Date: Sun, 27 May 2001 20:23:36 -0400 From: Nicholas Glenn Subject: Beta Male Part 2 Hey everyone, I want to thank you for the positive comments I've received on chapter 1. Once again, I just want to say that it will take (just a little bit) of time to build relationships before heading into wild sexual encounters. Some people I suppose enjoy empty characters and quickie encounters, I personally enjoy reading about characters I can identify with and watching them evolve into passion. Keep up the useful comments at cascade_nick@hotmail.com if you like chapter 2. Chapter 3 is only a few days away, I promise! Chapter 2 When I arrived at the hospital the staff was kind enough to avoid going to any particular rush in trying to help me. After waiting nearly an hour, they finally ran the tests. My parents showed up and were more concerned than they should have been. I was told that indeed I did have a mild concussion but that otherwise there were no signs of any permanent damage. However, there was a chance of some short-term memory loss and perhaps some disorientation and nausea over the next few days, so I would be best advised to go home and rest. When I protested about the time away from school that he was prescribing, my mother gave me one of those classic "you're lucky you didn't kill yourself" lines followed by some vague threat about killing me for almost killing myself and a scowl that could stop a charging rhino at a hundred paces. Oh what the hell, I thought, I had earned a vacation anyway. My parents drove me home after that, and, with my father returning to work my mother took the rest of the day off and switched into her Florence Nightengale persona. Bugging me every fifteen minutes and demanding to know how I was feeling, I soon wasn't feeling very well at all. When Nick showed up a little after two (he must have headed right over from school) I was relieved that I was being saved from my would-be savior. "Hey," he said heartily as he stepped through my door and into my bedroom. "Hey, what's up?" was all I could think to say. For some reason, I couldn't quite get my mind around why Nick was there at that point, so I wasn't exactly sure in my response. I struggled to get up to greet him but found myself dizzy and quickly thought better of it. "No, please don't get up, that's alright. I've had a concussion before and I know you'll be disoriented for a bit. Anyway, I brought your assignments from your teachers." Oh yeah, he had mentioned he was going to do that, hadn't he? That was nice of him, I thought. But wait, he was doing me a favor because he felt guilty, right? And why was that again... "Yeah, it's real funny actually. I visited the teachers you had on your schedule. They all looked like I had just told them their own child was trapped in a well, every one of them was so concerned about you. Now, I have four of those five teachers and I'm sure they don't even know my name. You always were a teacher's pet," he said with a playful smile across his face. Of course what he was saying was true. Me and Nick had been in school together since kindergarten, and I always had naturally fallen into the role of teacher's pet. What suddenly occurred to me though was that I had always thought of Nick as a jock. It was easy to do that, since he had always been so naturally athletic. But it now came to me that he took many of the same advanced classes that I did and must have done fairly well himself. He did have many of the same teachers I did and must have developed a good academic record along with his outstanding athletic records. Besides football (where he helped power our team last year to third in the State) he had also had some success in track (although I'm not even going to pretend I know how success is measured in track). Why had I only ever thought of Nick as an athlete first and a fellow student second, as if one who devotes so much time to athletics must be wholly ignoring their academic development. "There you go again!" Nick's voice suddenly brought me back from where I had drifted off to for a while. I had been doing it again, staring into his deep blue eyes. His face was so beautiful, of a fairly light Mediterranean complexion, with dark brown hair in a crew cut well-trimmed at the sides. But it was mostly the eyes. They blazed with such an intensity that I naturally wanted to look away from them but found myself unwilling - or perhaps unable - to do so. It was like staring into twin suns. Why had I never taken notice of these eyes before? Probably because I had only had a distant acquaintance with Nick. We ran with different circles of friends, he the popular athlete (with his fellow athletes) and me the ace student (with our own clique of elite students). Our paths hadn't ever crossed quite so much as they had in this, our final year of high school. "I'm sorry, I just lost myself again. I hadn't been feeling well all day, and now with my head I think it's making matters worse." Was I even believing myself at this point? I certainly was losing myself, that much must have been true. Nick had helped himself to a seat at this point (which somehow I hadn't noticed) and I saw that he was smiling. Not just a smirk, or an ordinary smile you give someone as a matter of courtesy, mind you. He was smiling at me broadly, with deep, gorgeous dimples on either side of his perfectly shaped mouth. His smile was absolutely symmetrical, and his teeth stunningly white. Staring at him like that, I noticed feelings stirring inside me. Was I becoming jealous of Nick? Am I the type of person that gets jealous? Why was he smiling at me like that? Why do people talk to themselves all the time and then pretend that that's a sign of lunacy, as if each and every one of us doesn't have something akin to a committee meeting going on in their heads at each and every moment? "No, you don't have to stop staring if you don't want to. You look cute when you're looking at me like that." I was sure my bruised brain was failing me at that point. There was absolutely no way that Nick had just called me cute. He was the star runningback for our football team, and besides, guys couldn't talk to each other like that. That wouldn't be normal, wouldn't be proper. That was definitely breaking the rules, wasn't it? Suddenly, a recent memory came full-force back to my mind. Nick had