told you the other night, I was lying and trying to push you away
again because I was mad at you."

Bailey smiles at Josh, coming in the back entrance and removing his coat as
he turns for the storage room, giving Bailey a wave as he and Neville pass
by.  Bailey normally has Sundays off, and this one has been a particularly
long one, serving the downtown residents that have been shut in for a
couple days by the weather.  He's happy his shift is done as soon as Josh
changes and takes over.

"You'd have a better chance of convincing me if Bailey and you weren't
sporting matching hickeys today, and if you weren't dressed in his duds,"
Josh points out in the storage room as he grabs his work clothes from his
gym bag.

Neville looks away as Josh toes off his shoes, "Oh.  Never mind then.
Please just promise me again that you'll keep what I've told you a secret?"

Unbuckling his belt, Josh answers, "Maybe.  I've come up with another
condition that you have to agree to first."

The blackmail makes Neville turn to Josh who's stepping out of his jeans.
In a defeated tone he questions, "What's the new condition?"

After pulling his shirt over his head Josh replies, "The gym.  No one else
is serious about it anymore, and your pipe cleaners need some meat on them.
All the same, somehow you always surprise me with what strength you have.
I get the feeling you can hack the weights I lift."

Neville purposely looks Josh's nearly naked body over as he steps into old
jeans that he only uses for work, "Fine.  If you want me all buff then I
guess I have no choice.  Or do you just want me looking up your shorts to
boost your ego?"

"Geez Nev, I get that you like guy's junk, but stop hitting on mine.  I
actually just want a weight partner that won't flake out on me and might be
able to keep up with me.  Even if you are gay," Josh says with a touch of
scorn as he slips into a shirt he's also designated for work.

While Josh is stepping into a pair of work-destroyed shoes, Neville
concedes, "Fine, blackmail me.  I thought we were friends."

"You're always so fucking difficult!  How do you want me to put it?  Would
you be my friend and help me out at the gym?" Josh angrily snaps at him,
while hanging his street clothes from hooks on the back of the storage room
door.  Fully changed, he grabs an apron off the laundry shelf and brushes
by Neville, leaving him smarting, "If you say no, we're still friends and
I'm still not going to tell anyone what you told me the other night."

Bailey is already in the store room before Josh even has the apron tied up,
ready to pounce on his boyfriend.

Neville casts Bailey a sullen look, "Give me a minute?  I just pissed him
off and I want to make it right.  I'll catch you upstairs in a few?"

Bailey leans in for a kiss before rounding the corner and heading upstairs
with a smile.

"I'm such a jerk, sorry," Neville says to Josh in the kitchen, after taking
a moment to regain his composure in the storage room.

Not bothering to look up, Josh corrects him, "No, sometimes you're a
downright asshole."

"I know.  Look about the gym, I," Neville starts.

Josh cuts him off, "Yes or no?  Are you capable of yes or no, or do you
always have to flex your windbag and qualify everything?  Anyway, hurry up.
Mrs. Regan said that couple that always sit in the corner under the
staircase are here and waiting for you.  God, it's going to be a long
night, I need another cigarette already."

"Oh, I guess I'm still working.  I'll get to the O'Keefe's in a second, you
might as well start their smothered roast beef sandwiches now.  But will
you just listen to me?  Yes.  I'll work out with you," Neville says and
heads for the dining room.  Inside he adds, `Although I don't know why.
You damn well know I fantasize about you and you're not exactly down with
it.  I can't stop my eyes from seeing what they'll see.  How long until you
catch me looking and kick my butt?  Why do you care about me so much all of
a sudden?  I'd ask you, but it would just be blowing my windbag in your
eyes.'

>>).:.(<<

Neville finally finishes work when the diner closes at eight, as it
customarily does now on Sundays.  He has a lot on his mind and can't wait
to see Crystal to tell her that his impending fatherhood was just a close
scare.  Staring out the window at a downtown that is glittering from
streetlamps, Neville catches Brooke's reflection in the glass.

Turning to her he offers, "You can keep all my tips today if you can do
something for me."

"Uh-oh, this ought to be good," Brooke says with intrigue.

