Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2006 01:49:21 -0400 From: Remy Subject: Physics of Infatuation Chpt. 2 I waited for the erection to subside and opened the door, "How goes it?" "Not complaining," he said walking into the kitchen, "brought some pizza and a beer." I couldn't help but think that this was turning into one huge cliche. But so be it. "Thanks for the food," what else could I say? "No problem." "Let's get started with the studying and see what we can do," I said. We sat down at the couch and pulled up the coffee table cracking open the class book. He looked at the doodles all over my pages and raised his eyebrow at me. "Sue me, I'm an art major," I grinned back at him. He flipped open the box of pizza and basically swallowed a whole piece while rummaging through his backpack for his notebooks. I want to say that I was a bit disturbed, but I couldn't help but smile, a little macho maleness at its best. "So where should we begin?" "Well, I got a 20 on the last test," he popped open a beer, "would have been a 40-something, but somebody fucked up the scale." I had to look away, "So everybody knows about that huh?" "Yeah, the little blond in class mentioned something about running you down with her car," he said with a smirk. "I'm sure daddy would pay to bury the body for her." He flipped open his notebook, "Basically I have no idea what I'm doing," he revealed, "I suck at math and I have no clue why we're supposed to be doing what we're doing." "So basically you're clueless," he shot me a look, "I mean that in the most innocent way possible." The next four hours we went over chapter-by-chapter, problem-by-problem. He wasn't bad at it; he just didn't understand the logic behind what we were supposed to be doing. I had to take everything and somehow apply it to the everyday world so he could understand. The pizza vanished and he was finished with half the twenty-four pack pretty quick as we worked our way through the book. My head was hurting at this point; I couldn't handle staring at this anymore, "I need a break." "How the hell do you know all this," he asked. "I took six math classes in four years in high school and advanced physics. I don't know how I do it, I guess I'm one of those idiot savants." "So you're a geek." Eye roll. I looked at him, "If I'm a geek, that makes you the jock?" "Sure," he said, "I wound up at this place because of sports. I was trying out for pro-football and busted my kneecap at camp. I was hoping it would heal up so I could play again, but it looks like education is the way to go." "So you are a jock." It was his turn to roll his eyes, "I'm working on one degree in computer engineering and a second in criminal justice at the moment," he smiled as my mouth dropped, "I just don't like science." I grabbed the last beer and popped open while we started talking about our histories. I was a reformed college dropout working towards my degree in art for who knows what. Chaz was working towards becoming a network security guy at some big time corporation as his alternative to the big leagues. He was from California and staying here with some relatives while he finished his degree. I couldn't help but look away as he told me about his high school sweetheart and how they were engaged and she was waiting for him to come back from the east coast so they could get married. Thankfully he didn't ask me about my love life and I decided not to bother offering up any of it. We continued to chat for the next hour about everything in our lives like we were old friends. We finally started talking about movies and our mutual love for odd movies that made you think. "Want to pop something in?" I asked. "Sure," he said, "Doesn't look my friends are going to call tonight so I haven't gotten anything else going on." We put in a movie and I sat back on the couch and within minutes fell asleep again. I woke up to the sound of Chaz groaning and looked at him sitting on the floor looking over his Physics book. His back was too me so I could just watch him as he did more studying. It was cute; he really was determined to get a decent grade in this class. I kind of admired his perseverance. "Any luck?" He jumped a little at the sound of my voice, "Kinda," he said, "Do you always fall asleep in the opening credits?" I saw the TV was showing the ending credits to the movie, "What can I say," I sat up, "You just take it out of me." I was ready to crawl back to bed and call it a night, "I think it's time for me to crash," I said standing up. He gave me that look, the one that says, "You're in college, stop being a pansy and wake the hell up." Yeah, I'm boring, what can I say? "You mind if I crash here? There's no way I'm driving home," he said as he nodded to the nicely assorted beer bottles on the floor. "No wonder you can't do physics, you're drunk!" I laughed at him. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he said giving me that killer smile. "Yeah, you can crash on the couch. Just let me go get some blankets," it wasn't that cold, but I was trying to be polite. I wandered into my bedroom and grabbed a blanket and some pillows from the closet. I couldn't help the look on my face when I walked back into the living room and saw him dropping his jeans and talking off his shirt. The fantasy hadn't been too far off, light hair on his chest that lead down to the shorts and his legs were like tree stumps. "Here you go." "Thanks," he took the blankets and sat on the couch. I walked into the kitchen to grab some water and when I returned I couldn't help but laugh. He was a couple inches taller than my 6'4" and looked ridiculous on my futon/couch. "Man, this is hysterical, and I'm usually the one complaining about being too tall. You can't be comfortable." "I'll be fine, I've been in worse." I tried to think of a logical reason to keep chatting with him half dressed but realized that I might just slip on the drool. I headed to the bedroom and shut the door and flipped on the light. I went about my nightly routine and finally undressed and a few minutes later crawled into bed. I was in the middle of a debate on if I was too tired to masturbate when there was a knock on the door, "Alec, mind if I open the door?" I flipped the covers over myself, "What's up?" "Yeah, so I lied. The knee is going to kill me in the morning, mind if I bunk with you for the night?" I would have protested but I was tired and he was leaning against the doorframe, apparently drunker than I had originally estimated. Okay, either I was about have the most frustrating night of sleep or pray to god that this turned into one of those drunken stories I could cherish for the rest of my life. "Come on." I patted the best next to me and he tossed down his pillows and fell on the bed. He started to pull back the covers when I intervened, "I have to warn you, I don't sleep with anything on." I could hear his smirk, "I'm usually the same way, but I don't want you jumping me in the middle of the night." Did he know? Was I that obvious? Probably. "Shut the hell up and go to sleep." He was under the covers and asleep in minutes. I however was not falling asleep anytime soon. College fantasy. College fantasy. It's the only thing I could think of. At some point he rolled onto his side and pressed up against me, spooning against my back. Good fucking lord, this was cruel and unusual. His arm wrapped around my chest and pulled me closer. My body tensed against his touch. As much as I was waiting for the hand to go lower and be another guilt free seduction from alcohol I could hear his breathing change into that sleeping rhythm. No fantasy tonight, but somehow, being wrapped up in an almost-pro football player's arms had it's on pleasant side. After an hour of feeling his chest rise against my back I passed out curled up against his body. Part 3 will come shortly. Feel free to email any comments or suggestions to excalbre@email.com