Dancing on a Star - 2. Chapter 2

I started to blush when I realized I was staring into Tracy’s face. The word to describe him best would be beautiful. I know guys aren’t supposed to be beautiful, but he is. His eyes are kind of like a turquoise color. My mother has a ring she wears that is that color. His blonde hair is short and curly, and his skin is flawless, not one pimple like most teens our age have covering our faces.

“Jack?” My father’s voice interrupted me staring at Tracy.

“What?” My father gave me a puzzled look. I guess I sort of had a dreamy look on my face. Tracy’s features had taken me by surprise.

He pointed to the cabinet. “Grab that corner.” Tracy moved beside me to help lift while Dad and Mr. Craft lifted the other side. When I attempted to lift, Tracy moved next to me and our bodies touched. I almost dropped my end of the cabinet.

Sensing my nervousness, Tracy looked at me and smiled slightly. For a split second, I think he recognized my reaction to him, and he found it amusing. I’m sure others are struck by his appearance when they first see him.

“Ready, Guys?” Mr. Craft asked. “On three, lift your side and move it to the left about six feet. One, two, three.” I grunted as I lifted my end of the cabinet. I looked at Tracy, and he seemed to be having a more difficult time than me. We moved the cabinet about a foot before we let it drop.

“Dad?” I suggested. “Maybe you should help me while Tracy helps his father.”

My father looked at Mr. Craft and laughed. “Lightweights,” he said as he moved around beside me. Tracy moved over and stood next to his father.

I pouted, “Well, it is heavy. Jeesh. I only weigh 120 pounds.” I grinned and added, “I don’t eat a box of doughnuts for breakfast.”

Mr. Craft let out a loud laugh and said, “He’s got you there, Jerry.”

“I don’t eat a box of doughnuts,” my father insisted. “Just three or four.”

I looked at Tracy, and he was smiling as my father and his continued to joke about who was heavier. “I’m quite proud of my dad bod,” announced my father as he patted his stomach. He looked over at me and stated proudly, “Just hope you look this good when you’re my age.”

“When I’m your age, I’ll be in a nursing home,” I replied jokingly. Tracy burst out laughing. I looked over and thought again, “Damn! Those green eyes!”

We attempted to move the cabinet. This time it was much easier. My father did most of the lifting while Tracy and I stared at each other.

“This calls for a soda,” said Mr. Craft when we finished. “Tracy, go see if the cans are cold yet.” I watched as he turned and headed into the kitchen.

Mr. Craft asked, “What grade are in at school, Jack?”

“I’m a junior, Sir.”

He smiled and responded, “I told you that you can call me Stan.” I looked over at my father to see his reaction. He has always taught me to respect my elders. Rule number one was address them as Sir and Ma’am. He nodded his head.

I smiled and replied, “I’m a junior, Stan.”

Just then, Tracy came out of the kitchen carrying four cans of soda. After handing them out, his father told him to show me his bedroom. Tracy nodded and then headed for the stairs. I hesitated before following him. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be left alone with him. I was afraid I might have outed myself by staring so intently at him earlier.

We walked down a long hallway, and Tracy’s room was located toward the back. A small girl ran out of her room and brushed against him. “Watch it!” she hollered as she rushed by.

“That was Amelia,” he informed me. “She’s a brat.”

I laughed and said, “She’ll get along great with my sister, Karen. She’s a brat, too.”

He opened a door, and we entered. There were boxes everywhere. Clothes were strewn on top of the bed which hadn’t been made. He pointed around and said, “Well, this is home.”

I noticed a sadness to his voice when he spoke. I was also surprised that his voice was rather feminine. If I had closed my eyes, I would have thought that I was speaking to one of the girls in my class.

He tossed aside some clothes on the bed and made a space for us to sit. “You don’t sound like you’re too happy to be here,” I remarked.

He sighed and replied, “It will be alright, I guess.”

“Why did you move? Was your Dad transferred or something?”

“More like or something,” he responded sadly. I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.

I turned and looked into his face. I couldn’t help staring into his eyes. For some reason, they had a hypnotic effect on me. I cleared my throat and asked, “What grade will you be in?”

“Junior.”

“Hey, Cool!” I said excitedly. “Maybe we’ll be in some of the same classes.”

He stood, walked across the room and replied, “If you’re lucky, we won’t be.”