"Uh, I think I've seen you drive your mom's SUV to the grocery store
before.  You can drive, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I told you about Crystal before, and how I only get to see her when
she's down here on Sundays?  Is there any way I can con you with my tips to
drive me out there now, and get you to finish the clean-up when you get
back?"

"What?"

"I know, it's asking a lot.  I have some stuff to tell her, you might know
what, and I just really wanted to see her so she knows I'm safe."

"In this weather?  I don't know," Brooke contemplates.

"Please?  I have no chance of walking and getting there before midnight if
I even make it, the way the sidewalks and shoulders are so completely iced
over.  Normally it's only like a ten minute drive to the truck stop though,
so maybe fifteen or twenty minutes if you go slowly.  And cars seemed to be
doing fine on the streets all afternoon now that they have sand out."

"Fine, but I don't want whatever that old couple gave you today for a tip."

"Shampoo this week."

"Weird.  Why do they do that?"

"I don't know for sure, but it saves me a trip from buying it myself,"
Neville says.  He's contemplates, `It's true I suppose.  I don't one
hundred percent know for certain why.  Ninety-nine percent maybe, so it's
technically not a lie to you Brooke.  But if you really want to know; when
I couldn't afford even food from you when you guys opened up here, I'd been
stealing things from their store that I couldn't pick up elsewhere.

I mean yeah, the odd hockey bag has a toothbrush or a razor in it, but
that's just beyond my personal limits.  I'll wear worn clothes off other
guys because I have no choice, right down to socks and underwear, but I
won't stoop to brushing my teeth with their nastied-up toothbrushes or risk
nicking myself with their used razors.  So you see, it was mostly
toothbrushes I stole from the pharmacy, but only when I had spare change to
buy toothpaste.  Well, sometimes razors too, but usually I lifted those at
Wal-Mart.  I figure they knew.  Then when I got a job with you guys I
stopped stealing from them altogether.

I guess she knew I was going to steal those cold pills but I couldn't do it
to them anymore.  I went back when I was feeling better and happily bought
everything I could need, so that for once not everything I had was stolen.
That's when she must have kept the receipt of everything I prefer, so now
they supply me weekly with one of the cheap necessities.  Shampoo,
deodorant, a tooth brush and toothpaste, soap and a shower sponge, all on a
four week rotation, and candy that I give to Bethany or keep for Crystal if
they come in for a second visit in the week.  I know it works out to more
than what a tip would be in money and I really appreciate it.  I buy my own
razors from Wal-Mart so they don't start tipping me with those expensive
things too.

So, I can't exactly tell you they give me these things so I don't have to
buy or steal them.  It probably won't be a Kodak moment from a very special
episode of 7th Heaven when you guys find out the root cause of the weird
tips is that I used to steal from them.  You'll be worried I'm stealing
from you too.  Then one day someone will realize you go through way more
crackers than you should, and that they disappear in my pockets and my
book-bag, which I put on the shelf right next to the boxes of them.  Then
you'll notice it's not mice stealing the little end pieces of cheese, and
so on.'

Noticing Brooke looking at him, he realizes she said something in response
but he doesn't know what, "Sorry, tuned out there for a moment."

"Normally it takes people years of practice to block me out like that,"
Brooke kids as she hands Neville nearly forty dollars, "I should keep your
tip money for that alone, but here's your share.  Help me finish up here
first.  Chop-chop!  It's the stop just outside the city where the
Trans-Canada heads towards the Confederation Bridge, right?"

"Uh, yeah.  That's the one.  You're awesome, thanks so much!"

>>).:.(<<

After getting dropped off by Brooke, Neville waits until her taillights are
gone from sight before starting to look for Crystal's truck.  Going through
the rows of trucks that gather overnight before making their way mainland
on Monday mornings, Neville franticly checks and rechecks for her truck.
Thinking maybe she has a rental, he cruises through the truck-stop diner
for Crystal.  Back outside, he checks once more before losing hope.  He
always feared this day would come.  Looking around, he heads around the
side of the building to get out of the wind and think.

Sitting on an oil drum and contemplating the long walk back home, Neville
is startled when Corey Duggan approaches him, "Hey Bag-boy.  I didn't see
your mom's rig tonight, dude."

"Uh, thanks," Neville replies to his schoolmate without looking up.

