You're so Weird - 3. Chapter 3

I pick my phone and am relieved to see that I woke up before the alarm. I get up, as quietly as I can, pick super glue from my backpack and sneak into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind me. Feeling like a secret agent, I fetch the fleshlight from the cabinet—yeah, I actually looked it up to know what it's called—happy to find it exactly where I left it. It looks like it’s not a part of Liam’s daily ritual or anything. I sit cross-legged on the floor and place it, carefully this time, in front of me.

I'm not exactly a pro at hands-on stuff, especially when it comes to fixing things, but how hard can it be, right? I carefully lay down a thin line of glue along the edge. Looks pretty good to me. My hands tremble a bit as I fit the broken piece back into its place. The glue oozes out the sides. Maybe I used too much? But it slots in perfectly. I press down as hard as I can, and despite the mess, it doesn't look half bad.

I take out my phone and quickly look up how to get rid of glue from stuff. The internet tells me to find some nail polish remover or something like that, but well, it's a boy's bathroom. There's nothing useful here. I consider using Liam's cologne, but getting caught smelling like him? That would be a bad look. But then I spot a bottle of rubbing alcohol and with a scrub pad, I manage to clean up the glue mess pretty well. I check it from every angle and damn, I'm actually a bit proud. Sure, if you squint, you can still see where it cracked if you look very closely, but it's not something you keep at your eye level that much, if you get my drift. Unless you mean the one-eyed snake, tehee. Satisfied, I give it one last wipe with a towel (you know, to remove fingerprints), and put it back.

Shame I didn’t actually get to use it. Now I don't think I'll ever dare to. I think I have a tendency to break stuff. Like last year, when I broke my arm falling off a bike. Still twinges sometimes.

The day at school is pretty boring. I chat to a few kids, but no one seems like friend material, with or without benefits. I get called names and pushed by two older looking boys for no real reason. Maybe one of them was John Anderson. Luckily, a teacher comes from around the corner and they leave me alone.

Liam hardly notices me, sticking with his jock buddies. Maybe he's right that I wouldn't vibe with them. But he does catch up with me after lunch.

“How's your day?”

“Boring,” I shrug.

"I've got basketball with the guys later, so I won't head home right away. Mom will pick you up, though."

“Okay.”

For a second, I thought he was gonna ask me to join them. I’m kinda sad he didn’t, even though I know I’d pass.

Maggie is ten minutes late, signaling me to take a seat next to her. Not that she needed to. I can hear the twins singing along to a song on the radio at the top of their lungs. How do they still have this much energy after school? It's wild they're even related to Liam. At least it keeps their mom from asking me difficult questions.

Maggie parks the car in the driveway and we come inside. I still feel out of place, like I’m visiting just for a moment and expected to be gone before dark. I envy Patrick and Brody, not a single worry in their lives.

Coming in, I barely look up in time to catch a rugby ball aimed my way.

“Throw it back!” one of them shouts at me, positioning himself across the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t you take it outside?” I ask.

“Yeah! Let's go outside! Moooom, can you park the car somewhere else?”

Maggie appears in the hall stuffing a few envelopes inside her bag. “Yes I can, Brody, I'm going to the bank and you're coming with me.”

“When are you coming back?” Patrick yells, his voice echoing over the sound of running water in the bathroom.

“Very funny. Both of you, in the car, now!”

“But Mom, we can stay with Mike. Right? Pleaase!”

“No, you cannot. You will send him to an early grave.”

I bite my lip, thinking. I really should find a way to pay back their hospitality, scary as it sounds to babysit the twins.

“It's fine with me, if it's not for too long,” I say, more to convince myself than her.

I see in Maggie's eyes that she'd love nothing more.

“Are you sure? I’ll be gone thirty minutes tops. But these rascals can make it feel like eternity.”

“I think I can handle half an hour,” I say, trying to sound convincing.

She's having an internal debate, like it's do or die. Maybe for her, it kinda is. Right then, Patrick steps out of the bathroom, working his zipper and giving us those big puppy dog eyes.

"Alright, but you better not make me regret this," she warns them, finger pointed for emphasis, then looks my way. "Thirty minutes, max. If things go south, call me. Or, hey, call the cops if you need to. But it won’t be necessary right?" she glances back at the twins. They nod together so hard their heads almost fall off.