By now, I was becoming rather confused. He didn’t seem to want to be here, and I was puzzled by his last comment. He seemed shy, and perhaps he was afraid of making friends. Maybe moving was traumatic for him. I know it would be for me if we moved after school had started, and I had to enter a new school. If it wasn’t for Jimmy, I probably could go the whole day without speaking to anyone.

I stood and stepped up beside him. “I have an idea.” I attempted to sound cheerful. “Our football team is having a game tonight. How would you like to go with me?”

He looked around the room. “I have too much work to do here,” he said. “I’ll take a rain check.” He walked to the door and left. I followed him downstairs. My father and Stan were still talking in the dining room. Tracy led me over to the door and opened it.

“It was nice meeting you,” he said coldly. I felt that he was trying to get rid of me. I wasn’t sure what I had said to upset him. When I turned to wave, he closed the door.

I went to my room, stripped off my clothes and jumped into the shower. While the water ran over my body, I kept wondering what was wrong with Tracy. From the time I met him, he seemed to want to keep his distance. I would have thought he would be excited to have someone his age living across the street. Besides that, we would be in the same grade. I had hoped that we could become friends. Although, it would be difficult to be around him. Every time I look at him, I become uncomfortable with his looks. I’m afraid of outing myself because I can’t stop staring at him.

Those green eyes. “Ummph!” I moaned as I shot a load against the shower wall. I grabbed my mouth and hoped that no one heard me.

I jumped when Karen started beating on the door. “Hey, Jack! What are you doing in there.” I could hear her laughing as she continued down the hall. She’s only eight, but I’m sure she already knows about sex.

After dressing, I called Tyler to see if he had left for the game. Since he lives three blocks away, he said his father wouldn’t mind picking me up.

Jimmy and some of the other guys were already sitting in the stands when we got there. “About time you got here,” he said as we sat down. Sitting with him was Bryan Michaels and Terry Jordan, another neighborhood friend. Terry ran track, and he wasn’t on the basketball team.

We consumed six hot dogs, four soft pretzels, three large bags of popcorn and four large soft drinks. Terry has a part-time job working after school at a video store in the mall, so he purchased most of the food. “Damn,” he complained. “I’m broke,” he informed us after purchasing the last hot dog.

Jimmy smiled and responded, “But you love us.” We laughed when Terry flipped him off and walked away.

Our team won by six points. Jimmy called his father, and he was waiting for us outside the stands. He told Bryan and Terry he would take them home, but Terry’s mother pulled up, and he and Bryan ran over to her car.

When we arrived at my house, Jimmy suggested that we sit on the front porch for a while. “It’s still early, and I don’t feel like going home.”

We continued to talk and make plans for what we would do the next morning. We often ride our bikes to the mall across town. Jimmy loves going to the arcade and playing the video games. “Maybe we can stop in and see if Terry has any videos on sale.”

Suddenly, he stopped talking and looked across the street at an upstairs window. “What the hell?” he asked. I looked over and noticed a silhouette in the window. It appeared to be Tracy’s room.

Jimmy asked angrily, “What the fuck is he doing?” It appeared he was dancing. He would position himself, and then twirl in a circle. We watched for several minutes without saying anything. I found it interesting, but I could sense that Jimmy was getting upset. It looked like Tracy was dancing like a ballerina. I remember when we were in the seventh grade, our music teacher had a group of ballerinas from a local ballet company visit our class and demonstrate some to their moves. I think it was intended to get the girls interested in becoming dancers.

“Jesus,” hissed Jimmy after watching him for several minutes. “He’s got to be queer. No normal guy is going to be doing shit like that.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I resented him saying normal guy, but if I said something, he would begin to question why I was taking up for Tracy. I wanted to be careful not to out myself to him.

“Maybe he’s just clowning around,” I suggested.

“Naw,” replied Jimmy. “This is shit he’s been doing for a while. He’s too good to be just clowning around.” I had to agree with Jimmy. I’m not expert on dancing, but Tracy did seem to be quite good at whatever he was doing.

“I was going to tell you to invite him to go to the mall with us tomorrow,” said Jimmy, “but after seeing him do that shit, I don’t want to have nothing to do with him.” I wanted to defend Tracy, but I decided to keep quiet.

“I mean, I ain’t got nothing against queers,” he continued, “but I just don’t feel right hanging around them.” He looked over at me. “You better stay away from him too, Jack.” I nodded my head.

He then stood to leave. Before walking away, he took one more look at the window. We could still see his silhouetted body twirling around his room. “Man, that shit is sick,” huffed Jimmy as he started walking down the sidewalk towards home.