At school the most Corey would normally say to Neville would be some sort
of taunt or put-down to fit in with his friends.  One on one, he actually
feels a little sorry for him so he adds, "There's another truck that has
her load this week.  I recognised the trailer when he filled up.  That
black one with the running lights off over there."

"Oh.  Thanks."

Turning to walk away now that his good deed is done, Corey responds without
looking back at Neville, "Yeah."

"Hey," Neville calls to Corey's back, "Was it a guy named Andre by any
chance?"

Turning around and walking backwards to the diesel pumps, he answers, "I
don't think so.  Dude definitely had a different last name from you is all
I remember for sure.  He didn't much look like you either.  Michel
something, maybe?  I don't know.  Sorry Bag-boy."

"Thanks," Neville says, not loud enough to be heard.  He does nod his head
at Corey in thanks, however.

Approaching the truck that his classmate pointed out, Neville has a bad
feeling about everything.  He knocks a bunch of times at the rig before a
trucker one truck over shares that the driver is inside eating.  Neville
stands up from the running boards when the driver returns to his rig after
almost an hour of waiting.

"Excuse me sir, Crystal Reilly; is she okay?"

The driver responds in French.  Speaking strictly in French, Neville learns
that Crystal has in fact had another health emergency.  Nothing life
threatening for now, or so the driver heard, but she needs some time off to
get herself together.  Neville realizes that he was right about her
neglecting her diabetes.  As a single and slightly overweight woman in her
early forties she seems to be giving up in his eyes.  After thanking the
driver for the information he starts the long walk home over the icy
terrain.

He thinks back to a period almost a year ago when Crystal first got
diagnosed with diabetes.  She was off then for almost two months.

>>).:.(<<

Almost a year ago in May of 1999, near the end of Grade 10, Neville is
beginning to feel that the time of year is unlucky for him.  Having made
his way to the truck stop on a warm evening, he climbs Crystal's truck and
opens the passenger door as always.  The response from inside startles him
and makes him jerk backwards.  Losing his balance, he pushes off the truck
in his loose fitting and worn shoes, ending up on the packed dirt and
gravel parking lot in just his mis-matched socks.  Ready to skedaddle once
he recovers his shoes, the occupant of Crystal's truck swings the door wide
open and calls his name.

It turns out the driver, Andre, is a long-time acquaintance and former
co-worker of Crystal's from a previous employer.  He breaks the news that
Crystal has had a minor accident, falling down some stairs at her
apartment.  The fall is the result of a black-out.  The blackout, it's
discovered, is symptomatic of her diabetes, which is discovered in the
hospital as a result of a routine check up after her fall.  Something close
to shock sets in as Neville realizes he may lose the only real person in
his life.  All he carries from the conversation is that Crystal fell victim
to a real-life vicious circle, but is going to be fine.

Crystal has sub-contracted her work to Andre until she recovers and gets
her diabetes settled.  Part of her agreement with Andre is that on his runs
down to Charlottetown, she wants him to buy dinner for Neville every week
with money she provides, and to report back to her as to how he is doing.
On his fifth week filling in for Crystal, Neville meets Andre with most of
his belongings, one of which is a report card with an average grade of 97.5
percent.  With the school year now finished, Neville is adamant on Andre
bringing him back to Montreal with him so that he can visit with Crystal.

Neville's hope is to help Crystal get better and move in with her
permanently.  He sees her as a mother figure and has developed a strong
dependence to her.  Feeling his French is at least passable, if not
adequate, he wants nothing more than to live with her and go to school and
have a part time job on the side.  Essentially he wants a normal kid's
life.

Within days he finds Crystal's hospitality a little cold and disingenuous.
While she struggles daily with what and when she should be eating to
control her diabetes, her mood sours even more.  She really likes Neville,
but having him show up out of the blue to share her living space stresses
her out.  Her one room apartment is not built for visitors, and certainly
not for permanent guests.  She does allow him to share her small quarters,
but worries that he can't live that way for long.  He's a teenage boy,
something she's not in any way prepared to deal with full time.

Numerous attempts to get a job fail for Neville, so once Crystal returns to
her truck runs he turns to what he's now perfecting.  He's an expert at
seeing opportunity for petty theft of food and clothes, and plies his skill
at both often.  To pass the time he resorts to panhandling for actual
money.

