Hello again, and how are you all doing today? This story is about two young men who meet and eventually fall in love. If this is offensive to you, or you are not of legal age to be reading it in your area, or your area is really strict and won't let you read it even if your 95 then you should not read it. However, if I had a nickel for every time someone obeyed a warning like this I would probably still be broke. I would love for you to send me all your comments, flames, death-threats, praises or just ramblings about life, at: ZippyTheBookWorm@yahoo.com I just think I should mention, though, that all death threats and flames shall be laughed at uproariously, then thrown away and probably laughed at some more.
I would appreciate it even more if you would tell me what it was you liked or disliked specifically, that way I can keep doing the good stuff, and improve the not so good stuff. For example, it was brought to my attention that I let a number of grammatical errors slip through in chapter one. I will endeavor to correct this mistake in all further chapters, I myself know how annoying it can be to read a story with improper grammar. (Like finger nails down a chalkboard.)
Again, special thanks go to Jason, Bruce and Divine. (I spelled it right this time D.) Especially to Divine, you may not think you do much but it means more to me than I know how to say. And now, with no further ado, let us proceed.
Chapter Two-Destiny or luck?
Who out there believes in destiny? You know, the idea that somehow your entire life has already been decided and someone just forgot to tell you about it? Ya, I don't like that idea either. Personally I do believe in destiny, but not in the way most people think of it. You see, most people think of destiny as something called 'predestination' (regardless of whether or not they think of that word in particular, that's what most of them think of when they think of destiny.) What it means is basically your life has been decided and someone forgot to tell you about it, you can't change it, you can't decide, period. You see, what I believe is something else entirely, something called fore-ordination. What that means is that in the pre-existence, God, or whoever you believe in, said to you "This is the most likely path for your life. It's not the only one, and it's definitely not the easiest, but if you make the right choices this is the general path your life will follow. And hopefully you will be happy on it." I like to think I've made the right choices in my life, but so far all the happiness I've ever managed to achieve has been ripped away from me. I won't go into detail now, but regardless of all that, I intend to find happiness one day!!
My name is Adam Cross and I just moved to San Diego, California from New York City. My parents are divorced and I live with my mother. Partly because the courts awarded her custody, but mostly because my Dad is a bigotous ass hole. I don't swear too often, but when I think about my father and what he did, I just get so angry!! I came out to my parents about two years ago, when I was fifteen, and my father exploded. He demanded to know if I had a boyfriend and I admitted that I did, but told him that we hadn't had sex yet. He didn't believe me, and tried to make me tell him who it was. When I refused to tell him he lost it totally and started hitting me. I honestly think he would have killed me had my mom not taken the frying pan to the back of his head and knocked him unconscious. We both went over to the neighbor's house and mom called the police. To make a long story short, my mom immediately filed for divorce and we then moved to Utah. We lived there for almost two years, and then she got a great job offer as an English professor at Sad Diego State. She really doesn't need to work at all, she could live forever in comfort from the fortune her mother left her, and so could I for that matter, but she truly enjoys the work she does.
Anyway, that's how I came to be at Pishley High for my Senior year in highschool. The best thing I can say about this school is that it's supposed to have a killer a volley ball team. I love volley ball, and not just because most of the guys who play eventually end up taking off their shirts. Maybe the year won't be a total drag after all.
Well, that was the best thing I could say about it until I walked into my first period class this morning. I had gotten to school early so I could be sure and find my first period class on time, but the door numbering was really weird and I got lost for a while. Finally a teacher noticed me going past her door for the third time and stepped out to ask me if I was lost. I think she thought I was just trying to ditch class.
"Excuse me young man," she said in one of those, 'And what do you think your doing?' tones, "you seem to be lost. May I help you?" She had this smile on her face that was practically screaming 'Hah, caught you trying to ditch on your first day of school, didn't I, DIDN'T I!?. You trouble maker!'
"As a matter of fact," I said in my nicest 'I really don't need to be in trouble on the first day of school' tone of voice, "I am lost. I just moved here and I'm new. Could you tell me how to get to room 201?"