I sat on the porch and continued to watch Tracy as he danced around in his room. I wished that the blinds were open, so I could see him better. It looked like he might have his shirt off.

I know it was wrong for about a zillion reasons, but I found it kind of hot. His graceful moves excited me for some reason. Maybe it was because I had never seen anyone dance like that before; well, except for the ballet dancers at school. Even then, I talked to Jimmy because we found it boring.

I watched a few more minutes, and then Tracy seemed to bow gracefully. His silhouette then disappeared from the room. Minutes later, his light went out. I sat several more minutes hoping he would turn it back on, but I guess he had gone to bed. After standing and stretching, I went inside and watched a college football game with Dad until I got tired and went to my room. Before going to bed, I went over to the window, pulled back the curtains and looked over at Tracy’s room. There were no lights on inside, so I assumed everyone had gone to bed.

“Goodnight, Tracy,” I whispered softly before closing the curtains and climbing into bed.

******

“Morning, Sleepy Head,” my mother sang out as I walked into the kitchen. “You finally got up?”

“Yeah,” I replied as I glanced up at the clock. It was 10:18. Normally, on a Saturday, I won’t even think about crawling out of bed until noon, but I had promised Jimmy I would go to the mall with him. He likes to go early because he says that is when most of the hot girls would be there. I’ve still never figured out what Saturday mornings, malls and hot girls have in common. Sometimes we would walk around for an hour before Jimmy would find a ’10.’

Dad came in the back door and looked to where I was sitting at the counter. “Good,” he exclaimed. “You finally got up.” He motioned across the street. “Come over to the Craft’s when you finish breakfast.”

“Why?

He replied, “Stan wants us to go to the lumber yard and help him load some wood into his van. He’s going to build a deck on the back of the house.”

“Dad!” I responded excitedly. “I can’t help. Jimmy will be here soon, and we’re going to the mall.”

“You can go to the mall this afternoon,” he insisted as he looked up at the clock. “Call Jimmy and see if he wants to go with us, we can always use the help.” He closed the door before I could refuse.

I was at the kitchen sink cleaning my cereal bowl when Jimmy opened the door and entered the kitchen. “Come on, Dirtwad,” he said excitedly as he grabbed his crotch and pulled on it. “The babes are waiting for some man meat.”

I started laughing hysterically. “Man meat! Where the hell did you learn that word?”

He laughed and said, “My brother was watching porn on his computer last night, and I heard someone say it.” Jimmy has an older brother who is twenty-two and still lives at home. He has a steady girlfriend, but he insists he wants to wait a few more years before he settles down and marries.

I turned and threw the dish towel at him. He caught it and tossed it back. “I can’t go right now,” I informed him.

“Why? You said last night you wanted to.”

“I do,” I insisted. “It’s just that Dad wants me to help him this morning. He said you can help too. When we finish, maybe he’ll drive us there.”

He asked suspiciously, “What do we have to do?”

I hesitated a minute before telling him. I knew what his reaction would be. “Dad volunteered me and him to help Mr. Craft go get some wood at the lumber store. He’s going to build a new deck.”

“Ain’t he the new neighbor across the street?”

“Yeah.”

“Nope,” replied Jimmy angrily. “I ain’t helping if that new kid is going to be there.”

“Oh, come on, Jimmy,” I responded. “Why are you acting this way? You haven’t even met Tracy yet.”

“Tracy?” he replied. “Even his name sounds gay.”

“Now you’re being an ass,” I muttered as I headed for the door. “Go to the stupid mall by yourself. I don’t care.”

He walked over to me and asked, “Why are you getting upset for? Don’t tell me you want to hang around a gay kid all day?”

“Fuck you, Jimmy,” I responded angrily. “Some friend you are.” I walked out the door and slammed it shut.

As I was heading across the street to the Craft house, Jimmy opened the door and hollered out, “What did I say wrong?”

Tracy was sitting in the back of the van when we walked across the street. He looked about as excited as I did to be going to the lumber yard. I couldn’t decide if it was because he would rather be in bed on a Saturday morning, or if he objected to me going with them.

My father patted me on the back and said, “You go jump in the back while I go around back and see if Stan is finished with the measurements.” Reluctantly, I walked over and opened the back door.

Tracy was looking out the window, and he didn’t even look over when I scooted into the back seat. “Hi,” I said.

“Hey,” he responded without emotion.