The summer is never lucrative for him, but worsens as it progresses.  It
seems that no matter where he tries to panhandle in the downtown core he
gets sent away by foot-patrol police officers.  On the suggestion of one
sympathetic businessman he tries the old-town part of the city where
tourism is more prevalent.  He does better in this area but some days he
gets chased after by a group of teenagers.  Eventually they start bothering
him on a daily basis.  While he often manages to evade or escape them by
staying in crowds, a few times he is cornered and is left with nothing to
even ride to the subway back to Crystal's.

While he learns the city, Crystal puts off enrolling him in school.  She
loves him in her way, but in her heart of hearts she doesn't want full
responsibility of him.  Seeing his troubles only strengthens her resolve.
The last straw for her is when he describes almost getting caught and
arrested for stealing a bag of buns and a bottle of juice off an unattended
delivery truck.  He's never stolen from her, at home or from her truck, but
she's worried he's become too delinquent for her to possibly handle.

Telling Neville that the school requires his real documentation, and
therefore his identity will be known, Crystal convinces him that his best
option is to return to the little life he's carved out for himself in
Charlottetown.  It pains her to lie, but she truly does believe he's better
off as he's been living the past year on his own than he is with her.

Neville recognises that she's lying, but he also understands her motives
and that she truly does think it's best for him.  He's watched her struggle
to let him stay with her.  He's watched her struggle with the burden of
deciding what is best.  Instead of fighting her, he lies and says he agrees
that going back to Charlottetown for grade 11 is the best option for him.

It's the only time he's been disappointed in Crystal.  He turns the
disappointment unto himself as he realizes that Crystal is just not
emotionally or financially able to be his full time guardian.  Two weeks
before school resumes, Neville returns to once again take up occupancy in
the back corner of the arenas' storage room.

>>).:.(<<

Currently reminiscing in his mind as he walks back from the truck stop,
Neville reflects, `I guess it's also a good decision this time that I
didn't run off to Montreal to get out of the Regan's lives.  Too many
people along Rue Sainte-Catherine may still recognise me dining and dashing
from their diners and restaurants, or grabbing food and running out of the
fast food joints without paying.  And I never did manage to find the gay
village either!'

His legs are sore, his face and feet are frozen, his energy is low when he
finds himself still blocks from the diner he works at.  His home is twice
as far away.  Every step he takes towards home becomes a mental struggle.
Part of him just wants to get home, part of him wants to not walk the extra
blocks.  Exhaustion wins out and leads him up the fire escape to Bailey's
bedroom door.

He tries knocking, but either his knuckles are too frozen to rouse Bailey
or he's a sound sleeper.  Moving across the landing, Neville leans against
the tiled windows to stare at his boyfriend.  Closing his eyes for a
moment, he falls asleep against the window.  A gust of wind jolts him awake
moments later.  Frozen to the core, he decides to try the door once more
before he has to make his way back to the arena.  His hand grasps the
doorknob as he steadies himself on the slippery metal landing.  As he's
about to try knocking again he discovers that the doorknob has turned in
his hand.

A split second decision later, he closes the door behind himself and kicks
off his shoes.  He removes his coat as quiet as possible and hangs it over
the doorknob.  Circling Bailey's bed, he stops at the hamper and retrieves
Bailey's sleepwear from the last two nights.  Based on information from
Brooke, it doesn't surprise him to see Bailey is sleeping in the very same
unwashed shorts and top that he wore to bed himself for the past two
nights.  Forgoing modesty, he strips out of his sodden clothes, borrowed
from Bailey, and sets them aside once he's in Bailey's sleeping pants.

After rummaging for a sweater in the hamper, Neville sets the alarm clock
on his digital watch for 5 am.  That, he hopes, will give him enough time
to hit the arena and have a shower before he has to get ready for school.
He snags a pillow from the bed, gently prying it from Bailey's grip.  The
last thing he does before lying down on the sofa-bed that is currently set
up as a couch, is to kiss Bailey on the lips.  Bailey instinctively kisses
back in his sleep.