"Why am I regretting this already?" She sighs, then heads out the door.

“Yeah, let's go play!” Brody throws a fist in the air and runs outside. I'm taking a mental note of the red t-shirt he's wearing. Patrick and I follow him, watching Maggie start her car.

Their driveway is pretty big and far from the main road. There's a medium-sized pool by the fence, filled only with dirt, sticks, and leaves. I wonder if they’re planning to fill it when it gets warmer.

I suck at most sports, but throwing the ball around is something I can do. Watching Patrick and Brody actually cheers me up a bit. They’ve grown past their little kids phase but still have this pure energy, untouched by adolescent problems and urges. We play around for a while, until Patrick decides to grab the ball and run inside, yelling “catch me if you can!”

Brody runs after him and I follow inside with a sigh.

“Where are you, dirty scoundrel!” Brody shouts as we search for Patrick. And as soon as I peek inside the TV room, the rugby ball flies right past my head and hits the window, by some miracle not breaking it. Then it bounces off and strikes a houseplant, one I can't name, knocking it to the floor, dirt scattering everywhere.

Patrick pops out from behind the couch, trying not to laugh. "Oops," he says, but his grin betrays him.

“Oops?” I yell at him. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“You cussed!” Brody squeals, as if that’s the biggest issue here.

“I'm sorry!” Patrick cries. “I thought it was Brody!”

“You almost broke the window, you idiot!” I snap. Patrick looks hurt, but I'm too shaken to care. Maggie wasn't kidding. They really are little demons with zero self-control.

I grab the ball and stash it on top of the kitchen cabinet, out of their reach. Unless they get a chair, but I'm not thinking that clearly right now.

“Nooo!” they both whine, sounding like it's the worst punishment they've ever faced. I really hope that's not true, but I'm starting to doubt it. My mom would disown me for less. Out of love, of course, but she'd do it.

“You really pissed me off!” I shout and head to my room. I'm not just saying that. I know Maggie wouldn't blame me, but I'd feel terrible if she came back to a broken window. I throw myself on my bed, trying to cool off. After a bit, I hear two sets of footsteps entering my room.

“Mike?”

I open my eyes. They look really worried. When I don’t respond, they come closer and sit on the bed beside me.

“I’m sorry for Patrick, he was always the dumber one,” Brody says.

Patrick punches his arm. “This is not true!. If your head was where I thought it would be...”

I sit up, feeling my anger bubble up again. “Stop blaming each other. You both should be grounded.”

Brody puts his hand on my thigh and makes big puppy eyes. “We’re sorry, for real! It was an accident.”

“We’ll go and clean it up,” Patrick tries to smile. “And then we play some more, right?”

“We can play hide and seek!”

“We’re not playing anything. You’re lucky I haven’t called your mom yet.”

“Nooo!!!” They both grab my arm, trying to hold me back. “Miiiiike, please! Let’s play hide and seek.”

“Right now, I feel like strangling you both. I’m not in the mood. Go clean it up and do your homework, or I’m telling your mom, and she’ll never let you stay with me again.”

"Fine," Brody mutters, dragging his feet as they both head out of my room. I listen to the silence that follows, half expecting them to start some other chaos outside my door. But all I hear is the vacuum cleaner working downstairs, then nothing. I expect them to come back and bother me, but they don’t. It's quiet. Too quiet.

After a few minutes, I decide to check on them, half expecting to see some new disaster. But they're sitting at the kitchen table, pencils in hand, brows furrowed in focus over their homework. The plant is restored to its former glory, and even the dirt is gone from the carpet.

“Need any help with the homework?” I ask.

“We’re good,” Patrick says. “You can sit with us, though.

I don’t have anything better to do, so I grab a chair and scroll Instagram for hot guys while they work. I relax, adjusting my erection every now and then. I noticed I’ve been getting them much easier and more frequently. Jerking off doesn’t do it for me anymore.

Almost an hour late, Maggie gets back, and the boys are still at it with their homework. Glancing out the window, I spot her with Liam, who gets out of the car still in his basketball gear.

“Hi Mom!” Brody greets her with a wide smile when she comes upstairs to check on us.

“We’re almost done with our homework,” Patrick joins in. “Can we play on a console when we’re done?”