“Sucks we have to do this, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied as he stared out the window.

I sat back, looked out my window and thought, ‘This is going to be a long day.’

On the way to the lumber yard, I kept looking over at Tracy. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to talk to me. I’m kind of a loner, and it is hard for me to start a conversation with someone I don’t know. But I had given Tracy every opportunity to talk.

One of the things I wanted to discuss was what I had seen him doing in his bedroom last night. However, I wasn’t sure if I should. Maybe I had watched him doing something he didn’t want anyone to know he does. Like I would die if someone saw me jerking off in my bedroom and asked me about it. Maybe it is something he keeps a secret, and he might hate me for knowing. I had caught my sister several times standing in front of a mirror with a brush singing to a Justin Bieber song. She would let out a shrill shriek and then run over and slam the door shut. Perhaps that is what Tracy was doing.

Stan pulled up outside the lumber yard and stopped the van. “Here we are, Boys,” he announced as he opened the door and got out. He turned to Tracy and asked him to let down the seats so we could load the wood into the back. He didn’t say anything to me as we did as his father asked.

It took us over an hour to load the wood. We had to walk about fifty feet, grab a large plank and then load it into the back of the van. His father stood back and said to my father, “I think we’re going to have to make two trips.” We had only gotten about half the load, and there was little space left in the back.

Tracy asked, “Where are we going to sit?” There was barely any room left.

“We’ll have to make room,” he replied as he and my father began to rearrange the boards. When they were done, there was a space about two feet wide for us to crawl into.

Tracy stood back and shouted, “You want us to crawl in there?”

His father laughed and replied, “We’ll I’m certainly not going to.” He looked at my father and asked, “You want to, Jerry?”

“Hell, no!” laughed my father. He held his sides and said, “My fat ass can’t fit in there.” He looked at me and said, “Jack, you go first.”

“Me!” I shrieked. “Where do you expect me to sit? Can’t we just stay here until you get back?”

Dad shook his head and replied, “We need you to help us unload. Stan and I can’t carry all these around to the backyard by ourselves.”

“But, Dad,” I whined as I pointed at the van. “There’s no room back here.”

“Nonsense,” exclaimed Tracy’s father as he walked over and inspected the back of the van. “You boys are small. You can both fit in there.” He pointed at Tracy. “Tracy, jump in and show Jack how it’s done.”

Tracy walked to the van and looked in. His father lifted him so that his feet slipped into the narrow space. He then scooted to the rear of the van.

“See, Jack,” exclaimed my father. “That’s how easy it is.”

“If it’s so easy,” I replied angrily, “then why don’t you do it?”

“Come on.” My father held out his arms and lifted me head first into the van. I scooted back until I felt Tracy’s shoulders. “Lift up,” my father ordered as he helped me scoot back across Tracy’s body. I could hear him grumbling below me.

“Good job,” my father said as he slammed the door shut.

I had never been more uncomfortable in my life. My lower body was pressed tightly against Tracy’s upper body. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it the twenty minutes ride.

I was getting ready to holler out to my father when Tracy began to move under me. “My arm is asleep,” he complained. He attempted to change his position when his hand dropped to the front of my pants. I was wearing thin board shorts, and I was afraid he would be able to feel my cock.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “but my arm is killing me, and I can’t move.”

I froze. With his hand resting atop the top of my pants, only one thing could happen- my cock started to get hard.

“Oh, no, God! Please, no!” I prayed silently. Each time the van bounced, Tracy’s hand would hit down upon my cock, making it even harder. I stopped breathing when he wrapped his hands around it and felt it. He then quickly removed his hand.

“Sorry,” he whispered as he tried to raise his hand so it was no longer touching me. “It’s just that I can’t move.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered back. “I can’t move either. Just do what makes you comfortable.”

“Okay,” he replied. He adjusted himself a little more. But when he did, his hand rested more firmly on my erection. “Sorry,” he apologized again.

I started giggling. “I can’t believe this,” I said as I continued to laugh.

He started giggling too. “It is kind of embarrassing.”

“You’re not the one being embarrassed,” I laughed.

I couldn’t believe it when he squeezed my dick and muttered, “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.” I thought I was going to shoot a load into my shorts.

“Hold on,” he said as he attempted to move again. This time, he moved his hand so it was resting on my hip. It still didn’t end my problem. I remained hard all the way to his house.

Thanks for reading Chapter Two of Dancing on a Star. I hope you're enjoying it. Please leave a comment, like or love.