Seventeen - 1. Chapter 1

Seventeen years! Seventeen long, confused, and altogether messed up years. That would be the best way that I could describe the journey that has been my life up until my seventeenth birthday. At seventeen you're supposedly meant to have the world at your feet, the future’s meant to seem bright, and hell I should probably be getting laid. Well, how very un-cliché my life is then.

If life as a teenager is meant to feel like you're starting your life, why on earth do I feel like it’s all going to come crashing down? It’s not like my life is bad, I mean, Jesus, life is amazing! I'm intelligent, good looking, I have my health; if it weren't for the way my parents had raised me, I would be described as spoilt. Yet I'm so confused that I hate myself at this moment. Fuck! I mean if my dad ever knew I thought this, he'd be so disappointed in me, and if there's one thing that I can't bear, it's disappointing my parents. To them I'm the model son, but if they knew how messed up I was, I don't think they'd be able to look at me the way they're looking at me now, the way every eye in the room is looking at me now.

"Brett, you ok honey?" I look up into a pair of deep, loving brown eyes, shaped like almonds; they're as familiar to me as the eyes I’ve studied in the mirror for the past seventeen years. Except these eyes aren't green, and they're crinkled by a smile, the slight lines being the only sign of age on the woman's face. Looking into my Moms eyes I wished that they could make me feel as joyful and safe as they’d done in years gone by.

"Sorry, Mom, I must have zoned out," I replied.

"Well, aren't you going to blow out your candles then champ?" my dad queried with a slight chuckle in his deep voice, the same voice that had soothed me when I fell and scraped my knees as a child.

"Don't you think I'm a little old for you to still be calling me champ?" I sniped back with a half grin and chuckle of my own. The question being both a retort and a plea, as having my best friends and extended family around me when he calls me champ is mildly embarrassing.

"Don't you think you're a little old to still be day dreaming, son?" my dad pointed out, and again urged me to blow out the candles on my birthday cake, the same cake my four year old cousin, Dylan, was eyeing hungrily.

I took a deep breath and blew out all seventeen candles in one go, turning to my mom and dad with what would be a genuine smile if it weren't for the thoughts running through my head. Turning first to my left and then to my right, I looked at both Mom and Dad.

Dad had an arm draped across my shoulders, as though I was one of his old soccer team-mates, and Mom leaned in and kissed me on my left cheek. Thinking about it, we must have looked like the all-American family, me and Dad, both athletic and handsome, the all American men, even though Dad was British born and raised. Mom, with a loving proud sparkle in her eye, the strong and independent woman, yet the doting, caring mother and wife. The perfect little family.

Looking at my parents, I could see Mary and Paul Moore, not just the parents, not just the successful doctors they were, but the couple who were still so madly in love, and so proud of their beloved son. Disappointing them would kill me. As they stepped back from me and Dad wrapped his arm around Mom, she leaned into him and they shared a look, a look which can only be interpreted as one of love and respect, but also carrying the message "Look what we've done"; no doubt the same look they gave each other after my birth.

You could certainly tell I was their son, I had the same athletic build, standing at 6ft 2, with the same broad shoulders as my dad. I was indeed almost a mirror image of my dad in structure, yet I had Mom’s "great complexion", much to the disdain of my cousin Laura, who had not inherited the skin of the women of the White family. Blessed also with Mom’s beautiful almond shaped eyes, I seemed to cause girls to drop at my feet with a glance. Again, however, Dad's genes fought back, as I had his deep green eye colour, which held such intensity, and which were able to fluctuate between a soft and loving gaze and an intensely ferocious glare that would scare a bull.

Even approaching their forties, both Mom and Dad were incredibly fit and healthy for their age, both could easily pass for 30 year olds, both had bodies better than some of the students at my high-school, and yet they stopped their family with me, saying I was the only child they needed or wanted. I found this vastly unfair; as an only child, all my parents hopes and dreams and expectations were resting upon my shoulders. Whilst they never once pressured me, I felt I was letting them down. I don't know if I can provide grandchildren. I don't even know if they'd still love me if they knew what I had trouble accepting about myself.