“What did you do to them?” Maggie asks and I just shrug.

“They’ve been acting like angels,” I say and earn grateful smiles from the boys.

“Somehow I doubt it, but at least they didn’t blow up the house. I’m impressed.”

She disappears in her room and Liam comes from behind her back. He looks beat. His blond hair is slick with sweat, sticking to his forehead and neck. Looks like he just finished his game minutes ago.

“Hey,” he greets me and raises his fist for a bump.

“Hi,” I say, pleasantly intimidated by his energy as he stands there.

"Can you come upstairs real quick? I need your help with something."

"Sure, I guess. Just a minute, gotta finish up here."

"Cool," he says and heads upstairs. I watch him go, my mind racing with all the fanfic scenarios about what he might need help with. A massage? Quick handjob? Whatever you need, I’m your man.

“You guys are good?” I ask the twins.

“Yeah,” Brody says. “Come play FIFA with us later.”

“I’ll see.”

Following Liam to our room, I catch a glimpse of him peeling off his shorts. There’s a small sweat mark at the edge of his light hair, trailing under his white boxers. At least I think it’s sweat.

“You said you needed a hand… Should I come later?” I ask meekly, hesitating at the door.

He tosses his basketball shorts under the bed and glances at me. "No, I need you now."

“Okay.”

"This is a bit embarrassing," he admits, lifting his arms. "I need help getting this tank top off. It's stuck to me, and I can't pull it off without risking tearing it or dislocating my shoulder."

“Uh, how do you usually do it?” I ask, acting casually.

“I just bought this thing. Maybe it’s too tight, or my sweat turned into super glue. Maybe both”

I laugh nervously. “Okay, let me try…”

Approaching him, I grip the hem of his tank top. It's damp from his sweat. If it was someone else, I’d probably find it gross. Touching his skin, I try not to get too carried away. The fabric sticks to him, and I have to roll it up carefully to remove it. As I reach his chest, I'm distracted by the sight of his armpits and the few light hairs there. His scent is unexpectedly appealing, a mix of sweetness and his deodorant. I fight the urge to bury my face into him and inhale. Finally, the shirt comes off over his head.

"Ugh," he grunts in relief. " Thanks. Thought I'd have to cut it off. One done. Now, the undies."

I open my mouth wide trying to say something. Is he for real? Is my biggest fanfic fantasy coming to life?

“Look at you!” he chuckles. “Don’t worry, I got that one.”

“Very funny,” I say, going red on my face and give him back his tank top. But he hands it back to me.

“No, keep it. It’s for your hard work.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I need that…” I protest sensing another trap.

“No, I’m serious, take it. It’s too small for me, but it should fit you just fine.”

“Are you calling me skinny?” I squint my eyes.

“You’re welcome. You may want to wash it first.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I say and throw it onto my bed. I’m not sure I’ll be washing it very soon.

“Anyway, start getting ready,” Liam says and walks into the bathroom. “We’re hitting the mall with Olivia in an hour.”

I hesitate. I still haven’t figured out his weird hints from yesterday. “Uh… you sure you want me around? I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

Liam’s out of my view now but I hear him removing his underwear in the bathroom. “She told me not to come without you so… yeah. Also, she’s bringing a friend along, too. She really wants you to meet each other.”

My heart sinks. Just great. Olivia is trying to hook me up. Don’t I look gay enough? I thought girls could sense such things better. This is gonna be so awkward. Maybe I should tell them right off the bat. “Hey, my name is Mike and I like cock.” Painful, but could save me a lot of trouble in the long run. But then again, what would Liam think?

I can hear him start the shower. He didn’t even close the bathroom door. Maybe I could take a little peek inside? But just as I consider it, he shouts to me. “She said she’s planning to hit the shops before the arcade. Prepare for a long stay!”

I move a bit closer to the door. Maybe I should come inside so he can hear me better… “It’s fine, I don’t mind, Unless she expects me to pick her clothes.”

“She always makes me do it. You’re not into fashion?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any sisters and my mom always shops by herself.”

“How is she?”

“Better,” I respond, wishing I had more to say. “Was expecting her call today, actually.”

“She’ll call,” he says but offers nothing to back it. Still, I appreciate it.

“Thanks,” I answer and step back to sit on my bed. I check my phone. No missed calls. I wonder if I should call first, but she’d reach out if she could.

