Carter's Shadow - 15. Chapter 15

He rotated the pen between his fingers as he stared out of the window, occasionally clicking it twice before rotating it back the other way thoughtfully. Modern History, the build-up to the First World War (not that that was very modern, being that it was nearly a hundred years ago, but high school history programs seemed to have changed little in the last fifty years, focusing on the same material and ignoring modern modern history completely.)

He sat near to the back, with a clear and unobstructed view of all the other students. More importantly he could see Blake a few rows ahead of him. The dark-haired writer was hard at work, taking notes from his textbook. Occasionally, that dark head would turn and West would get a flash of blue eyes, as Blake would steal a glance. Now that West was aware of it, he was amused at how often Blake would do it...

"Mister Harding?" Mrs McGee asked, looking up from her desk at the front of the class. "Is there something wrong?"

"Nope," West replied, continuing to spin his pen and clicking it.

"Then why aren't you taking notes?" she asked pointedly.

It was 'busy-work', or simply work for the sake of work. It was an effort to get people to read the text, in the vain hope that by forcing them to take their own notes from the text they would actually absorb some of the information. Completely pointless, and ultimately a complete waste of time. West often felt that history was a subject to be discussed, to be debated. If he wanted to absorb the subject, why not simply press the textbook to his forehead and concentrate real hard...

"Yes, Mrs. McGee," West said, trying to shake the image--caused by his overly active imagination--of everyone walking around with books on their heads.

Blue eyes.

West smiled to himself as he bent his head back to his notebook, meeting Blake's glance with one of his own as he began to write. His imagination began to picture Blake with just the book on his head...

Blake's thin frame and pale 'pink' skin was subtly inviting, the way his neck curved into the black silk bowling shirt suggestively... West regained his dreamy look as his eyes followed that neck to the shirt, tracing down to the narrow shoulders, and along the back, trying to imagine it without the shirt.

'Mister Harding?" Mrs McGee pressed.

"Huh?" West glanced up again.

"Less daydreaming, more writing," she said, gesturing to his notebook.

"Sorry," he murmured, bending his head again.

Blake was beginning to fascinate him. He was one of those guys you don't pay much attention to right away. He possessed talent--talent the teachers were all too proud to show off, taking the credit for cultivating a natural ability that had been there long before he had entered their class. And that credit that would ultimately result in the kid in question being picked on by other kids who weren't as lucky.

The most striking thing about Blake was that he was always amused. It seemed the guy could smile through a funeral. Not that he was irreverent, but that he just generally enjoyed life in an infectious way. It was often the thing that saved him from the rougher side of being picked on by tougher and older kids. Nothing defeated a bully better than laughing back at them.

Blake would just crack a broad smile, flashing his white teeth as he laughed, his eyes sparkling as he...

West blinked a couple of times--why was he so distracted that afternoon? He just couldn't concentrate on the boring work, and Mrs McGee would start to get annoyed with him if he didn't at least try to placate her incessant demands for him to take notes.

He worked for a bit, looking up from the notebook again to the small gap in the back of Blake's plastic chair. He couldn't see much from where he was, but he could see the top of Black's baggy jeans through it, and the rearmost belt loop poking out beneath the tail of the shirt.

West swallowed, letting his eyes fall back to the paper; he'd never been so... unable to concentrate before. With everything he'd been through that day, he should be distracted by worrying over that. But instead he was sitting there thinking about the guy he would be on a date with in a few short hours. His first date.

Blake glanced back at him again, and West marvelled. How was it no one else had noticed this? Matt across the room was grinning and shaking his head, and West glared at him. The small winger's smirk deepened mischievously as he wrapped his fist around his pen and bounced it up and down on his desk suggestively.

Mel caught the gesture from the corner of her eye and glanced first at Matt, then over at West. She looked up towards Mrs. McGee; seeing the teacher was distracted by marking papers she closed her fist and tapped it against her lips, pushing her cheek on the opposite side with her tongue obscenely.

Matt barked a short laugh, as West turned red.

Mrs. McGee looked up suspiciously at her class of suddenly angelic students. She narrowed her eyes as she swept them across the room, and went back to her papers.

Matt, never one to be outdone by Mel, looked left and right, cupped his hand a foot off of his lap and bobbed it up and down in another suggestive gesture.

They were attracting other attention now. Clovis nudged Paul, and the two defensemen snickered at their teammate's antics.

