Date: Sun, 25 Jan 2009 19:27:29 -0600
From: James Knight <james5508@gmail.com>
Subject: Chase Me Chapter 1

If you are under age or live in an area where reading stories that include
sex between males is illegal, or if you are not into this type of story,
please leave. This is a love story and it will take a while to develop, so
if you are looking for more of a sexual story, there are plenty of them
around. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without
the author's consent. Comments are greatly appreciated at
james5508@gmail.com

Chapter 1

It was all just too real. It had to have been two years since the last time
I'd seen him, and, boy, what two years could do to someone. It was like
taking a nap and waking up in some parallel universe. Seriously, it was
that eerie.

But you're probably wondering what I'm talking about right? Well, see my
name is Jason Moretti and I'm about ready to turn the big eighteen. I just
finished my junior year at West Millard High School where I play for the
football team. I used to play mainly as a wide receiver, but I switched
over in high school to the quarterback on the JV team, and then second
string on varsity. I don't know if that sounds impressive or not, but the
girls sure love to hang around me and my best buds, swooning all over the
place constantly "oohing" and "ahhing" everything we talk about. But enough
about me, I was talking about how I saw him for the first time since, I
guess the end of middle school.

One the weekends I'm usually at one of my friends houses, hanging out or
throwing a party, like we were this weekend. We were all (I'm not sure of
the exact number, but there seemed to be a lot of people there that I've
never seen before) at my friend Bobby's house this time around, but I
hadn't seen him since I first showed up (I had a feeling he was in one of
the bedrooms upstairs, wink, wink), so I was just hanging out in one of
downstairs rooms, most likely a family room or something, it really doesn't
matter. Now I'm no where near being shy, but rather I'm loud and active
with lots of friends that always seem to be hanging on me. Which is why it
was so strange that I was completely dumbstruck when I saw him leaning
against the dark mahogany door frame leading out from the kitchen.

He was talking to some girl that I don't think I've ever seen before. I
couldn't see her face from my vantage point on the opposite side of the
room, but I could clearly make out his profile.

Moderately tall, still several inches shorter than I was, somethings never
change, but others definitely do. His face seemed clear of any blemishes, a
slight tan, I don't really know what to call it. His skin was definitely
darker than what I remember, or maybe I just didn't ever notice it
before. Truth be told, I had never saw him the way I was seeing him now,
something I'm not very proud of. Anyway, it seemed like he had spent all
the time he had been away at some kind of beach or something, and it really
seemed to help him showcase his body to everyone in the room. His physic
was awesome! And I can say that from a non-biased perspective because from
someone spending all the time playing sports that I have, I've seen some
pretty awesome bods, and his would definitely be up there.

His tanned skin played off well against with his jet black hair, which he
kept like semi-wavy on top, and a little shorter on the sides, which gave
him a kind of, I dunno, Mediterranean look. But when he smiled, well it
just seemed to light up his whole face, giving him an incredible
All-American looking persona which you wouldn't be shocked to find gracing
the pages of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog.

I must have spent like five whole minutes staring at him. I swear I don't
know what's wrong with me. But it must be serious, maybe like a seizure or
something, no wait, when you have a seizure you like, start shaking and
fainting and stuff like that, so scratch that. It was just plain weird, I
mean I had not ever just looked at someone before, but I could see the
benefit of it.

ÔDude! Shake it off, what the hell are you talking about.' Sorry Ôbout
that, but sometimes I get stuck in some kind of dream funk, and I have to,
like just shake myself out of it. Ok, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, well I
had seen many a good, or what the hell, great bodies during my short,
little seventeen years here on God's green earth, and I could really rate
his body as a fantastic one. And I know what you're thinking...'could he be
anymore vague ... for Christ's sake would you just spit it out already?'
And well you're right, but come on. I've never done this sort of thing
before and I have to tell you its really starting to freak me out. But I'll
give it a shot.

Okay, so I may be exaggerating a little when it comes to how he looked. His
body really didn't look much like mine. I'm mean, I'm kinda tall with sport
muscles that have developed from years of playing ball, but just from
looking at him from across the room, I could tell that he was
unquestionably toned.

