Date: Fri, 11 Jan 2008 23:36:55 -0500
From: kssb98@aol.com
Subject: Journal About Nothing Special chapter 1

Disclaimer; Do not copy my story without my permission. Don't read it if
you hate the gays


The characters in this story are real hah! (I changed someone's name to
protect the innocent) There is no plot, not point. This was today and
yesterday. Don't worry though, I've had an eventful life so far. A
flashback or two will keep the story going if it doesn't on its own.


I was restless. I had not done anything productive today and had already
gotten tired of trying to kill time on my computer. Now I was simply
wondering around back and forth between my apartment and my friend's down
the hall. I was not that I didn't have important things to do. I had a lot
of important things to do actually; very important pressing things, but I
was simply ignoring them all. Tuition, homework, class, eating,
sleeping. None of that was being taken care of. After another pointless
trip down the hall, I came back to my room and at first glance I was
disgusted with it.. again. One whole week back at school and it was a mess
already. Once again I just closed my door so I wouldn't have to be ashamed
of it and sat at my desk.

I wondered idly if I should jack off, but the thought didn't interest me. I
thought maybe I should surf some porn or something to get in the mood, but
the thought did not interest me either. I jacked off what must have been
two or three times each day just to kill time, but now, it didn't even feel
exciting anymore. Instead I idly opened my browser and clicks some of my
bookmarks to see if something caught my attention. It wasn't a few minuted
before I heard my roommate and his girlfriend come back and knock on my
door.

I hated it when he did that. If it was a knock, he was going to tell me to
do something and he wasn't going to be nice about it either. I braced
myself and opened the door and sure enough, one look at his face told me I
was not going to enjoy this conversation. I had a good feeling what it was
about too.

"Hey," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Listen, I don't want to be a dick or anything, but when are you going to
clean the bathroom?" he asked.

"This weekend," I answered. I figured it was what he wanted to hear. It was
already Thursday after all. Whats two more days?

"When this weekend?" He asked.

"This weekend," I answered. I knew full well that I was not going to be
able to keep a specific time and I'd just end up looking unreliable. His
face was openly showing restrained anger.

"Listen, I asked you two months ago," he said.

Well that just wasn't true it had been three maybe four weeks at most. "It
hasn't been two months." I said.

"Whatever," he snapped. "Point is I shouldn't have to ask you to do it four
times."

Also not true. "Why don't you just wait until Monday and see if its done?"
I asked.

He looked like he was going to explode. "Do you know how disgusting it is
in there? I feel like I'm standing in slime every time I take a
shower. Don't you see all the dirt? Thats just disrespectful."

Well thats another exaggeration. I actually thought our bathroom was
fine. It was cleaner than the other one at least. "No, I didn't notice any
slime." I said.

"You want me to show it to you." I didn't respond. "You!--Okay let me calm
down for a second." He took a breath and continued. "Why didn't you do it
when I asked you the first time?"

"It was winter break. You left on Thursday and just told me to do it when
you left. Do you even know why I couldn't leave until Sunday?" I wondered
if I should even tell him. I hated sympathy.

"No, but I saw you on the computer for two hours on Thursday!" He said.

"I told you I'd do it this weekend. You do realize its Thursday night
right?"

"Yes."

"Meaning tomorrow is Friday." I said.

"Yes I know you have class and all but--"

I cut him off. "Meaning the weekend is just two days away." I said.

"Why didn't you do it this week?" He snapped.

"I had other priorities." I said. I figured it was true enough. I would
have to start eating again before I cleaned any bathroom for anyone.

"See I knew you would say that," he said. "I've been bitching about it to
everyone this whole time you know and I've seen you watching TV and playing
video games all week." He was just about shouting now. It was making me
angry. His girlfriend just watched silently.

"You know I haven't even payed my tuition and its due tomorrow!" I said and
instantly regretted it. I hated telling people my problems. It was a
pathetic come back and was more embarrassing than anything else. We started
shouting from that point on and throwing back and forth a couple of fuck
yous.

It was the first time I had had an argument with him like this. As soon as
he stormed out I felt horrible inside. I missed him as soon as he left and
hated myself for being so god dammed weak. When did I let our relationship
turn out this way? We were friends, equals. We were the same height, the
same weight, and shared the same birthday. We benched the same amount, ran
the same laps, and even got the same SAT scores. We were co-presidents of a
club and the defacto leaders in our group of friends. Two alpha males, best
friends. Now here I was on my hands and knees scrubbing a shower obsessing
over how best to apologize while him and his girlfriend were in the
apartment down the hall "bitching" about me again

It was all I could do not to breakdown crying and confessing all my
problems for sympathy when he returned. In fact I did just that except I
was so ashamed of myself I couldn't even tell him what was going on. I
bawled my eyes out like a little baby in my room after apologizing. I
didn't even tell what for.


