David Fields dropped off the bus into the school parking lot, Jessica Tate trailing behind. The couple spilled into the pool of students who were already breaking into their own cliques, hanging until rides home arrived. David watched Kevin Crowley and Henry Guerts peel off from the group, heading into the shadowed entrance where the dirtbags congregated during lunch. Kevin leaned back against the metal door, thrust his denimed hips forward and ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair.

“Can’t you come to Peter’s?” Jessica wove her plump fingers between David’s clammy ones. He looked at her hand abstractly, trying to feel her through his benumbed skin. He squeezed her hand instead, knowing it was expected.

“I can’t. My father…” allowed her to fill in the blank. The boy shrugged, hoping that the threat of his boorish father was enough of a reason to get out of the party. He looked over her shoulder and watched Kevin knock two cigarettes out of a pack of Marlboros, light them both and pass one to his sidekick like a novice Cary Grant. The boys shared a laugh, Kevin holding his stomach as if to restrain the hilarity from overcoming him. David was sure the joke was on him. He stared at Henry until he got a “fuck you” glare in response. David turned away and furtively scanned the parking lot for his dad’s car.

Jessica squeezed his hand in reply, raised her eyebrows on coquettish cue. She purred, breathy and soft. “Are you sure you can’t come, Dy-Dy? Just for a little bit?” She swung his arms out playfully, tugging his fingers, pressing her breasts into his thin chest.

David allowed his arms to go rubbery, pretended to find her entertaining, watched her old boyfriend watch the two of them. He forced a smile, then relaxed and gave her a real one. He blinked rapidly, trying to find the right words to escape her invitation without the inevitable drama. He yawned, muttered sleepily about a morning exam, then shrugged, casually disengaging his hands from hers. “I can’t. Really.” Kevin and Henry huddled over the glowing cherries of their cigarettes, their faces in neon-stained chiaroscuro. He worried what they conspired over, certain that his fate was being decided, revenge for dating Kevin’s ex.

His girlfriend pouted, a hard glimmer sparking her eyes. Jessica slipped her arms around him. “Can I change your mind?” She was the same height as him, which he found disarming. Shouldn’t girls be smaller? Yet it felt natural to loop his arms around her back without stooping over. He set his chin on her shoulder and watched Kevin, the parking lot lights spinning his hair into gold. Does he smell like cigarettes? He wondered dreamily. Does he smell like Henry?

“I can’t. I promised my dad,” he mouthed, watching Kevin’s lanky frame rearrange itself against the door. His eyes rode along the inseam of his jeans, contemplated the worn fabric at his crotch. David hugged Jessica tightly, wanting something warm and firm in his arms instead of yielding flesh.

“You never want to spend any time with me,” she complained, a quiet demand in her voice, foreshadowing a storm. “You haven’t even kissed me.”

“What?” David inched away, keeping his arms locked around her. He sensed her playing her part, this pretense of dating, but understood he had his own role to play. He briefly wondered if the rumors were true, if Jessica had laid almost every boy in his class, including Kevin, and that he was the last holdout. He envied her for reasons he couldn’t fathom.

“I mean, you haven’t kissed me. Not even once.” She smiled playfully, her lips pushed out in full pout. He looked at her, concerned that he didn’t want to kiss her. “I don’t think you even like me.” Her eyes threw down the gauntlet.

“Of course I like you. Lots,” David trilled, taking both their hands in the air, doing a stationary dance. “I just…”

“Kiss me then.” A contralto challenge.

“But everyone is…” David rocked his head back and forth, taking in the students who remained in minor constellations surrounding them, finding Kevin Crowley in apogee. She began to pull away, but he snapped her back and rushed in with his lips.

Their teeth clashed at first, then David closed his eyes and gave into the tickle of delicate flesh, remembering having watched Kevin and Jessica kiss only weeks before, imagined his lips touching hers. Did his tongue root in her mouth like a blind explorer to wrestle with this alien muscle? Did his dick harden and press up against her? Did he think about fucking her, riding his slim hips against hers? Had her mouth been on his cock, burrowing into his pubic hair? David opened his eyes, stared at Kevin beyond the veil of Jessica’s dark hair, putting him here, in his place, allowing Kevin to kiss his girlfriend. He felt Kevin invade his body, felt the muscular torso fill his skinny one, felt their cocks overlap as they pressed together into the heat of her body.

And then David was Jessica, Kevin kissing him, Kevin’s hands running down his back to his ass, pulling him closer, wrapping his sinewy arms around David and squeezing him so tight that they could barely breathe. His own cock struggled against its counterpart, four thin layers of fabric separating them. Kevin’s hands were everywhere at once; an electric burn igniting his flesh.

Someone shouted. “Woo-hoo! Go, David!” The spell broken. The boy stumbled backward, his erection tented painfully in his faded jeans. Jessica blinked, flushed, laughed. “Ohmygosh,” he apologized. “I’m so sorry.”

“Did you just come?” She laughed in twisted merriment, pointed at the stain spreading across the front of his jeans. “You’re fucking kidding, me, right?”

David turned and saw Kevin and Henry clapping, shouting that they should get a room. Jessica moved away, brushing her hand over her own crotch nervously, as if sweeping ants off of her lap, leaving David in a spotlight all his own. He stared at the awkward snarl of her lips, then at Kevin laughing, a burning cigarette falling from his thin lips. Jessica merged with a group of girls, giggling and pointing at David as he backed up, slamming into the grill of the heated yellow bus. The driver hit the horn and David turned and ran across the empty parking lot, the flurry of laughter growing louder in the distance, as he sprinted into the dark night, vowing to never, ever return.

 

© 2008 Christopher Stone

Christopher Stone has been published online in a number of irreputable venues. He is currently developing interactive and multi-media poetry and fiction, finding a way to merge his love of words and the internet into one format. He's looking for a boyfriend, you game?