"Well," she said in a mildly surprised voice, her smile gone, "its right up the hall. Turn right and it's the third door on the left. And don't worry about being late, Mrs. Fiddlemyer has this same problem with new students every year, I'm sure she's used to it by now. Oh, and welcome to Pishley High."
"Thank-you ma'am, thank-you very much." She went back into her room and I started down the hall toward first period. Of course it was painfully close to where I had been looking the whole time. Ah well, maybe this Mrs. Fiddlemyer will be cool.
When I walked in, the teacher, a rather short woman who almost looked like she should be in one of the desks instead of in front of the class, looked at me and raised an eyebrow as if to say 'Yes? How may I help you?'
"Hello," I said, "sorry I'm a bit late, but the numbering on these doors is a bit screwy."
"Yes, it is." She replied with a smile. "May I see your schedule? Thank-you.
Well Mr. Cross, if you would be so kind as to take a seat, I will get on with my lecture."
With that she returned my schedule and I looked out over the class to find a seat. I don't think I have ever seen that many people look so similar, not even in actual uniforms. They all looked like robots. I wasn't sure if the look of mindlessness on their faces was caused by the lecture the teacher had been giving, or if that was their normal expression. Talk about scary!
The next moment seemed to stand still and was forever imprinted on my mind. I was looking towards the back row, trying to find an empty seat. Then, as if in a dream, I saw him. At first I wasn't sure if he was really there or if I had, in my desperation to find a kindred spirit, simply imagined him. In my eyes he was the epitome of male beauty. His was strong and well built, and yet at the same time I could see a pain in his eyes that spoke of a terrible emptiness, a gnawing need to be loved. His face was delecate and beautiful. The only word I can think of to describe it is elven. It was as if some magnificent elven prince had stepped out of the pages of a story book and into this classroom, completely forgetting to hide his grace and beauty behind a cloak of magik. As it was I was irrevocably captured by the spell of his beauty. His long raven black hair fell down his back and contrasted sharply with his pale skin. His skin was smooth and unblemished, so pale in fact you could almost see the blue veins running just underneath the surface. His clothes were, like his hair, as black as midnight. His loose kakhis and large button up shirt concealed the exact definitions of his physique, but to a trained eye there were still many clues suggesting that this was one elven prince you did not want to mess with.
There was an expression on his face that spoke of boredom and an inability to generate any interest in what Mrs. Fiddlemyer had been saying. I think that's what I found most appealing about him. The absolute innocence, the amazing ability to show his emotions like an open book and either not be aware of it, or just not care that others saw it. His chin was propped in one of his hands and the other was splayed across the desk, his long delicate fingers reaching out across the wood. Again my attention was drawn to his face. It was beautiful. Michelangelo himself could not have imagined anything more perfect, more alluring, more wonderful, than this face.
All of this was permanently imprinted in my brain within the three heartbeats it took for me to see him and then notice the single empty desk beside him.
Desperately attempting to avoid staring at him, I glanced around the room a second time as I walked down the isle of chairs towards him. The walls were covered with posters of old presidents, famous battles, and other events that were 'key' in shaping American history. History has always been one of my favorite classes and I had actually been looking forward to this class. Now, although I'm sure he's straight as an arrow, I have another reason to look forward to it each day.
Just as I got to the desk and set my stuff down next to it he extended his hand, and in the most beautiful voice said, "Hi, I'm Chris Thompson." It was as if someone had taken the very essence of all things beautiful, some how combined them into the perfect instrument and then with an act of divine will, gifted this mortal with a voice that gods would kill for.
For a millisecond that seemed to drag on for an eternity I was paralyzed by the beauty of his voice and the look in his grey eyes. Yes, grey. They looked like shadowy diamonds and were just as sharp. They seemed almost to cut into the very depths of your soul without even trying.
Throwing all common sense to the winds I took his hand in my own and with a firm shake (I think I just about crushed his hand I was so nervous) I introduced myself. As our hands met, a jolt of electricity raced up my arm. I won't even try to describe the feelings his touch sent through me. I don't think there are enough words in any language to do it. "Hi, I'm Adam Cross." With that I let him have his hand back and was haunted by the ghost of his touch. How do you describe something so perfect? His handshake had been firm and strong, probably the result of hours spent doing whatever it is he had done to develope that body. And yet, at the same time his hand was soft and smooth and yielding. It was like shaking hands with a man who had a thick glove of silk and satin over a hand made of iron.
