Slide - 1. Slide

For a brief moment I had the sensation that I was flying. I didn’t know what had happened. One second I’m about to kiss the guy of my dreams, the next I’m falling like a rock. My brain couldn’t even begin to realize what had happened. All I knew was that no good could come of this.

I heard the sickening crunch and knew instantly that my leg was broken. My body crumpled to the pavement, and it felt like I had been hit by a train. The pain that followed traveled up and spread out through my veins, igniting my nerve endings like a smoldering flame. A scream built up in my gut, but through clenched teeth I was able to hold it back, but a few tears of pain managed to seep out of my eyes.

A sadistic laugh rang out through the night air, from directly above me. My blood ran cold, and I momentarily forgot my pain for the fear that rose up in me.

“I’ll bet that hurt!” he yelled down at me. I knew I had to get away. He would be coming down for me any second, and if I didn’t hide, I wasn’t sure what he was capable of.

He did just throw me off of a five story parking garage.

I looked down at my leg. The bone just below my knee was jutting out at an odd angle, and there was a dark red wet patch on my jeans. The second I saw the damage, the pain flared up again so badly I nearly passed out.

I started to crawl away, toward the relative safety of the building across the street. I knew if he found me, he would probably kill me. But I had to try. I had to hide.

And fast!

My hand brushed over a piece of jagged rock, but I barely registered the pain as my hand started bleeding. I was leaving a trail behind me, dark red and nasty looking, but I couldn’t do anything about it. He was coming.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he yelled, closer now.

I reached the building and made it around the back. There were a few doors leading into the building, what looked like a cellar, and a trash compactor.

The trash compactor was out. All he would have to do is lock the door and press a button and I’d be dead. I decided to try my luck with the doors, hoping beyond hope they were unlocked.

The first door I came to made me realize there was no way I could get into the doors. It was locked solid and wouldn’t budge a centimeter. I looked around and realized I would have to try my last option, the cellar. If it was locked, I was fucked.

I could hear the faint crunching of footsteps nearby. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears as I dragged my broken body toward the cellar.

“There’s nowhere you can hide that I won’t find you!” he taunted. He laughed sadistically again, a note of complete insanity in his voice.

I reached the cellar, and to my surprise, I found it unlocked. I pulled open the wooden doors and pulled myself inside, shutting the door as quietly as possible. There was a faint smell of must and spoiled food in the cellar. I heard some skittering from the far corner, and resisted the urge to scream as images of cockroaches and spiders flooded my mind. My overwhelming fear of anything with more than four legs had been with me my whole life, but I knew to give in now was to sign the warrant of my imminent death.

Time stretched on. It seemed as though I had been down in that dark and smelly cellar for hours, but I knew I’d only been down there for a very short time. I could hear the sound of the occasional car pass on the road nearby. I began to hope beyond hope that maybe I’d lost him. Relief started to flood my heart.

Then the door to the cellar was ripped open, and I was yanked out of it by my hair.

He pulled me up so that we were face to face, and that sickening smile cut across his features. A smile I’d found sexy not one hour ago.

“This is it, Alex,” he said in a light, happy sounding voice. “Time to…”

“WAKE UP!” my roommate shouted into my ear. I sat bolt upright, my heart pounding in my throat.

“What the hell?” I asked nobody in particular.

“Dude, you were having a bad dream,” my roommate told me. My roommate John had been my best friend since junior year of high school. He was the best friend I’d ever had, and had shown me the true meaning of friendship when I’d come out to him a year ago.

“A dream?” I asked stupidly. “It seemed so real.”

“Yeah, well welcome back to reality,” he said, giving me a strange look. “It’s one o’clock, and if you want to make your date tonight, you need to get your ass moving.”

My date wasn’t until six, but we’d had a running joke that I could never make it anywhere on time. So what if I was late three times in a row to my creative writing class? She shouldn’t have made it so early in the morning.

“I’m not going,” I told him. After the dream I’d just had, I doubted I’d ever go out on a date ever again.

John rolled his eyes at me. John had set up this blind date a week ago, and I’d been bitching about it ever since. I’d been saying I’m not going off and on for the past week.

“And what’s your excuse this time?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Now thoroughly annoyed, I recounted the events of my dream to him.