Neville wakes shortly after dozing off.  Parts of his body are complaining
to his brain as he thaws out in the warm room.  Uncomfortable and moving
around a lot, Neville decides to sprawl out on the floor on the other side
of Bailey's bed in hopes of getting some restful sleep, while not being
visible from his hallway door.  The wooden floor is hard and cool, but
makes no sound when Neville moves about.  He also thinks the lack of
comfort provided by the hard floor helps a little to lessen the sensations
associated with coming out of mild hypothermia.

Neville starts to snore when he finally does manage to find sleep.  Rare
for him, it's enough to raise Bailey from his sleep.  Bailey creeps over to
the side of his bed ever so slowly so that he can get a glimpse of his
intruder before deciding how to deal with the person.  With the streetlight
from the alley that shines against his ceiling and somewhat illuminates his
room, he's surprised to see Neville asleep and shivering on his floor.

Neville's eyes shoot open upon hearing a shift in the bedsprings.  When
their eyes lock, Bailey reaches his arm down and grabs a fistful of the
hoodie that Neville is wearing.  Gently pulling, he indicates without words
for Neville to join him in the bed.

Neville is emotionally and physically drained when Bailey tentatively
kisses him.  Knowing Bailey is waiting for a response from him, Neville
gives in to both Bailey and his desires.  Parts of Neville's body are still
numb as they kiss and entwine their bodies together.  His penis however is
not, and it reacts to the lust coursing through him.  After adjusting
himself a few times he lets his hand wanders over to Bailey's erection and
starts feeling and stroking it through the shorts.  Taking that to mean
Neville is ready for the next step, Bailey leans back.

Shortly after things start heating up, Bailey pulls his top off and tosses
it to the floor.  Neville laughs at his pragmatic thoughts, `I don't know
why you took off your top.  The shorts are what's in the way.  Here, let's
do something about that!  Wait.  What am I thinking?  Can I touch your
privates?  Should I ask permission?  You don't mind me groping you through
the shorts right now.  No, we're definitely both enjoying where my hand is.
This is just too cool!  This is just way too amazing!  I want to feel it
for real.'

Before Bailey can settle back into a comfortable position he gasps as
Neville's hand slides up a leg of the shorts and makes skin on skin contact
for the first time, gently but firmly taking hold of him.  Neville starts
stroking his boyfriend, barely able to contain his excitement.  Bailey
responds by trying to fish a hand under the waistband of the track pants
Neville has borrowed.  He stops short when Neville tugs at his shorts and
gets them halfway to his knees in one motion.  He takes the hint and looses
the shorts so that Neville has unobstructed access to his groin.

For a moment he just stares and smiles.  He really does think Bailey is
hot.  He likes him in clothes, but the attraction turns to desire when he's
naked.  Drinking in Bailey's nude form makes the blood surge harder into
his own erection.  His gaze zeros in on the cock jutting out of his
boyfriend's trimmed crotch.  Well read and with the command of an extensive
vocabulary well beyond his years, Neville would be short of words to
describe the splendour and gravity of all the emotions he's feeling.

Rolling back, Neville hooks his hands under his own waistband and gets the
track pants to his feet.  As uncoordinated as it looks, he manages to kick
them off and shed the hooded sweater at roughly the same moment, letting
both fly wherever they may.  He gets right back to quietly, but
fervourously, stroking his boyfriend.

As exhausted as he is, when Bailey's kitchen hardened fingers close around
his own leaking member Neville is already at the brink.  Feeling the
impending orgasm building within himself, he quickly removes Bailey's hand
and directs it towards his own member.

Neville bashfully explains, "Sorry, I'm like, one pump away because you're
too damn hot.  But your hand there is the most amazing thing I've ever
felt, next to yours in my hand."

Bailey gets the less than subtle hint that there will be no mutual play for
now, and goes to work on himself as they watch each other.  Neville tries
to hold off by not touching himself but the visual in front of him is too
much.  He's going to ejaculate whether he helps it along or not.  Giving in
to his inevitable orgasm, Neville gives Bailey quite a show.  Normally
quiet the rare times that he indulges himself, Bailey has to muffle him
with a pillow.  Basking in the afterglow once he's come down from his own
high, Neville watches as Bailey finishes the job that he started, joining
him in euphoric bliss.

"Wow," Bailey says with a huge smile.

Neville corrects, "Double wow!"