Mel cocked her eyebrow, grinned, as she lolled her head back, curling her toes a bit as she writhed in her chair, her eyes rolling back and her mouth making a silent 'ohhh'. She lifted her head and looked right at Clovis blowing him a kiss, as he obviously recognized the fake orgasm.

He glared at her a second, before he turned in his chair, wrapping his hand around invisible hair, licking his palm and lifting it back to slap an invisible...

Mrs McGee looked up as Clovis ceased his gesture, coughing into his hand and leaning back to his notes.

The obscene pantomime was attracting an audience as Matt got another wicked look in his eyes, stuck both his hands up and rotated them left and right as if adjusting dials on a radio.

Mel shifted in her chair, and in a beautiful impression folded and unfolded her legs in Basic Instinct fashion. Which made all the men around her choke at the implication.

Matt nodded at her, lifting two fingers to his mouth and darting his tongue in and out....

"Matthew!" Mrs McGee's voice cut across the room.

"Busted," Mel said smugly, turning back around as Matt looked up.

"Yes, Mrs McGee?" he asked in his very best I'm-an-innocent-little-boy-I didn't-do-anything-wrong kind of voice.

"If I catch you again, you'll be staying after class," Mrs McGee stated. "I know it's Friday, I know you're all restless, but the day's nearly over. Just concentrate--all of you."

Matt continued to smirk as he went back to taking notes, and West turned back to his desk, and blinked at the folded-up piece of paper sitting on it. He eyed it cautiously, glancing around to see if anyone else had seen it, as he reached out to slip it into his hand.

He pulled it down under the desk and carefully unfolded it, checking to make sure no one was looking as he read it.

Smile.

He frowned at it and looked up to catch those blue eyes watching him, an expectant look in them. He couldn't help it, he smiled.

Blake grinned in satisfaction, returning to his work once again.

* * *

"Man, I thought that class would never get done," Matt observed tiredly as they walked through the school towards their lockers.

West was still smiling, despite everything that had happened to him that day. He'd weathered the entire day--the whispers from behind his back and the callous comments--because of one pair of blue eyes demanding a smile out of him.

The note pasted to his locker was gone; no doubt one of the teachers had pulled it down in an effort to appear politically correct. Ineffectual as usual. West just shrugged as he pulled open the locker door, stepping aside to let a group of running freshmen past him, dashing to catch their busses home.

It had been one hell of a week--from Brad and the drugs, the captaincy of the team, and Matt's humping, through to Blake and Peter, and West's coming out to the school. West was glad the week was over; maybe given a weekend, things would settle down.

Brad's week-long suspension for the drug use would be over on Monday, and things would surely get back to normal then.

"What are you doing tonight?" Matt asked, pulling out his gym clothes, stained and dirty after a week of use, and pushing them reluctantly into his book bag to take back for cleaning.

"I'm going out..." West replied absently, checking his chemistry book and trying to remember if he needed it.

"Oh, mystery date?" Matt asked with a bright grin.

"Well..." West said turning.

"Hey, West." Blake came across the corridor, holding onto his notebook and still giving his patented I'm-ok-you're-ok smile.

Matt gave West a knowing look and stepped discreetly out of earshot.

Blake shrugged, "I was just wondering what time tonight?"

"Is seven good?" West asked, returning the smile as he slipped his bag up onto his shoulder.

"Seven's perfect," Blake replied. "At mine?"

"Definitely," West said with a firm nod.

"See you then," Blake replied, hurrying off to catch his own bus home. Which allowed Matt to return to his friend's side.

"Since when?" he demanded, punching West's arm.

"None of your business," West replied, locking his locker. The pair walked back through the school towards the gym and the parking lot beyond it.

"What do you mean, none of my business," Matt replied. "I all but set you two up!"

"I don't discuss every facet of my life with you," West replied, reaching out to mess up Matt's hair.

"No, but sometimes you should. Is he good in bed?" Matt grinned.

"What is it with you and my sex life?" West asked.

Matt grinned, "Gotta have something to think about tonight when I'm masturbating."

West shook his head. "That's just gross, man," he said, laughing at Matt's suggestively waggling eyebrows.

"You don't believe me? I could show you if you want," Matt insisted with an all-too-eager nod of his head as he reached for his fly.

"Put it away," West said, pushing his friend and laughing. "You're disgusting--you know that, right?"

"Yep," Matt replied grinning. "Well, at least one of us is getting lucky tonight."

"I'm not getting lucky," West stated firmly, "it's just a date."

"So it IS a date!" Matt replied triumphantly. "Where are you going?"