I hear the shower stop, and a moment later, Liam emerges with a towel around his waist. I watch him as he passes me - his bed is on the other side of the room. My eyes widen when I see the top of his ass crack peeking out. He's naked. Unfortunately, he just hops onto his bed and starts playing with his phone.

“Go shower. I don’t want us to be late,” he says.

“Uh, yeah.”

I leave the bathroom door open, just in case he wants to talk—or check in on me. I shower as quickly as I can, not wanting to miss him putting on fresh underwear. And yeah, I know what I'm doing. I'm obsessing over a straight boy who has a really cute girlfriend and probably isn't even remotely considering me in that way… But I can't help it. The thrill of the chase is too addictive to give up. Or maybe it’s my tendency for self-destruction… I'm sorry, Mom.

I dry off hastily, brush my teeth, and wrap the towel around my waist. I've never really mastered this skill. No matter how I tie it, it keeps falling off. After several attempts, it finally stays put, but just barely. I return to the room and see, with relief, that Liam is still on his bed in his towel. He'll have to drop it eventually.

But for now, I've got my own issues. As I bend down to open my underwear drawer, my towel decides to yield to gravity and drop to my feet. I hear Liam chuckle behind me as I quickly pull it up and hold it with one hand, not bothering to tie it again.

“This thing always keeps falling,” I say, my face turning red.

“Because you’re doing it wrong!” Liam says and jumps to his feet. “Look”

I turn to see him jump and run in place. His towel stays - sadly - firmly around his waist.

“Wow,” I say, not really convinced, but Liam’s unphased.

“Right? Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done, it will change your life!”

“Uhh… okay,” I reply, my heartbeat picking up. I like where this is going, but am a bit surprised by his good mood. We stand facing each other, and I wish I had taken care of things in the shower. I'm seriously chubbing up as I watch Liam slowly unwrap his towel.

“Do as I do. Don’t be shy,” he instructs, opening his towel and holding the edges. I inhale through my teeth. There it is. Liam’s peen again. I want to cry. I want to get on my knees and pray. His voice shakes me off. “Dude, are you there?”

“Uhhh…” I manage and with my shaking hands, I do what he did, revealing myself to him fully. My semi is more than obvious, but I don’t care anymore. Even if it goes rock hard, well, I was just following orders. At least it compensates for our size difference. But… maybe I’m imagining things, but Liam’s dick just got slightly bigger too…

“Perfect,” he says. “Now, follow my lead. Take the right side…”

“But I’m left handed!” I say, and immediately realize how stupid it sounds. But my mind is elsewhere. My voice is shaking and eyes glued to his crotch.

“It doesn’t matter. Right side, then left... Good. Now the important part. You okay?”

“Yeah… I just…”

“Stop being weird about it. So yeah, just grab the top edge of the towel and roll it down. Just a few times. Tighter! Yes, like that. And there you are. Give it a go, do a few jumps.”

I feel super silly and self-conscious but hop in place, and the towel holds like a charm.

“See?” Liam says.

“They should teach this at school,” I joke, chuckling nervously, forcing myself to look him in the eyes.

“Right? All the useless crap we’ll never use, and this? Real survival skills. Want to go again, or did you get it?”

My throat goes completely dry by now, and I must look like a psycho. “Well, I’m… can we go again?”

I’m not sure if I like the funny look he gives me. Is he trolling me?

But then he slowly unwraps the towel again. He’s very obviously chubbed up.

I mimic his moves and reveal myself. For a second, we just stand there, not even trying to pretend we're not checking each other out.

“What’s it like to be left-handed?” he asks slowly.

He picked a strange moment to ask, but I’m strangely enjoying it. “Once you get used to being different from everyone else, you don’t really think about it.”

“Huh…” he ponders for a second. “That’s deep. Anyway, look very closely…”

He should know that I’m already looking very closely. If I wanted to look more closely, I’d have to stuff my face in his crotch. I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t think that’s what he’s suggesting. We slowly go through the routine again, even though I don’t really need to. But I feel I could ask him to do it over and over again.

“See? Easy. You owe me one,” he says, and before I can react, he pinches my nipples playfully, making me squeak. “Now, let’s get dressed, we’ve got a double date to go on.”