The visible contrast between our hands was easily recognizable. Where I was deeply tanned from many hours spent out in the sun playing volley ball, his skin was light and creamy. It wasn't that pale sickly color that comes from staying inside for too long, it looked like he was a pale alabaster statue come to life. Like everything else about him it seemed to accentuate his beauty, and was an amazingly alluring contrast to his raven hair. Again I noticed all these things within the three seconds it took us to shake hands and introduce ourselves to each other, and I knew without a doubt that I would always remember him.
Only a few minutes had passed since I had first walked into class but that's all the time it took for my definition of beauty to be changed utterly. My definition of beauty was now Chris.
Mrs. Fiddlemyer had resumed her lecture so we weren't able to say anything more, but I contented myself with memorizing every facet of Christopher's face. For the next half hour I would glance over at him for a few seconds and then look back to Mrs. Fiddlemyer, and then back to Chris and then-well you get the idea. I was so afraid he would catch me looking at him, but I just couldn't resist.
A half an hour later when the bell rang I was surprised that the time seemed to have passed so quickly. Desperately I searched my mind for something to say that would let me stay near him for a little while longer.
I've got it! "Oh, hey," I said in my most innocent voice, "I'm kind of new here, do you think you could show me around a bit?"
"Hehe," he laughed a bit and I was sure he was going to tell me beat it. "Boy did you pick the wrong guy to ask," Here comes the blow off, " I'm new here too. What class do you have next?" Saved, God really does love me!!
"Uhh," I stalled stupidly, having completely forgotten what I was doing as I stared at his eye's. "Math, room 153" I finally snapped myself back to reality.
"No way," he said surprised, "that's my next class too." Wow, God must really adore me! "Let me see your schedule."
As it turns out we both have the exact same schedule! I must have done something really good in a previous life or something cause this is way too cool!! The only difference in our schedules is in PE. He has weight-training during PE and I have volley ball, but if I had to watch him undress in the locker rooms I think I might faint, so it's probably a good thing.
The next three periods just about breezed by for me. In AP Calculus, AP Literature and ASL IV (American Sign Language 4) I heard just enough to nod in all the right places when the teachers spoke, and somehow managed to work an entire problem on the board in Calculus when all I could think about was Chris.
Finally lunch came and while we were standing in line I had a chance to think. The time it had taken me to fall in love with Chris shocked me, it was even a little frightening. I'm not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, and I'm not totally inexperienced when it comes to a relationship either. I've had two other boyfriends before, and, I'm rather ashamed to say, a myriad of one night stands. Had you asked me at the time if I loved either of my two boyfriends I would said yes in a heartbeat, but in all the time I spent with them I don't think I fell half as hard as I'ld fallen for Chris in just a few minutes. And I haven't even gotten into Chris' pants yet. Now that I think about it actually, it terrifies me. Both times before I refused to allow myself to acknowledge I was in love until I had revealed myself, and the second time he was the one that came out to me first. Everyone I've ever really loved, apart from my mother, has either been ripped away from me or they turned on me the minute they discovered I was gay. I can't help but wonder if that's going to happen here. My only choice right now is to repress these feelings, to burry them so deep Chris will never be able to see them until I let them out, which I never will.
"Hey Adam? You there man?" Chris asked me snapping me out of my reverie. I looked down and realized that while in my daze I had gone through the lunch line, and instead of getting one of the edible meal options like Taco Bell or Pizza Hut (one of the perks of going to a 'posh' highschool I guess) I had chosen to take the school cafeteria slop. Today it was supposed to resemble spaghetti, I think. Yuck!! I like spaghetti, but this gelatinous muck looks like you could mortar walls with it.