“That’s it?” he asked incredulous. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

But he hadn't been there. He hadn't lived the dream. He hadn't felt the terror, or the real physical pain. He hadn't felt the fall from the fifth level of a parking garage, nor had he felt his leg fracture.

“You’ve been coming up with stupid reason after stupid reason not to date for months now!” he said. “I’m worried about you! We all are.”

Our friends had been whispering behind my back, worried that I was depressed or something. They’d been pushing me to date for a while now. None of them understand that after my last dating experience, I didn’t want anyone. I just couldn’t trust someone again.

“Jack was a one time thing, Alex,” John said, apparently reading my thoughts. “You need to get back out there, get…”

“If you say ‘get back on the horse’ one more time, I swear I’m going to beat the hell out of you,” I glared at him.

He grinned, and shook his head at me.

“What could it hurt?” he asked. “You show up, and if he’s a jerk, you go home. Plain and simple.”

“Unless he throws me off a building,” I pointed out.

“Alex, it was just a dream,” he said reasonably. “Have you ever had a dream come true before?”

I thought for a minute. There was the one time when I was little that I dreamed that I had wet the bed, then woke up to find that I’d actually wet the bed. I don’t think that counts.

“Well, no…” I began.

“Then what’s the problem?” he said exasperated. “It’d be different if you’ve had psychic dreams or something.”

John was a bit of a sci-fi buff, like me. I got the distinct feeling he was making fun of me, but I couldn’t really tell. That was the nature of our humor, no one else really got it. You should have seen the look on our English teacher’s face senior year when he told the joke about the three Ferangi and the temporal vortex.

“I don’t want to argue, John!” I threw my hands up in the air. “I’m not going, and that’s final!”

“Alex…” he began, but I cut him off.

“No, don’t even try it, it isn’t going to work this time,” I said. I knew what he was about to say, and I knew if he said it, I’d be intrigued. Intrigued enough to consider going on this stupid date. And John knew it too. He had that smug grin on his face, looking at me as if he knew he’d won.

“He’s cute,” he said, holding in a laugh.

“Don’t care,” I retorted. “And how would you know, Arrowhead?” We’d had this argument so many times over the past few months it was almost rehearsed. The first time I called him Arrowhead, he completely forgot what we were arguing about, and the adorable confused look that came over his face was so cute it should be illegal. I think it might be in some states.

Arrowhead, as in “straight as an arrow”, by the way.

John laughed at me, and said, “I’m not blind, Penishead.”

Penishead as in…well, you get the idea.

“Still, I don’t care if he looks like…” I paused to think of a cute guy.

“Joseph Gordon Levitt?” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t care if he looks like…” my mind caught up with what he said, and my eyes goggled. “He looks like Joseph Gordon Levitt?”

The second I heard my own voice, I wanted to strangle myself. Worse, the smug look on John’s face told me that he knew I was beaten.

Damn him and his ability to know exactly the kind of guy I was attracted to.

“Don’t look at me like that, this doesn’t change anything!” I said, a little too defensively.

John’s smile faded, and an almost sad look came over his face.

“Look, I know you’re scared,” he said, and when I started to protest he continued as if I hadn't said anything. “Anyone would be. But it’s time for you to stop living your life in fear. There are times in your life where you are going to have to make a stand. Fight for what you want, what you know is rightfully yours.

“Sometimes you’ll be taken advantage of,” he continued. “That’s a given. When you put it all out on the line, there are those who will see that immediately and will try to exploit you. That’s when you have to let it slide, man. You have to face the fact that there are some things that aren't in your control. So you let them slide. If you don’t, and you keep dwelling on them, you’ll never be able to move on. If you let them see they’ve gotten to you, that they’ve gotten you down, you’ll never win. Sometimes you just have to take the risk, stand up, puff out your chest, and keep walking.

“I know it seems like a lot,” he was on a roll now. “But in the grand scheme of things, isn’t it worth it? Isn’t love worth all those risks and then some? When you look back on your life, don’t you want to be able to say, ‘despite my fear, I took that risk’ instead of ‘I stayed home alone in my dorm all night’?

“Isn’t love worth fighting for?” he asked, spreading his arms out as if illustrating how obvious it should be.

“I…It’s…”I stammered.