Bailey throws on his boxers that didn't make their way into the hamper
earlier and quickly washes off in the bathroom.  After ringing out the wash
cloth under hot water he brings it back to his room and hands it to
Neville.  Neville also cleans himself off and dresses while Bailey goes
outside for a cigarette.

Back in bed, both their minds are racing but not another word is spoken as
Bailey falls asleep, wrapped in Neville's embrace.  Kissing Bailey once
more now that he fast asleep, Neville murmurs, "I love you Bailey Regan."

>>).:.(<<

Waking to the first beeps of his watch alarm, Neville waits until Bailey's
sleep settles back to a slow rhythm of breathing before he gets out of bed.
Standing over the bed in the pants he's borrowed that now are suspiciously
low on his thighs, he watches Bailey sleep once more, `Oh Bailey you silly
goose, it was fun pretending to be asleep while you woke up and briefly
violated me later on, front and back with your curious hands.

Not sure how you believed I was asleep through it all, but whatever, it was
wild!  Play with my hole like that again and you better be ready to shove
something hard, awesome, and condom-clad in there; that was totally insane!
And still, you thought it somehow didn't wake me?  Damn, if I had let you
know I was awake I swear on my life I wouldn't still be a virgin.  At least
you stopped and apologised when you thought I wasn't waking up, even if it
was redundant because you thought I was asleep.

But seriously, pull my pants back up next time!  I would have but I fell
asleep for real while waiting for you to settle back down afterwards.  You
sure sounded like you had a good time with yourself; I wish I had opened my
eyes for the show.  At least you wiped me off again but how did you plan on
explaining me waking with my pants down?  And where do we go from here?
You're irresistible, and somehow I have to keep things from getting to
far.'

He quietly picks up the damp clothing that he wore yesterday and places it
in Bailey's hamper.  From Bailey's drawers Neville sneaks a pair of boxers
and socks, and stuffs them in the pouch of the hoodie he's wearing.  He
shoves his bare feet into his uncomfortable shoes and puts on his coat that
is mostly dry of his sweat inside from his long trek only hours ago.  He
stealthily slips out the door and down the fire escape to the loading dock
below.  Stopping only briefly in the ally to pet the stray cat he's
befriending, Neville makes his way to the arena in haste.

Arriving too late to sneak into his new home, he pulls out his equipment
bag from its hiding spot in his old bat-cave and dresses in a change room
next to it, joining the morning shinny players on the ice.  As he talks on
the bench to some of the men, he gets a sense that they all assume he is
Davis Millar's nephew, and an employee at the arena.  By the time everyone
hits the change rooms he lags behind them, waiting until he's the last one
to hit the showers.  All the men around him race to get dressed and head to
work while he takes his time.  Once he's dressed and the last of the
morning players has left, he risks sneaking across to his new home.  The
high school hockey team is now practising on the ice, but no one is sitting
or standing diagonally across from his door on the home team's bench to see
him slip into his new home.

Exhausted, he strips off the hoodie and track pants and sprawls out on the
bed he's fashioned out of goalie pads.  Even though it's nowhere near
Bailey's bed, it's pure bliss to him, so he immediately sits up to prevent
falling asleep.  Now in boxers and socks, he rummages through his clothes
to replace Bailey's sleeping pants and the hoodie he borrowed without
asking.  As he dresses, he realizes he forgot to move over his meagre store
of food, but can't risk it now.  Looking at his watch, he figures he has
five minutes before the team on the ice hits the showers, only enough time
to slip out of the arena.

He's tired and wants nothing more than to eat and sleep, but heads to the
school cafeteria first to take care of one need before camping out in the
school library until it's time to head to his first class.  Halfway through
his second morning class he privately asks his teacher to be excused,
citing a made-up doctor's appointment at noon.  He heads directly to the
hardware store a couple blocks away to get two keys cut for his new home.
The second one he intends to stash somewhere on Bailey's fire escape or
roof as a back-up.  He gets back to school just in time for lunch, where
Josh leads him to the weight room.