"Ya, sorry. I was just... thinking about something." I could tell he wanted to ask me what I had been thinking about but just then we were interrupted by a girl who was not only drop dead gorgeous, (I may be gay but I know what straight guys go for) she was also the first person I had seen in this school, other than Chris, who looked like they didn't have some kind of computer chip for a brain.
"Hey guys, you mind if I sit with you?" She asked in a voice that I can only describe as perky. "You look new here. You also look human so I would like to get to know you!" Without another word she set her tray down next to Chris and sat so close to him it was a wonder she wasn't sitting in his lap.
"Uh.. Hi." Chris said a little awkwardly, scooting away a bit. "My name's Chris," he said, extending his hand to Amanda, "and your right, we're both new here. You're also right about the human part. I don't know what it is about this place but you're one of the first people I've met here that doesn't look like a carbon copy of everyone else."
"That's because the unwritten rule here is 'You must conform.' As you can see, I refuse to conform." With that she grasped Chris' hand in her own gave the customary hand shake, but when Chris tried to pull his hand away she held on. I would have laughed at the dilemma he seemed to have gotten himself into had my heart not been about to fall out of my chest. Luckily I've had years of practice hiding what I felt inside so neither of them knew anything was wrong. Not that Amanda would have noticed, she seemed just as lost staring at Chris' face as I had been earlier that day. Lucky her though, she could do it right out in public without anyone thinking anything weird was going on.
"You have the prettiest eyes . . . "
"Uh, th-thanks." Chris stuttered in reply to Amanda's comment. It was all I could do not to agree with her out loud.
"So what class do you guys have next?" she asked, finally letting go of Chris' hand and turning to her lunch.
"PE," we both answered in unison. We looked at each other for a second and then just let it drop and looked back to Amanda.
"Hmm" Amanda grunted with a look of disappointment on her face. "How 'bout after that?"
"Drama four." Once again we both answered in unison and this time, for absolutely no apparent we started to laugh like we had just heard the funniest thing in the world.
"Cool!!" she said a bit excitedly, as though our fit of laughter was totally normal. "So do I! I was hoping at least one of you would be in one of my classes but both of you, totally awesome! Especially in Drama. Fifth period Drama is the best class in the whole school. It's the one class where the majority of the people are nonconformists. And the teacher is the biggest nonconformist of all, it's a wonder the rest of the staff hasn't banded together and had her fired!! It's great, you'll love it!"
"Sounds awesome!" I said, finally having recovered from my laughing fit. By the way, did I mention that Chris' laugh is the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard? He's the first person, aside from my mom, who's laugh actually sounds like he's laughing with his whole being. (Yes, I know. I dote on my mom a lot. Can you blame me though?) It was a celebration of happiness and joy and everything good and it was just so beautiful I almost forgot not to stare into his eyes as Amanda had done moments ago.
Just about then the bell rang. "Damn!" Amanda swore as she looked at her watch. "Well, why don't I show you guys the way to the Drama room? Being new here it would probably be difficult to find. For some reason," she said this part rather melodramatically, "they decided to hide it when they built this school. Meet me back here after fifth and I'll show you the way. Bye guys." And with that she was up and gone, swallowed hole by the teeming mass of students swarming out of the cafeteria towards the classrooms.
Fifth period was a mixed blessing. It was a blessing in that since it was the first day of school we wouldn't be dressing out. It was a curse in that for the whole next period, while our coach was explaining to us whatever it was he was explaining, I could not stop thinking of Chris and how much I missed his presence, regardless of the fact that I had only just met him that day. I was listening enough to hear that our first game would be in two days. Good grief, already we're in competition and not even a full week of school has passed.
Finally the bell rang and we were allowed to leave the gym. Chris and Amanda were both waiting for me by the time I got to the table.
"Come on slow poke." Amanda said as I walked up to the table.
"Hey, can I help it if I you both have classes that are closer to this table than mine?"