That's something that I have always admired about guys with shorter
statures then us taller guys, because while we can definitely pack on the
muscles, its incredibly hard to get them to hang around, and then by some
miracle manage to get them expertly toned and conditioned. You could tell
that he had a swimmers body, but not really tall enough to hugely fast in
the water, after all you do to have a certain height and arm span to be
really good at competition swimming--not really a requirement per se, but
something that would do a world of good to have. Sorry, but I think I
should have mentioned it before now, but as you've probably noticed I can
go off on long, and often bizarre tangents about really nothing at all, so
I just hope that you'll be able to bear with me. Now back to whatever I was
talking about.

He was wearing some kind of black, or at least I think it was black, most
likely some stupid dark color called like Prussian Blue, button up shirt,
and probably with jeans, I couldn't see really well because that girl was
standing right in front of him, not that I particularly care, I just wanted
to make sure that I was mentioning everything.

Like I said, I didn't know who the girl talking to him was, or at least
from the back I didn't recognize her. Maybe from the front? Possibly, but
she really didn't have body type that would have made me recognize
her. Unlike most of the girls at the party, she had dark black hair, most
of the girls at the party had blonde hair. Ever think its strange that most
cheerleaders have blonde hair? Coincidence? I probably shouldn't say that
because while I too have black hair--I'm Italian so what else did you
expect--I did get my cousin to dye it blonde one summer. It was one of the
most humiliating experiences of my life, I looked like a cannoli, the
darker skin with the white on top. Yeah, I don't recommend trying it
anytime soon. I know that has nothing to do with anything I was talking
about, just take it as an interesting fact.

Anyway, back to the mystery girl, so she had black hair, it was long,
probably down towards the middle of her back, but completely straight, no
curls or waves. She was skinny, but not in that kind of model skinny with
the bones showing, more like, I don't know, a healthy skinny. She was
really one hot little package.

She was dressed in the same style as he was, dark clothes, but not cheap
kind, but what looked like expensive, professional clothes.  And thats like
the only way I can describe how the two were dressed--it looked like they
were going to some sort of church, but their clothes had a somewhat relaxed
undertone, it was really kind of cool. That's the best I can do I swear, I
just don't know how else to put it, so I guess you'll have to deal with it.

Now before I get ahead of meself, ha-ha, meself, sounds kinda British,
anyway I guess now would be the ideal time to mention that his name is
Dylan Blain. See we grew up together, he lived three houses down from me
and my parents and we were the best of friends for what seems like forever,
but then sometime around the beginning of middle school we just sorta feel
out, and we didn't do things together anymore. I missed him for a little
while but I had plenty of other friends to get along with so it really
didn't bother me much.

I stood against the wall, staring over at the two of them for what seemed
like forever. I know that sounds like I'm some kind of creeper or
something, just some guy leaning against a wall staring into space, not
weird at all right! Anyway, I tried not to look like I was looking at
something specific, and I'm not sure I was succeeding, but I did manage to
avoid eye contact with him during that period, so it was a sort of
accomplishment for me.

I couldn't decide whether or not I wanted to go over there and introduce my
self, or reintroduce, I'm not really sure which one it would be. Would he
even remember me? And how would it look if he didn't recognize me, I'm mean
it would be really weird to say the least. Maybe I should just like stay
away from him and let him remember me, that would probably be less
strange. Yeah, thats a good idea.

Or I could go see if anyone else around noticed him and then I could take
it from there. Yeah, thats an even better idea.

I was going to start walking around, I swear I was, but just as I was
thinking of who might best remember Dylan, I looked back over there and
found myself looking right into his eyes. I froze, I don't know why, and it
freaked me out, but I could not bring myself look away from those
incredibly dark blue eyes. His skin flushed a soft pink color right as he
diverted his eyes from my own, and I realized that he was blushing. I
couldn't figure out why he would do that, and before I could even think
about it I heard my name being called from across the room.