“Don’t answer that,” he said, giving me a look of pity. “You know it is. Love is worth dying for. What’s a little fear compared to the power of that?”

I looked at him, my mouth open in shock. Frankly, I never knew him to be so…motivational before. Even if everything he said was terribly clichéd. That doesn’t stop it from being true.

“Now, I’m supposed to meet Suzi and Mike at the mall in twenty minutes,” he said. “I figure, that gives you about ten minutes to shower, change, put on your makeup, and change your maxi-pad, and then I’ll drive us over there,” he said, winking at me when he made the crack about the make-up and maxi-pad. “The restaurant you’re meeting Devin in is just across the street. Be ready in ten or I’m leaving without you.”

He turned, and walked out the door to go to his car. It didn’t escape me that he was giving me the perfect opportunity to do exactly what I wanted to do in the first place, not go. But the truth was, his little speech energized me. I was actually kind of looking forward to this date now, and for the first time in a long time I found that childish hope that had long since been absent rise up in me.

I quickly moved to the bathroom, and started the shower. It took a few minutes for me to adjust the temperature to the right setting, but when I’d gotten it how I like it, I stepped in. For a few moments, I just let the water cascade down my back, feeling the warmth move down my body, as if draining my troubles away. It was an oddly erotic feeling, something I hadn't felt in quite a long time. After my last relationship, I hadn't really felt like doing anything sexual at all. It was as if my libido was broken.

I shook my head, clearing it. I didn’t have the time to be thinking about that right now.

I shampooed my hair quickly, and scrubbed my whole body with my “pomegranate and mango” scented body wash. I loved this body wash. I knew my ex Jack hated it, because it made me “smell too girly” but I didn’t care. It was one of the very few things I openly defied him about. After about the seventh or eighth time I used it he stopped slapping me around for it. He found other reasons to do it, but he never used the body wash reason again. I think he figured I just wasn’t going to stop using it.

I shook my head again. Why was I thinking about Jack? That only leads to…depression, and I don’t need that right now. He made me feel like such an idiot all the time. Like I was so utterly worthless that I actually started believing I deserved him hitting me. Of course, I knew better. My conscious mind knew how sick that was. But there was some part of me, a small part, that when I look back on our relationship I can't help but think ridiculous thoughts. That if I had tried a little harder, if I’d done a little better, or if I was just a little smarter, he would have loved me a little more. I know he never loved me, and he never would. A guy like him is incapable of the simple concept of loving.

No, all he ever wanted was sex. All he ever cared about was himself.

I rinsed my hair and body, and looked down at the drain as the soap swirled down it. It was as if I was watching my old life, my old doubts swirl down that drain. I smiled at the thought of that, and of the liberating feeling of…freedom that came with it.

I turned the water off, grabbed a towel, and started drying off. When my feet were dry, I stepped out. I hate it when someone just steps out of the shower, still all wet, and gets the rug soaked. I've walked into the bathroom to pee countless times after John had taken a shower and gotten my socks wet. I hate wet socks.

I finished drying, stepped into my boxer-briefs, and left the bathroom. Leaving the floor as dry as when I came in. I moved over to my dresser, and pulled open the top drawer, which had my nice, ironed shirts inside.

I’d just put on the sexiest shirt I owned, a kind of shimmering, silky maroon button down, when I heard the front door open.

“I said ten minutes, not fifteen!” John shouted in mock annoyance. I looked over at the clock and found that had actually been seventeen minutes since he walked out. I smiled and flipped him off, and he went back outside. I had known all along that he wasn’t going to just leave me, so I hadn't bothered to hurry. He knew he’d won.

I pulled on a pair of faded jeans that were a little tight, but not terribly noticeable. I then put on my sandals to complete my “cute college boy” look, and met John in the hall.

“Damn, boy! You are looking fine!” he said in what was the absolute worst stereotypically gay voice ever.

I just grinned, and said, “Wouldn’t want to stay home alone in my dorm all night.”

He returned my smile, and said, “Damn right.” He ruffled my hair before putting his arm around my shoulder, and together we walked out of the building, out into the unknown.

