Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Biscotti - 4. Chapter 4
19 was US19, where one could find many small restaurants and pizza places, a teenager’s dining smorgasbord. I drove a familiar route to 19, one I have driven many times with my parents.
“Brad, if you live out here, why do you go to our school? You are out of our district. Which way now?”
“Turn right here. I had some problems at my old school, so my dad had me transferred to your school. It seems he went there several years ago.”
I wondered what kind of problems. He was a nice guy and seemed to get along with everyone. “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of problems?” Expecting an answer, he was quiet. When I looked at him, he had tears in his eyes. Now I was sorry, I asked. I never wanted to hurt him or anyone else. I pulled the car over to the side of the road. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I said, “It’s ok, you don’t have to answer. It is none of my business.”
He looked at me, and he was crying. I gave him a pack of tissues from the glove compartment. Whatever happened at his old school hurt him. “Look, let’s forget I asked that question, ok?”
He looked at me; I could see his mind turning, “If I tell you, promise me you’ll keep it a secret till we graduate.”
“I promise to keep anything you tell me in confidence, always. I don’t break promises. If you’re comfortable telling me, tell me; if not, wait till you are comfortable.”
He dried his eyes, “I need to tell someone - I need a good friend. One of my football buddies started a rumor as a joke that I never dated any of the girls because I liked boys. We were in the locker room - just finished dressing after practice. When he said this, I reacted and had tears in my eyes. I felt my world just blew up. I ran from the locker room and straight home. My mom asked me what was wrong, so I told her.”
“Wait, you like boys and not girls?”
“Yes,” He moved as to leave the car.
“Where are you going? Shut that door.”
“You’ll hate me now and not want to be my friend.”
“Why? I like boys also!”
He turned and looked at me. I was sure he thought I was teasing or trying to embarrass him more. I leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “Now, let’s get you home.”
I noticed he kept looking at me as if he was trying to determine what I said was real. I looked at him, and he looked confused. I took his hand and kissed the back of it. He was funny. “I don’t think I’ll wash my hand this week.”
I started to laugh, and soon he was laughing as well.
“Oh, you need to make a left at the light.”
We were laughing so much, and I missed the turn. I was focused on Brad and semi-focused on the road. I knew I couldn’t get over in the left lane, so I slowed up, and as soon as I was through the light, I looked for a place to make a ‘U’ turn.
"There - you can turn around in that 7-11 parking lot.”
I turned into the parking lot and turned back to the road. When I reached the light, I asked, “I turn left here, right?”
“No, you turn right.” I had the turn signals on, indicating a right turn. I got a slap on the back of my head.
“Ow! Now you have to kiss it to make it better.”
I started to laugh. The look on his face was priceless. “Well, I’m waiting! My head is still hurting.” I turned my head so he could kiss the back of it. Then I felt a quick kiss. “Oh, my head feels so much better.”
“I’m not sure about you. You are so different from what you are in school. There, you seem to have no humor - everything about you is so serious. What is happening? Are you on drugs?”
“In school, I am serious. If I’m going to get a scholarship, I must be at the top of my class academically. I’m not good at sports, and besides, I’m too short for most sports. I’d get killed in football, and no, I’m not on drugs.”
I placed my hand on his leg and squeezed it. When I looked at him, I started to laugh. “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies.”
“You need to turn here and take the first driveway on your left.”
I followed his instructions and stopped in front of a very nice home. “I want you to come in and meet my parents. I think you may be here often.”
Before he could open the door, I pulled him toward me and kissed him. When I broke it and looked at him, his eyes were still closed. So, I went in for a second kiss. Only this time, he grabbed me, and a light kiss turned into a deep kiss. When we broke apart, he had a big smile on his face.
“Wow! I didn’t expect that!”
“Neither did I, but I like it. I like you. Let’s do it again.”
I was all for it when the porch lights came on, and a woman came out on the porch. “Brad, is that you?”
We both started to laugh. Brad got out of the car and waved to his mother. “Scott, come in and let me introduce you to my parents. They’re going to see the sparkle in my eyes, and they’ll want to know why.”
“Ok, but I must contact my parents, or they’ll be worried about me not being home right after the game. I’m not normally like this. I think you’re the Viking Loki and are bewitching me.”
That did it. He started to laugh as we walked into his home. I followed him into the kitchen, where his mother was drinking a cup of coffee with his dad. “Mom, Dad, this is Scott. Scott, Mom, and Dad.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mom and Dad. Mom, may I use the phone to let my parents know where I am, and all is ok.”
“Certainly, Son, You may use the kitchen phone, and when you’re done, I’d like to speak to your mother.”
I called Mom and told her that I took one of the football players home. “His dad couldn’t pick him up, and he asked. Yes, I’ll tell you all about it. Oh, Mom wants to talk with you.” I handed the phone to Mom
“Do you want a soda?”
“No, thanks, but a glass of water would be nice.”
Sitting at the table, Brad’s dad asked about the game. Brad played down his role in winning the game. “Dad, he’s not telling you everything. We scored five times, and Brad scored four of those. He played a fantastic game! The coach was strutting around like a bantam rooster.”
“How do you know about bantam chickens?”
“My dad grew up on a farm, and he’d talk about the animals. When I would brag about something I did, he called me his bantam rooster.”
“Brad, take some cookies and show Scott your room.”
Brad took a plate of cookies. I followed him to his room. I sat on his bed while he put the cookies on the top of his dresser. “Now, I have you under my control.”
I started to laugh. Brad sat beside me and started to tickle me. I began to laugh while saying, ‘No... please stop’. But he didn’t stop and kept teasing and finding all of my tickle spots. I guess we made a lot of noise, “Brad, let him up.”
“Thanks, Mom; where’s the bathroom, or I might have an accident.”
“Brad, show him. If he has an accident, you’ll clean it up!”
Brad did show me, and I was in such a hurry. I didn’t close the door. As I finished, I felt a pair of arms around me, pulling me backward.
I turned and looked up. Brad was 6-2, and I was at best 5-7, with shoes on. He tilted my head up, and the kiss he gave me made up for all those years when a boy didn’t kiss me. “Brad, I like you very much, and I think you like me as well. We need to go slow. You need to work on your football and studies so you can qualify for your football scholarship. I need to concentrate on my studies to be sure I’ll qualify for an academic scholarship. There’s no guarantee we’ll go to the same college. You might get an offer from Ohio State or Georgia Tech. There are only three for me because I cannot stay on campus; I’ll stay home. We need to go slow so we both can achieve our college goals.”
“What if I don’t want to go slow? I remember you from the first day at your school. All I saw were two legs sticking out from a locker. It wasn’t till I passed your locker I saw you, complete. I was excited, and then I remembered my previous experience. I looked for you at the games, and when I saw you tonight, I played my best because you were there. When you told me that you liked boys also, it was as if I was blessed, and everything was going to be ok.”
- 24
- 21
- 1
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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