"Jason, man there you are, I've been looking all over the fuckin' place for
ya!" My best friend Shawn yelled from the other side of the room. We're
both on the football team, he's a linebacker in case you're wondering, and
we've been best friends for like six years, or somewhere around there. He
can be a little obnoxious, but I've learn to over look things because he is
my friend.

I pounded his out stretched hand, and we did one of those things were
somebody brings their body close to yours and then you sort of give them a
pat on the back with your other hand. I'm sure you know what I am talking
about, I just don't remember what they're called, or if they are even
called anything for that matter. Do you know? Ahh, whatever, like it even
matters right, anyway, back the scene.

"Hey bro. What's up?" I asked, I really couldn't care less, he was
distracting me from my goal of finding out what Dylan was doing back.

Shawn didn't answer me, instead he looked around the room, his head finally
coming to a stop right where mine was the moment that he walked up to me,
to where Dylan and his unknown friend were standing. I saw his eyes widen,
but they seemed to be a little out of focus. Big surprise right? A group of
people at a party with no adults, right before the start of senior year,
and some members of the football team are drunk! No way. I thought stuff
like that only happens in the movies.

"Holy shit dude. Jason, man, is that, like the kid we used to pick on all
the time? Jeezus, I never thought we see him again. I thought we got rid of
him, but I guess the little fag's up to some more," said Shawn, mimicking
punching motions with his hands.

"What the hell are you talking Ôbout dude?" I said quickly, there was no
possible way in hell that I would let him know that I was standing here
against the wall just staring at Dylan for like five minutes or
something. Can you say social suicide? Or maybe it might be homicide,
because somebody would definitely end up killing me. "How many beers you
have anyway, cause something must be affecting your brain."

"I only had one, Shelby gave it to me, and ya know as well as I do that you
don't turn away nothin' that Shelby is giving out." He let out a snort and
gave me a sort of lop sided high five, which I returned with a big grin on
my face. If he did only have one beer, it must surely have been spiked with
something, and if Shelby Johnson gave it to him, nine out of ten chances
say that it probably was. I swear if there was ever a slut, she was
it. Anyone who ever put on a varsity jacket suddenly found themselves the
object of affection from Shelby, and even though most people at West hated
her, it didn't stop her from being the right of passage to the freshman
members of athletic teams. I know a tangent, but you should know the drill
by now.

"And I told ya, him over their talking to that hot chick with the black
hair." Said Shawn, pointing dramatically over towards the two of
them. "What's a chick like her want with him I got no idea, probably wants
him to fix her hair or makeup," finished Shawn, laughing at his own joke.

I had no idea in hell how Shawn remembered who Dylan was. He was never one
of sharpest tools in the shed, but he is one hell of a good football
player, and hey isn't that like the only thing that matters? But I guess
when you pick on somebody for several years it might be kinda hard to
forget them, not that he was showing any remorse for his actions, rather it
seemed he wanted to continue where he left off.

"Hey you faggot!" Shawn yelled across the room toward Dylan. This
immediately caused a hush silence over the room so that only the blaring
beat of "What Hurts the Most" could be heard. And of course it only took
about five seconds for the music to come to an abrupt stop while the people
in the room moved off towards the sides, looking around for the source of
the commotion, leaving an empty path between Dylan, his friend and Shawn
and me.

I could not believe Shawn, I really didn't want to put Dylan in this kind
of situation again, but there was nothing I could do to stop Shawn, so I
just had to play along for the sake of keeping face with all my other
friends.

I don't think I have ever seen someone's face lose color faster than
Dylan's did right as Shawn yelled across to him. He quickly backed into the
wall, which was only a few steps behind him, looking absolutely
petrified. Shawn started walking slowly down the opening of people, I
didn't follow him, but stayed glued to the ground, staring at the scene in
front of me, to scared to follow any coarse of action. I couldn't stand up
for Dylan, there was no way I could handle being known as person who was
friends with someone labeled as a Ôfag,' which would mean me being named a
fag too. Cruel, but this is high school, social survival is your most basic
instinct. But at the same time I didn't follow Shawn, I had felt something
for Dylan the moment our eyes met. Sympathy maybe, or some kind of guilt
for the hell that my friends and I put him through for years, I don't know,
but something made me stay behind.