"Good point." She conceded to me. "But you're still a slow poke." And with that she was off, both Chris and I struggling to keep up without running. Amanda kept up a running dialog the entire time, how she managed to walk so fast and talk a mile a minute was beyond me. To this day I still don't know what she said, nor do I really care. Chris was walking in front of me and I swear his butt was just screaming at me to squeeze it. Now that I had gotten a better look at his wardrobe, loose black pants with a tight T-shirt tucked into them and a large black button up shirt left entirely undone and untucked, I was also able to get a slightly better idea of what was underneath it. It was obvious he had spent time in a gym, but he didn't have the beefed out 'I can crush your skull with my pinky' look. His look was more like... I don't know how to put it really. All I know is, in my eyes he was beauty. And the whole way to sixth period I got to watch him move with the liquid grace of a jungle cat.
Amanda had been right earlier, without help we never would have found the Drama room. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it the Drama building since it was in a complex all by itself back behind the cafeteria. She was also right about the class and the teacher. Everyone there was dressed differently. It actually looked like a classroom full of real people instead of one full of robots, and the teacher was absolutely cool! She was a tall slim woman with long auburn hair and a natural beauty. She had a natural grace about her when she moved and was possessed of a bearing that demanded respect, but also promised it in return.
"Welcome to Drama 4." She said after the bell rang "My name is Althea Patrick. You may call me Ms. Patrick, Ms. Pat, or Ms. P, whichever you prefer. Now, here's how it's going work for the next year. I will give you assignments with very little concrete instruction and your going to use your imagination to come up with something that's entertaining, intelligent and maybe even thought provoking. Obviously this means you get to decide on exactly what the outcome of most any project is, and your grade will be based more on effort than on ability. If you turn in the worst results, but can prove to me you put forth every ounce of conceivable effort, you will have earned the A. The converse of this is also true. If you turn in the best project ever to be thought of, but it only required a bare modicum of effort on your part, you will receive a grade that reflects this lack of enthusiasm. This class is about discovering and then surpassing your own potential, not about how much better you can be than everyone else at a given assignment. We are of course going to put on a number of plays as in any drama class, and while these will likely be secondary to your other assignments, they will still be very crucial to your grade. I want to tell you all right now that I expect you all to work very hard at what assignments I give you. There aren't very many of them, and according to most of my students from past years most of them are enjoyable. However, I do not expect you to play games with my time." Some people would probably hate themselves for taking a class with a teacher like her, but myself I'm actually looking forward to this. I enjoy a good challenge, and my personal opinion has always been that there is no greater challenge then to beat yourself. I think I may have heard that somewhere...
"And as a matter of fact," she continued, "you have your first assignment now." Oh boy. Just what I wanted, an assignment on the first day of school. Why can't she just let me sit here and stare at Chris all period? "I want you all to pick a partner and then, while just looking at that person, I want you to describe their personality as best you can." Hmm, this could be fun actually. I mean, she did just basically grant me my wish.
That was about as far as my train of thought got before I felt Christopher's hand on my back. "Hey Adam," he said tapping the back of my shoulder with his long delicate fingers, "you wanna be my partner?" Oh boy did I ever!! (Hey you. Yes YOU. Get your mind OUT of the gutter!!! You immature, immodest, sex crazed teenagers. Oh wait... that's me. Anyway, you should know better!) Finally a chance to just stare at him and not have to worry about people wondering why.
"Ya sure." I said calmly, not wanting him to see that inside I was virtually about to explode from the excitement of being able to stare at him without anyone wondering why.
"Oh yes," Ms. Patrick said, "I almost forgot. Homework," the dreaded 'H' word, and on the first day of school!!! "is to continue this assignment throughout the week and to write a new list of characteristics you notice in your partner every day. If you notice similar characteristics each day right them down again. At the end of the week we will see how the list you make today, based on appearance, compares with the lists you make throughout the week." At this there were a few groans, but I was elated. Now I had an excuse to spend time with Chris all week. "You may begin the assignment now. Feel free to leave your desks just so long as the talking is kept to a minimal and no groups larger than two people."
Chris and I gathered up our packs, got up out of our seats and walked over to a corner. Amanda looked over at us and glared at me for a second before turning to talk some other kid. Too bad girlfriend, this boy is all mine!!