Friday morning, I got up and went to class for the first time since
Tuesday. I even threw away some old food rotting by my bed head. What a
fucking improvement. I showered in the clean fucking shower, used a half
dozen cosmetics, and put on something nice so I'd feel a little better.

Fifteen minutes late, I hopped on the bus and went to class. By my second
class, my insomnia was starting to get to me and I could hardly stay
focused. The material was old and the professors were even older and
definitely full of pointless personal stories. I kept myself entertained
trying to determine the cutest guy in the class as it filled up for the
second hour.

One guy caught my eye immediately. Sharp blue eyes, short blond hair with
the most beautifully sculpted face. Cute. Very cute. His body was somewhere
between slender and athletic. Perfect in my book. My own hair was long and
my body was slender. I was tall at a little short of 6'1", but for some
reason I still was only average height at this school. I couldn't tell if I
was good looking or not. People always complimented me on my eyes, my smile
and my hair, but those people were usually just family members. As I
watched him walk closer I realized that he was going for a seat in my row.

I looked glanced around the class again. There were something like one
hundred seats. There were only about six or seven people there so far and
when I looked back at him and he was definitely going for a seat close to
me. I glanced away so I wouldn't freak him out. Straighties hate when guys
make too much eye contact with them. If he was going to to be so hot, I
might as well have him get as close as possible. He took a seat one seat
way from me. I guess any closer and it would have been a bit much to ask.

I recognized him too. He was in my French class that one time I went on
Monday. I thought he was hot then too even if I only got to see him from
behind. I dismissed any thoughts running through my mind and sighed to
myself. There was zero chance of him being gay and interested in me. I was
average at best and he was just too manly or something to be gay. I'd have
to be content stealing glances. It was his own fault anyway for siting so
close and being so cute!

Halfway through something about grandkids and Iraq, I noticed he was
nodding off with his head on his desk. What I noticed more was the way his
shirt rode up his back and revealed beautiful soft-looking skin and a pale
trial of hair running into his boxers from behind. I couldn't stop stealing
peaks. I was dazed. Even when he started to wake up and was looking at me
straight in the eyes it took me a few seconds to panic.

"Hi." I mumbled. Why did I say that? Who says hi like a shy school girl
after staring at someone?

"Hey," he responded groggily.

What now? I'm still staring at him and he's staring at me because I'm
staring at him. Dammit. I flashed him a smile and a giggle and at that it
finally got so awkward I had to look forward. Dammit, what the hell was
that? What kind of pathetic attempt to laugh it off was that?

I focused intently at the professor for a bit until I noticed that he had
put his head back down on the desk and was sleeping again. After thirty
more mind-numbing minutes, I had memorized every detail of his body. There
wasn't an ounce of fat on that thing. Perfect. I had zero chance and I knew
it.

When the class finally ended and everyone started packing up, I noticed he
wasn't moving. I took my time and even found a song on my ipod before I
made to leave but he still didn't move. He was just sitting there
stretching out and looking in my general direction. Now I was faced with a
decision. I could wait until the guys on my left stopped talking and leave
that way or I could walk behind his chair right now and hope he wasn't
going to try something. Straighties hate gays who stare at them right?
They're likely to call you something or just make your life hard. I decided
I'd just take my chances and see if I could squeeze behind his chair. Hell,
maybe he'd scoot up.

He did no such thing. I had to wrap my body around the back of that chair
like only someone who forgot to eat this week could.

"See you later in French," he said. Was that a smile? Was that unbelievably
cute expression what passes for a smile among the gods? Did I even hear him
right through my headphones?

"Yeah see you later," I mumbled and almost tripped as smooth as I am.


Two and a half hours later, there I was in class again when the professor
asked me a question. "Qu'est-ce que tu nom?" she asked and I gave her a
blank stare. She was supposed to ask me "Vous desirez?" like she asked the
guy next to me. I had an answer ready for that one too. This was the first
week of French 1001, she not supposed to mix it up on me.

"Whats your name? Qu'est-ce que tu nom?" She asked. Damn, I actually knew
that one.

"Oh. Simeon," I answered, bracing myself to repeat it again.

"Simone?" She asked. Funny thats my aunt's name.

"Si-me-on," I responded.

"Semon?" She asked.

"Si-me-on." I always hated this. My name was uncommon, but it wasn't
completely unheard of. Maybe I'm just too soft spoken or something. I hated
being the center of attention like I was now and my name always put me
there.

I chanced a glanced at mister perfect to see how he was responding
this. "Si-me-on," he said practicing my name to himself. He had almost a
look of wonder on his face.

"Never mind, I'm going to go to someone else until I can get your name."
Laughter. "Adam, vous desirez?" Wait, who was she talking to?

"Euh, Je voudrais un express." Adam! His name was Adam and he nailed the
answer too.


Questions. Comments. kssb98@aol.com. Please tell me what you liked and what
you hated.