"Faggot!" Shawn shouted again, "You should answer people when they're
talking to you." Shawn sped up during the final few steps to where Dylan
stood, grabbed Dylan by his collar and lifted him so they where face to
face, pressing Dylan's back into the wall. Dylan's face was ghostly white
as he feebly tried to struggle free from Shawn's gasp, but as Shawn was at
least six inches taller than him, and about seventy pounds heavier, Dylan's
attempts were completely futile, he was at the complete mercy of Shawn.

"I'd thought you had learned your lesson about coming around here again
fagboy, but it looks like I was wrong, and I don't like being wrong, you
filthy piece of shit!" screamed Shawn as he lifted Dylan away from the wall
before slamming him into it again and allowing him to fall to the ground.

"Wha' ze Ôell are you doing?" The girl that Dylan was with suddenly
shrieked, her voice ladened with a deep French accent. It seemed like she
was in shock when Shawn first went for Dylan, but when he hit the ground,
she threw herself in between him and Shawn. "Wha' Ôas he ever done to you?"

"He's been a disgusting little faggot, and it seems like its up to me to
teach this little cocksucker what a real man is," said Shawn, side stepping
the girl and aiming a kick right into Dylan's stomach, making Dylan groan
in pain.

I looked at Dylan, and I don't think I've ever seen anyone as--as broken as
Dylan was. His arm was wrapped around his upper stomach, Shawn's kick
landed somewhere right under Dylan's ribcage. He was struggling to get up
off up the ground, his breathing was heavy, but he kept almost getting
there, but then he would slip and fall back to the ground.

"Aww, what's the matter little baby? Cant get off the ground?" ridiculed
Shawn. I could tell he was getting ready to land another kick on Dylan, and
as he was winding his leg back, I felt a jolt of energy flow through me. I
wanted to run up there and deck Shawn and just start wailing on him. But I
couldn't. I had know idea where those feelings came from, they were so
powerful and overwhelming yet they seemed so natural--like my basic
instinct. That was the part that was scaring me the most, how could I not
know where feelings that felt so instinctive and intuitive come from? I
wanted to protect Dylan, keep him safe from the pain and torment that I
knew he must be going through. But how did I know how he must have felt in
that moment? This was a person that I have not seen nor heard from for
three years, but somehow, for some unknown reason I felt connected to
him. More connected than I have ever felt for anyone else, someone who,
with only a few seconds of eye contact, seemed to be able to reach the
depths of my soul.

But yet I stood there, watching Shawn winding back his left leg and making
another connection to Dylan's stomach. "Come on you little cocksucker!
Can't even fight back a little bit, you stupid piece of shit! God what a
fuckin' waste of space," Shawn yelled. After the second kick Shawn bent
back down and grabbed Dylan's shirt, pulling him up before pushing him back
into the wall. Dylan slid about halfway to the ground, before coming to a
stop. He feebly tried to boost himself away from the wall, but Shawn was
too quick for him, in a matter of seconds Shawn raised his fist and slammed
it into the side of Dylan's face, which caused Dylan lose the little
balance he had left, and topple to the floor.

The girl that Dylan came with seemed to decide that enough was enough, and
with more courage than most, she again stepped in between Dylan and his
tormentor.

"I told you to leave Ôim alone," she said with a look that gave justice to
"hell hath no furry like a woman scorned."

Shawn inched closer to the young women. He towered over her shorter
stature, she looked to me to be somewhere in between 5'3'' and 5'5'' but
instead of talking to her, he spoke over her shoulder to Dylan. "What you
gotta get you little fag hag here to protect you? God, your even more
pathetic than I thought!"