Whilst contemplating all this I must have zoned out again, because I jumped at the feeling of an arm wrapping around my own and a hand slapping and clasping my shoulder. Turning to my two best friends, the twins, Jane and Brandon, I actually smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day. No it wasn't just because I thought that Brandon was hot. Oh come on! If you hadn't guessed by my teen angst, that I was gay already then your IQ is as low as President Bush's. No, it was because we were the three musketeers, amigos, whatever else you could call us; we were best friends, and I loved them dearly. Just seeing them helped me forget about feeling upset. Especially, seeing Brandon, who had always made me feel safe; he was like an older brother.

I noticed Mom and Dad had left me, to talk with my aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents and even the twins' dad, Frank O'Hara, or the General as I knew him. My family mingled, whilst the twins dragged me to the corner of the dining room, to the rest of my friends.

"So you're FINALLY 17! Feel less like the baby of the group?" Sarah asked, flipping her perfectly curled peroxide hair over her shoulders.

"Yea I guess," I chuckled, glad to get out of my own thoughts.

"Shame Brand's 18, in what? 2 months?" Jess turned, giggling, to Brandon. Jess, who was supposed to be dating our friend Paul, had always had a thing for Brand. So it took all my will power not to scratch the bitch's eyes out right there (I’m joking obviously). "What about you, Jane? Your birthday's coming up soon, right?"

Everybody burst out laughing as Sarah swatted Jess' shoulder. "How many times do we have to explain? They're twins... hence the same birthday!"

"You two totally destroy the cliché!" Jane smirked, laughing at the two cheerleaders.

"Huh?" Jess asked, perplexed, looking up to her boyfriend for an answer. Paul just tightened the arm he had across her shoulders, pulling her into him for comfort, then left Jane to explain while he went for a drink.

"Basically, you're dark and need glasses, and Sarah's blonde..." Jane began explaining the ditzy cliché of how the blonde should be dense. Brandon, Sam, and I followed Paul to the dinning table for food and drinks.

"God I'm hungry," Brand announced as he began to pile a plate full of food.

"You're ALWAYS hungry!" Paul and Sam joked, then high fived each other before laughing at him.

"Yea but I'm twice your size and take you out on the field," Brand cockily corrected them, munching on a chicken thigh.

"Nah dude, that's just fat!" Paul stated, also taking a bite of something.

Brandon just raised his form-fitting t-shirt to show his abs off. Not to be outdone, Paul’s Greek pride burst out, as he flexed his solid bicep in a semi-provoking manner. I melted on the inside a little.

"Put it away before you scare the kids," I chuckled, maybe a little to shakily, as I slapped B upside the head. He just grunted and carried on eating.

No matter how many times we’d changed in front of one another, Brand's body still made me feel jealous, as well as weak at the knees. Not that Paul wasn’t hot; he had Greek heritage and was intensely proud of this fact. He was the typical Adonis, 6ft, dark hair and eyes, and olive skin. I bet Jess had no complaints.

"So you like your new car?" Sam asked.

Brandon stopped eating and glared at Sam as though he’d just taken a dump on his plate.

"Down boy," I laughed. "Dad gave me the keys this morning."

B just grinned, and Sam looked relieved. Not that Sam or Paul couldn’t take B; all three of them played for our school’s football team, hence all three were broad and, dare I say it, hot! Sam, the shortest out of our group at 5’ 8”, was half Japanese, and damned cute. He and Paul were like B and me, had known each other for years, and were best friends. Speaking of Paul… Damn that guy was eating like B!

"So where's John? Isn't he meant to be coming?” I asked.

“He’s working, but he’s coming tomorrow nigh…” Sam began, but this did earn him a smack round the head from Paul, who luckily was nearer than B, who choked on whatever else he was in the middle of devouring, and looked like he was ready to kill.

“Huh?”

“Nothing Brett, honest,” Brandon coughed out.

“Right… no surprise party then?” I asked sarcastically.

“Anyway, we better go see how the girls are… I think they’re harassing Jane…” Paul said, dragging Sam off with him.

As I turned to look at B, he just smiled at me. “Damn it! God I want him. Why am I having this crisis today of all days? I’ve coped with this for long enough. And why am I being left alone with B?” I thought. I grabbed myself a glass of champagne and chugged it; luckily Jane appeared before I took another one.

”They want me to join the cheerleading squad again,” Jane declared, rolling her eyes as though it were the most ridiculous proposal she’d ever had.