been waiting right by my locker when I ran into him, and there's no reason he should have been there. Or wasn't there? "Nick, can I ask you something?" The sound of silence returned my question. Now it seems it was Nick's turn to be staring at me, and even as he didn't answer my inquiry I noticed his eyes transfixed on my own. Finally I noticed a slight nod offered in my direction. "Why were you waiting for me by my locker?" The question seemed to have momentarily stung Nick, as if a wave of uncertainty had momentarily crossed his face. I could see his pupils quickly dilate as his smile morphed into a slight grimace, and he was gently biting on the corner of his lower lip. If he wasn't such an enormous physical presence you would think he looked like a little kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Oh, I... um... I had, uh, well..." The response wasn't exactly enlightening, and the repeated stammers were not instilling confidence in the answer that he finally came up with. "Yeah, well, you know, I, um, I guess I wanted to check up and see how you were. You know, you seemed a little lost in class and all." Even as he said this, he was fidgeting noticeably and a sheepish smile had come to form on his lips before he ever completed the sentence. Great student of human nature that I am, I could sense some discomfort with the topic. What on earth was going on here, I thought to myself. Was Nick trying to be friendly, or was he trying to be a little too friendly? Why was I having such difficulty keeping my head screwed on straight, so to speak? Were there some feelings involved here? On my part, there certainly couldn't be. I barely knew Nick and in any event, I was pretty sure I wasn't interested in playing for that particular team, if you catch my drift. The whole concept was just repulsive, I think. But what was Nick up to? And why was I feeling so strange? And, and, why was Nick leaning towards me? Why was I staring into his eyes again? Why were our lips drawing close? Why was I melting before him? And then he kissed me. I must have kissed him too. At that point all the questions tearing through my mind seemed not to need any answers. What part of my brain or body was in control at this point, I couldn't begin to tell you. And I found, to my shock, that I didn't care what was in charge. Soon, his tongue found mine and delivered a gentle massage that sent tingles through my neck and down into the rest of my body. One of his massive arms had reached behind my head and was stroking my hair, the other supporting the rest of my body as I leaned up to him and him down to me and we held each other in that kiss for what seemed forever. I wasn't thinking at this point, I never wanted to think again. It seemed like such a waste of time compared to this. I kicked myself for not letting this part of me take charge more often. I felt like a small child, cradled in the hands of this giant protector of mine that would protect me from harm, protect me even from my own fears. I never wanted that moment to end. But I suppose it had to. The fever that had rushed over me in that moment when our eyes met in that situation subsided violently and instantly, and all at once the analytical part of my brain took over. What was I doing? I hardly knew Nick, and in any event this wasn't right, I thought to myself. I had never thought of myself as gay, and I wasn't, I told myself. I was just messed up from the concussion, and Nick was taking advantage of my confusion. That's it, I thought. Nick was being too aggressive, and taking advantage. I quickly broke away from the embrace. "I'm sorry, I'm just, I don't, I mean I'm not ready for this now, Nick," I finally managed to say. I had wanted to tell him I didn't have feelings for him. I wanted to tell him I wasn't feeling well at the moment. But neither of those things were true, I think, and try as I might I couldn't manage to get myself to say the words. But perhaps I wasn't ready. I really was confused, and that much I was able to express to him. "I understand, I think I know what you mean better than you do," he said in a voice that was unexpectedly pleasant, even almost parental in tone. Well if he understands me right now, I really wish he would go ahead and explain things to me, I found myself thinking. My head was all in a whirl, words and thoughts were not coming to me as they always had. Usually, at each and every moment I'm able to analyze my situation from several different perspectives and predict people's reactions and plan counterreactions. I always had a plan for every situation; I always thought out everything in advance so I would be prepared. But suddenly not only did I most certainly not have a plan, I didn't even have a clue how to go about thinking about what I should do. All I knew at that point was that I didn't know how I felt, I didn't know what I should be thinking, and I didn't know what Nick was thinking. Fortunately for me, he really must have understood my internal tumult right then. "Well, I've got to get going anyway," he said in a perfectly normal tone of voice. "You've got some work to do I guess." What was *that* supposed to mean? Could he tell what a mess I was? Was he angry at me, was he disappointed in me. Was it possible... My thoughts were interrupted as Nick handed me the stack of assignments that he had dutifully collected from my other teachers that day. Oh, yeah, schoolwork. I had schoolwork to do. For maybe one of the rare moments of my entire life, school was the furthest thing from my mind. I found myself not giving a damn if I never went back to school, and then quickly punished myself for thinking such a heretical thought. I loved school, I told myself. But did I love anything else? Would I be able to feel love? Did such an emotion actually exist? Had I ever understood how I really felt about anything? Nick politely excused himself then, insisting I need not get up and show him to the door. Just as well, since I probably wouldn't have managed too well at that point. I really was dizzy now, least of all from my head injury though. I found myself quickly welcoming the withdrawal from consciousness that sleep presented. If I never had to think about anything ever again I would be fine, I found myself considering as I drifted off to the sweet bliss of temporary nothingness...