But Shawn's main focus did not seem to be on beating up Dylan
anymore. After all he had a beautiful French girl standing right in front
of him, what would you do? But it didn't seem to Shawn that this girl might
not be interested in him, like I said before, never one of the sharpest
tools in the shed. Shawn reached forward and put his right arm around her
shoulders while his left one reached down and he pulled her close to him.

"Come on with me baby, I bet I can show you a much better time than that
little faggot down there could," said Shawn, bringing his face down toward
her own, but the girl gave an almighty heave and shoved Shawn several feet
backwards.

"My name is Renee, not baby, you fucking jackass." I was shocked to hear
those words come out of her mouth. I could tell she had a very heavy French
accent, I figured she probably lives in France and only speaks English as
like a second language or somethin' (wouldn't it be so cool if that
actually turns out to be true...just like magic), and I don't know, it just
didn't seem like those words could be in her English vocabulary, maybe
French but definitely not English. But I really shouldn't be that
discriminating, she could be a cocaine taking cereal killer who cuts her
victims in tiny pieces for easy disposal...you never know.

 Renee slapped him in the face so hard that the sound could be heard all
around the room. Shawn's hand instantly went up to the area where she
slapped him, and he was wearing a face of total disbelief. It was probably
the first time that anyone ever really stood up to Shawn and completely
rejected him. Now don't get me wrong, plenty of girls have rejected him,
I've seen quite a few myself, but he usually takes it in his stride, after
all the whole school knows the kind of person he is, doing it mainly as a
way to get attention, but I don't think any of the others has ever slapped
him.

Following the slap you could hear a pin fall in a carpeted room two hundred
miles away. I've never heard such an icy silence before, no one was moving,
I don't think they were actually breathing. Shawn and Renee stood in the
middle of the room, staring at each other with eyes as cold as ice, Shawn
with his hand still pressed firmly against his check, Renee standing
very still, like a tiger waiting for its pray to make a move. The room
seemed to be waiting for something to happen, no one knew what Shawn was
going to do, was he going to go to the new girl again, or back to Dylan, or
was he just going to walk away. Nobody seemed to know, and I didn't either
for that matter.

Renee seemed to make up her mind though, she turned her back to Shawn,
making her long black hair swish behind her as she moved over to Dylan, who
succeeded in getting up and was leaning on a wall for support.

She muttered something to him, I couldn't make it out, and he nodded. One
of Dylan's hands was still wrapped around his upper stomach, but he moved
his other one around the waist of Renee, while she grabbed him up by his
shoulders and helped move him slowly towards the door. When they went by
Shawn, still gawking like an idiot in the center of the room, I thought for
a moment that Renee was going to tackle him as she wore an expression of
the utmost contempt and hatred, but she seemed to think better of it and
continued to help Dylan out of the room.

I looked away from Shawn and the girl and my eyes focused on Dylan's
face. He had his eyes focused on the floor in front of him, while his
cheeks burned from the embarrassment of the situation. I felt so sorry for
him, so terribly guilty for everything, I could have put a stop to it, but
I didn't. I was rooted to the spot, watching Shawn torment him, too
cowardly to stop the situation. I felt like a piece of crap, but that
horrible feeling still could not get me to go over there and help them as
they made their way out the door. That fear gripped me like nothing else
ever had before, I was terrified of it.

They left the room and then the house just a minute later, and about three
seconds after we heard the front door slam shut the music was back on and
everybody went back to whatever the hell they were doing before that
evenings entertainment. I felt sick to my stomach, I didn't want to hang
around anymore, so when Shawn came back over to me and mumbled that he was
off to get another beer and find Shelby, I took the opportunity to get the
hell out of the house.

It was late when I left the party but as it was still August, it was really
warm out and I started walking down the sidewalk towards my neighborhood,
guilty thoughts flooding my mind. I tried to push them back out, but they
would not leave me alone. I sped up and soon found myself running down the
street, I have no idea what I was thinking during that time, I just keep
running and running until I nearly missed my house. I stood at the base of
the driveway staring up at the moderately sized building, hoping, praying
that it would allow me to be the person I always thought I should be.

To be continued.