Turning back to Brandon and Jane, I noticed Brandon's bulging biceps, and how soft and full his lips looked. He really was the best looking guy I knew; everything about him just oozed sex appeal, and he was flawless. He definitely had the same sensual, almost feminine lips as his sister, which is why I tried to convince myself that I was straight and that those lips only made me hot because they were so feminine. My attention was brought back to Jane when she kissed my cheek with lips so similar to the ones I wanted.

"You ok, sweetie?" she asked, tossing her long blonde hair back over her shoulder, her always calm and pacifying face showing only the slightest glimmer of concern but it quickly passed her beautiful features.

"Yea I'm fine... Honestly," I added after Jane raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Ok baby," Jane said, squeezing my hand comfortingly. As she clasped our hands together, she gave me a loving look.

We both looked at Brandon, who stirred slightly, as though he were about to say something. As Jane's sensual blue eyes met their matching pair, something seemed to pass between the twins, and Brandon fell silent.

I always found it weird when they did this, although it wasn't a rare occurrence. Jane and Brandon always had this way of communicating silently, possibly developed from an early age. Well, they'd done it for at least for as long as I’d known them, and I've known them since we were all three years of age. Even though they shared such a strong bond, they both had taken me in, almost as a brother.

"So man, like your presents? Me and Jane still have to give you ours, although I doubt it'll be as good as the car your parents got you!" stated Brandon. A giddy, childish look crossed his face, much like the one on the face of a kid in a candy store, or the look on little Dylan's face as he sat across the room eating cake whilst his Mom and mine had a sisterly chat.

"MOM! AUNT MARY!" exclaimed Laura. I supposed my mom and Aunt were discussing Laura's latest boyfriend. Laura stormed off to join her little brother, Dylan, whilst Brandon started to drag me outside. Knowing that we were heading for the car, Jane followed us, tutting at what she deemed to be the behaviour of boys when they're with their toys.

Just as we were about to reach the door leading into the hall, Grandma Moore dragged me into a hug and wished me a happy birthday. I looked over at Brandon, who understood what I was telling him with my eyes. That I had to stay and talk with Grandma Moore because she'd flown over from England to visit, and that, no, he couldn't go and test drive my new car. Brandon was crushed, just as I was by Grandma Moore's bear hug.

My Grandparents had arrived the evening before, and I’d spent the majority of the night deep in thought, much like today, so I hadn't really spoken to my family yet.

Whilst I wasn't having the best day, and whilst I wanted to be with my friends more than anything, I was happy to see my grandparents. I hadn't seen my dad's parents in four years, and my mom's parents had been on a four month long vacation, only returning within a week of my birthday. I had missed them all dearly.

"How is my sweet cherub?" Grandma Moore smiled.

Chuckling, I replied, "Grandma, we both know that the Cherubim are hardly the cute angels everyone thinks they are. "

This caused my Grandma to beam. Grandma Moore has all the trappings and class of a proper English Lady, just without the title. Thus education and manners, both of which I have, are everything to her. As she asked about everything and anything a grandmother would care to know about the four years since she'd seen me last, I passed Brandon the car keys, as I knew I would be a while, and I just wanted to put a smile on his face.

I noticed Laura and Grandma White were talking, and as she pointed over at me and Jane, Granny White came bustling over to Granny Moore's side, and the subject turned to my 'girlfriend', Jane.

"Why haven't you told us you're dating Jane? I thought you were just friends? I was beginning to wonder about you, my dear boy. I mean I've heard of late bloomers, but 17 is leaving it a long time. I was married at 16 and carrying your mother when I was little over 18." I both blushed at my Gran's statement and seethed at Laura for telling her.

Now don't get me wrong, I love Laura, my bad-skinned cousin; we've grown up together and were as close as brother and sister. She was 16, and so closer to me in age than her brother, Dylan, so of course we often fought like cat and dog. However, telling our grandmother about my 'relationships' was a bit sly of her.

"So how long have you been dating?" both women asked, more at Jane than me, while I stared daggers at the smirking Laura. I could tell that the Matriarchs of my family wanted to drag Jane off to question her. I imagined my two grandmothers shining a table lamp in her eyes, demanding to know if she's ready to settle down, how many kids she wanted, and what colleges she planned on sending them to when they grew up.

She seemed to get the same image also, and squeezed my hand as if to shout, "HELP!" I looked around to find Mom, who, seeing the situation, sensed the problem immediately and came to our rescue. She walked over and offered my grandmothers a piece of cake, and winked at me as she led them away, allowing Jane and me to escape, with Brandon close behind