As I sat and stared at Chris with my notebook open in my lap I lost myself in his eyes and started to write in my notebook without even looking at it. Eventually I had to blink and when I did my eyes stayed shut for a few minutes and I began to imagine being held in his arms. True it would feel good physically to have Chris' strong arms around me, but even better would be the sense of being loved, the safety and warmth of someone I loved holding me. Never before, not in either of my previous relationships, and certainly not in any of my one night stands had I wanted to be held just for the sake of being held.
I realized what I was thinking and quickly banished the thought from my head. I couldn't be in love with him, I just couldn't. I just met him today and for all I know he might beat me lifeless if he ever had any idea what I had been thinking about. Embarrassed that I had allowed my mind to wander I looked down at my notebook and almost gasped in surprise at what I had written without even thinking. Below a list of charactersitcs such as compasionate, caring, needing, and a few others was a poem.
'Love is in your eyes,
And safety is in your arms.
You are the one I love,
For now and forever.
Chris, I love you.
Do you know,
Can you know
How much I love you?'
I stared at the paper in shock. How could I be so stupid? What if the teacher saw it? What if Chris saw it!? He would hate me, that's what. He would know I was gay and he would hate me.
God, why does life have to be this way?
"What's wrong Adam?" Chris asked me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"Oh.. I.." I couldn't think of anything to say, couldn't think of any way to cover my mistake. Not only was I mortified at what I had written, but the feel of Chris' hand on my shoulder with nothing but my shirt between his fingers and my skin was doing horrible things to my concentration. Just as I was about to blurt out some nonsense the bell rang. I slammed my notebook shut, shoved it in to my pack and took off out the door. I was walking away from Chris so fast I made it out the door before anyone else.
"Adam, wait up!" I completely ignored him as I continued to walk, and eventually broke into a run towards the parking lot. I could hear him calling my name as I put my key into the door of my car, a sweet navy blue '00 Plymouth Prowler. (Hey, when your mother has more money than god why not take advantage of it?) I quickly opened the door, threw my bag into the passenger seat and got in. By the time Chris got to my parking space I was already on the street headed for my house.
When I got home I did what homework I had and then went to work unpacking my room. When I was finished with my room, I went downstairs and started unpacking what little was left in the kitchen, which shocked the life right out of my mom. She had done her level best to raise me with a value for hard work, but generally I tended to be a bit of a laze about. When she asked my what was going on I just told her I was bored and needed something to do. She looked at me kind of funny and then went back to her newspaper. I'm pretty sure she knew something was up, but if she did she didn't say anything more about it.
I was doing my very best to keep my mind off Chris and what an ass I had made of myself when I ran out on him like that. It worked too. Right up until I decided to go to sleep at about nine I found something to do that would keep my mind occupied. But when I lay down on my bed, my mind, with nothing else to occupy it, latched onto the image of Chris' face as he had been laughing that day at lunch, and in a moment of utter loneliness and pain, I cried.
I wasn't just crying because I had probably lost Chris forever, but because I had been torn away from everything I knew. Only now after coming face to face with what was in store for me in this new school was I allowing myself to admit how much leaving my home in Utah and my now ex-boyfriend Ryan had hurt me. I think too, I was realizing that Ryan had been little more to me than a good fuck-buddy, and I was mad at myself for not trying to make it more. Why is it always so much easier to see your mistakes once there's no chance of repairing them? God I hate my life. Why can't I find someone to love me?
Remember earlier when I mentioned destiny? Well... I knew it had been less than a full day since I met him, but I had a feeling that somehow Chris was my destiny. I didn't know what that meant exactly, but as I lay there crying, begging for sleep to overtake me and mask these painful realizations, I was certain Chris was going to play a very important role in my future.
End Chapter Two
Ok, there it is. Oiy that took a long time to write. Especially since I had to rewrite it like three times. Anyway, there it is. Hope you liked it! Drop me line about it at ZippyTheBookWorm@yahoo.com Oh, and for those of you who like really good stories even if they're based in a fantastical setting, go check out 'Into The Darkness' in the sf-fantasy section. It's very good! Got ya D!! :p
This story isn't over, not by a long shot, but I will very soon be without a computer, or at least without access to the internet. I will do my best to find a way to post updates, but if I can't, that's why. Sorry.