All afternoon he can't wait for the day to be over.  Then all that stands
in the way of his first night in his new bed is work.  At work he's
gracious and thankful to Bailey for letting him stay yet another night and
not pushing him as to why he showed up in the middle of the night.  Bailey
doesn't even give him a hard time for technically breaking in; instead
pointing out that now Neville knows his outside door is practically always
unlocked.  Just before midnight, after finally sneaking his way into his
home and returning the stolen key, Neville stretches out on his very own
new bed.  Too tired to do anything about his aroused state when thinking
about both he and Bailey possibly sleeping in each other's worn sleepwear
again, sleep promptly claims him.

>>).:.(<<

The next morning Neville gets up at the same time again in order to talk to
Davis, as the arena manager goes about his morning routine, "Davis, can we
talk?  I was exploring a bit and found a better place under the visitor's
bench in the equipment storage room.  Do you think I can move into there
instead?"

Davis grumbles, "I should have never shown that other kid your room.  He's
been gone for years and you've still got what, one more year of school to
go?  You're not even holding up your end of things.  Many a night lately
you've been forgetting your cleaning."

"You're right.  I've totally slacked off lately," Neville admits.

"You finally got a boyfriend?  That's where you go on the cold nights, ya?"

Neville blushes.

"I'll take that as a yes.  Here's the deal kid; 6 nights a week.  I know
it's asking a lot but so is letting you live here.  Deal?" Davis suggests.

Neville presses his luck, "Deal.  Oh, one more thing.  Most everyone thinks
I actually live across the street with you and work here anyways, so being
in here isn't that much of a stretch.  But I was hoping it would be okay
with you if I started playing shinny with the early morning crowd, or
sometimes with the late night crowd?"

"Knock yourself out kid.  Next time you think of it when the place is
empty, make yourself a nametag in the office so you look official."

"Awesome!  Thanks Davis," Neville enthuses.  He got everything he wanted
without having to really give up anything, `Cleaning the rooms at night so
that Davis can turn in earlier isn't much of a concession for having a
safely hidden home.  As far as homeless go, I have a sweet deal.  Compared
to the bridge under the train tracks, this place really is the Ritz
Carlton.  Heck, this place is the Taj Mahal compared to that cold and wet
bridge with its scary theives.  And I also got an even better idea from
talking to him!  If I have to move again, I'll move into his house.  I know
for a fact that it is actually his house provided to him as the park
groundskeeper and arena manager.  If he's hoarded so much junk that he
can't even live in it anymore he may never notice me if I have to shack up
in it!'

Neville races across the hall to his old hideout before Davis unlocks the
doors for the first shinny players.  By the time a couple faces from
yesterday join him in the change room, Neville has stashed his food
supplies on top of his new bed and is half dressed in his hockey equipment.

>>).:.(<<

Having played shinny to start the day for two days in a row, Neville again
is low on energy come lunch, "Not today Josh.  I'm going to have to ease
into this.  I played morning shinny yesterday and today and I'm wiped out.
Maybe we can do Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for now?"

"You just want to spend lunch with you-know-who," Josh teases.

"Yeah, that's definitely part of it, but I really mean it.  I'm wiped out.
I've had less than ten hours sleep in the last two days; I'm running on
empty here.  Only eight hours sleep actually."

"Alright.  So you're playing shinny without me?"

"Yeah.  I'd have called you to join, but they haven't run the phone line to
my new bedroom yet."

"Don't be snippy.  I invited you to play with the guys."

"Yeah and they had a lot of fun with that I'm sure.  Since then Corey
Duggan called me Bag-boy twice in one brief conversation, so that name's
started up again.  I thought they were actually being nice to me that day
too.  Speaking of which, people can see you talking to me."

"Good!  People can also see this too then," Josh says and initiates a
typically youthful male handshake before heading to the cafeteria,
"Tomorrow, Nev.  Every weightlifter needs a solid partner.  No excuses."

Pulling a cheese sandwich he made before school out of his backpack,
Neville smiles as he watches the cafeteria line.  Two people back from the
cashier is his boyfriend, smiling back at him in a mock-neck sweater and
his favourite pair of jeans that show off his ass so well.  Thinking back
to yesterday, his guess is that Brooke or Megan hid Bailey's hickey with
cover-up yesterday because it wasn't on display like his.  Thinking about
his own hickey, Neville's proud to wear it like a badge because it came
from Bailey.

[to be continued]

>>).:.(<<

I've published In This Cruel World!  It's available in paperback and e-book
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