West smiled thoughtfully, "I have a few ideas, but generally I want to wing-it. See what happens, you know."

"Oh I know what'll happen," Matt said, his smirk deepening.

"Shut up, or I'm not giving you a ride home," West responded as they both came out into the parking lot and into the bright late spring day that was almost summery and warm. The two teammates climbed into the Bronco, driving home for the weekend.

* * *

When he got home he saw that his mother had ironed a crisp white shirt, and had left it hanging on his door. After showering he'd gotten dressed, subconsciously picking at the shirt, trying to make it fit properly. Again fiddling with his hair in an effort to get it to look perfect.

He abandoned the messed-up look, combing the hair out again, and just letting it hang down. He parted it carefully on the left side, letting the strands of blond hair fall, just covering his right eye.

"I like your hair better like that," his mother said in the open door to the bathroom.

West glanced up at her in the mirror and smiled. "You sure?" he asked.

"You always wear your hair messy, it's nice to see it neatly combed." She came into the bathroom and inspected him, taking a moment to tuck some of the errant strands of hair behind his ears. "There you go. Very smart."

"Thanks," he said, grinning again and looking back at the mirror. "I couldn't find the tie..."

"I know," his mother said, reaching into her pocket and pulling it out, "I had it hanging up to get the creases out.

West gratefully took the red and beige pattern tie which looked like an abstract piece of artwork--stylish and modern. He put it around his neck, and tried to remember how to tie it.

"Like this," his mother said, reaching out her skilful hands to deftly twist the tie into a perfectly formed knot, pulling it up so it sat straight. She took a moment to brush it down, stepping back to look at her son, "You look like a proper gentleman," she said, sounding huskily emotional.

"Thanks, Mom," West said smiling at her. "So I look good?"

"You should wear a jacket," his mother said, studying him again.

"I don't have one," West admitted reluctantly. "My old one's too small."

"Your father's wouldn't fit you," she said thoughtfully. "What about that cardigan thing you wore last Saturday night? That should be clean and look smart."

West nodded, returning to his room and pulling out the zip-neck sweater, pulling it on overtop and doing it part of the way up. "Better?" he asked hopefully.

His mother simply sniffed. West chuckled at her, taking a moment to wrap his long arms around her and draw her in close for a tight hug. She had always been an emotional mom, and West knew that the best way to make her feel better was to show a bit of emotion back.

Joey blew a whistle as he thundered down the stairs, pausing a moment to stare at his brother. He nodded his approval before rushing off to set the table for supper.

West let his mother go and stepped back. "I should get going," he said, glancing at the clock.

"Your dad should be done cleaning out the Bronco for you. He should be in the driveway," his mother said, again tearing up. "He wants to have a word with you before you go."

West nodded, going and slipping into his dress shoes and walking out into the driveway.

His dad had unloaded most of the Bronco's contents over by the barn, and he was in the process of topping up the oil when West came out. He stepped back from the truck, wiped his hands on a rag and nodded his approval.

"You look good," he said as he fished out his wallet. "I take it I'm paying for this night out."

"You don't have to, Dad," West reassured. He still had some money tucked away in his wallet he had been saving.

"What kind of dad sends his boy on his first date without some money?" His dad shook his head as he pulled out a pair of fifties, "Get some flowers or chocolates or whatever, so you don't turn up empty-handed. You have to set a good impression on a first date." He nodded as he pressed the money into West's hands, "Also, don't try too hard; just be yourself and try to relax."

West nodded, realizing his father was more nervous than he was. In a way it was humorous, and West cracked a smile.

"...Oh, and if you are going to..." his father shifted uncomfortably. "Well, be sure you..." He gave up, reached into his wallet again and pulled out a condom and pushed that into West's hands as well.

West looked down at it, and burst into laughter, "We're just going out, Dad, I don't think we're ready for... that yet."

"Yes, well...." his father shifted from foot to foot, "just in case, you know; best to be prepared for these things, you know." He walked around to the front of the truck taking out the empty bottle and closing everything up before he slammed the hood closed. "I've topped up all the fluids, and the spare tire is in the back; it's all set and shouldn't give you any problems."

"Thanks," West said gratefully.

"Oh, and if you kiss..." his father said quietly, "use your tongue, nothing's worse than kissing a guy that doesn't kiss back."

West blinked. "I don't think I ever want to know how you know that," he said firmly.

"Just get going, before you're late, and remember: take something to the door with you!" He grinned, "Good luck."