* * * * *

For the next four hours, I did nothing but try to have a little fun. I knew right off the bat that it was going to be a good day, because I walked into the arcade and the first thing I saw was my favorite arcade game of all time. It was a random fighting game, but in my opinion the only good one. I picked my character, a samurai, and proceeded to kick the crap out of all the characters in the game. Everything from a cute guy with nunchaku, (nun-chucks to those not in the know) to a creepy looking dude with bondage straps all over his body and big knives on his fingers. I must have had like twenty challengers when I’d finished off the computer, and for a while I didn’t lose once.

There was a tap on my shoulder, and I turned my head to look. It was John.

“You aren't trying to get out of your date by playing video games, are you?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

I looked down at my watch.

Shit, it’s five forty-five! I thought.

John laughed at the look on my face, and said, “If you run you might be able to make it.”

I smiled, gave John a quick hug, and took off for the restaurant. I slowed down to a fast walk about halfway there, and sprayed on some cologne. Didn’t want to be smelly when I walked in.

The restaurant that John had set it up in was a small Italian place that had really good food. I walked in, and went to the desk at the front.

“Hi, I should have a reservation at six o’clock for Alex Mitchell?” I asked.

She checked her list, then looked up at me.

“Sorry, there isn’t an ‘Alex Mitchell’ on here,” she said.

Thinking John used his name, I said, “How about John Peterson?”

She checked again.

“Nope,” she said with a sympathetic look. “Sorry.”

I thought for a minute. I was sure this is where it was supposed to be. I didn’t think John would put it under Devin, my date’s name, because I had no idea what Devin’s last name was.

Then it hit me.

And I wanted to hit John.

“How about, ‘Peter Head’?” I asked.

The server looked doubtful, but checked her list anyway. Her eyes widened in surprise when she found it, as if she was totally shocked it was there. She looked up at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Peter Head?” she asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

“I need to kill my room mate,” I said with a smirk.

She chuckled, and said, “Right this way, Mr Head. Your guest has already arrived.”

I looked down at my watch, and found that I was actually about three minutes early, so he must have gotten here really early. I wonder if he was as nervous about this as I was.

She led me to a booth secluded in the back of the restaurant, where we would have a little privacy. As I got closer, I saw a young guy sitting at a booth by himself, nervously fiddling with a napkin. I had a brief moment of panic when I thought he was the guy from my dream. The guy that had thrown me off a building. But as he turned his head more to the side, I realized that either my brain or my eyes were playing tricks on me. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw us approaching, and stood up.

He was cute, but no Joseph Gordon Levitt. But he certainly wasn’t bad looking. But the way he looked me up and down, his eyes crawling all over every inch of my body made me feel strange. He had a smirk on his face, as if he really liked what he saw.

I guess I should have been flattered, but it just seemed…creepy to me.

He extended his hand, and when I took it, it felt slightly cold.

“Hi, I’m Devin,” he said in such a bad attempt at a sexy voice, I had to struggle not to laugh. I don’t think he took my smile that way though. His grin broadened, and he tried to give me a seductive look with his eyes.

Oh God, I thought to myself.

“I…I’m Alex,” I said, still fighting off the giggles.

A look of confusion crossed his face, and he said, “I thought your name was Peter?”

* * * * *

About an hour or so later, I walked back into my dorm room, where, not surprisingly, John was waiting.

“So, how did it go?” he asked with a grin.

“Terrible,” I said. He frowned.

“Alex, you can’t just…” he started but I cut him off.

“I know, John, but he really was an idiot,” I said. “He couldn’t follow half of what I was talking about, and all he really wanted to talk about was either football or sex.”

John’s frown melted away, and changed into a sheepish look. “I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t really know him all that well,” he said. “Come to think of it, in class where I met him, all we really talked about was football. And when I asked if he wanted to go on a blind date with you, he said, ‘Is he cute?’.”

I laughed. “And you thought this was ‘the one’ for me? I hate football!”

John laughed along with me.

“I guess I was pretty stupid,” he said, grinning.

“Next time you try to set me up with someone, make sure his personality is more than one-dimensional,” I said, smiling broadly. “He has to get the joke about the three Ferangi and the temporal vortex. Or, he has to at least know what a Ferangi is.”

“Next time?” John asked hopefully.

“Oh yeah, there’ll definitely be a next time,” I said. “After all, Isn’t love worth fighting for?”

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