Slash Work - 10. Squabbles of the Heart/Less Talking, More Sexing!

Chapter 10: Squabbles of the Heart/Less Talking, More Sexing!

Well, as I had expected, there have been mixed reviews on the story at large. Nanna Manners is getting confused whenever I break the flow of the story to put in a flashback. But at least she’s still enjoying herself. Comedian was the complete opposite. He liked the constant change in writing style; found it refreshing. He also liked how I didn’t drag on and on with the latest conflict. J. Caesar officially claimed himself to be Team Guy D, which doesn’t make any sense to me, but whatever. Ignore my main couple. I DON’T CARE. Snarkingprince found the ending to be sweet, but is saddened that things seem to be coming to a close.

Of course, I got plenty of reviews from guys, wanting me to solve all their problems for them. Even after I EXPLICITLY STATED in the Author’s Notes that I couldn’t do as such, and that they should consult a specialist or something. They just kept sending them in. Maybe they just don’t read the Author’s Notes. Maybe I should put my message somewhere in the story itself.

Chad started showing up to class again, obviously. The jock now smiling more than ever. Gee, I wonder why that is?

I started seriously contemplating about telling the authorities about those disturbing phone calls. The thing is, firstly, I don’t have them anymore. I deleted all the text messages I’ve gotten for the past several days. So now I have no proof. Secondly, of those I’ve deleted, I deleted them before I actually checked to see what they’d said. So I don’t even know if the last few text messages I’ve received were even from the guy who’s been sending those perverted messages to me. They could’ve been from Chad or Mom for all I know. I guess I’ll just have to wait it out until the guy strikes again. Hopefully it won’t be a literal strike against me.

And here’s something I want to complain about! That guy, the one who has that hideous mole on his face, TOTALLY bumped into me today in class and didn’t say “excuse me!” I mean, it wasn’t no accidental brush past me to his friends either. It was one of those snubs you get back in high school when somebody who didn’t like you “bumped” into you and accused you of bumping into him! No apology or nothing! Just kept on walking to his friends, reeking of whatever it was that he had just smoked. For Pete’s sake, don’t you know that those things are hazardous to your health? I hope you get Black Lung Disease, or whatever it’s called!

And Matt’s pretty much forgotten that I existed. I still take a glance at him every now and then. He’s still kinda hot. In that disheveled, first-thing-in-the-morning look kind of way. But I can’t too much now. Mainly because: A). I don’t want him thinking that I like him in that sort of way; and B). I may possibly have some sort of boyfriend now. I smile just thinking about it.

Which leads me to my break between classes. I’m in a secluded area, laptop in hand (or lap, I guess), staring at the blank computer screen. What to write? THINK, DAMMIT! ‘Oh plooooot. Where are you?’ I am THIS close to getting Guy A and Guy B together! THIS close! That’s an incredibly insignificant amount of space! Oh, I know!

I’m feeling incredibly fucking paranoid. I feel like everybody knows. The guys on the team. Coach. My clueless roommate. I feel like they all know that we kissed. Or rather, HE kissed ME. Of course, after the initial surprise, I kissed him back. I feel like the entire thing was on some hidden webcam, and that it was being broadcasted to everyone I know. It’s a preposterous idea. I know that no one could have possibly found out, unless they have a REALLY good gaydar. And even if they did, why didn’t they pick up on me before? Or Guy B for that matter?

He wants to start holding hands. Guy B, I mean. I tell him no. I’m not ready. I can’t handle suddenly coming out of the closet. All those stares. All the whispering. Does he honestly think that the team will take this lightly? I’ve read about the sadistic, homophobic football coaches before. I know what they’re capable of. I don’t want to go through that. Plus, Coach fits the bill for that type of person exactly.

He’s starting to get more touchy-feely with me. He starts invading my personal space more often. He comes closer to me than he should. He does this a lot when we’re in public. I try to explain things to him, but he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t see what the problem is. Love is love. If they don’t like it, who cares? That’s what he says. He just doesn’t get it.

“Hey.”

I look up quickly, surprised to see Chad’s face. I hurriedly clicked all the windows closed, regretting the fact that I didn’t save. I just lost the last three paragraphs. I’ll hopefully remember the gist of it later on.

“Hey,” I said back.

He immediately looked suspicious.

“What were you doing?” he questioned.

“Just writing a paper,” I lied.

“Uh-huh. And why did you feel the need to close all the documents as soon as you realized that I was here?”

I started sweating in nervousness. Of course I hadn’t told him about the story yet. I never got around to it. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of him this early in the relationship.

“Ummm...I love you?” I tried, feigning as sweet of a smile as I could muster.

He smirked first, then just busted out laughing.

“Dude! Did you really think that that was going to work? I can’t believe you just said that! In public of all places,” he laughed.

I laughed along with.

“It isn’t THAT public.”

“Whatever, dude. I’ll let up for now, but you’re going to tell me what you were doing eventually.”

“Yeah sure uh-huh,” I said quickly, clearly not intending to tell him anything. I quickly tried to change the subject. “So what are you doing here? You usually aren’t here this time of day.”

“I just got out of the computer lab. I had a paper to write,” he said, smiling, clearly seeing through my strategy and going along with it. And also mocking what I said earlier. Ouch, being mocked by a dumb jock.

“Yeah, I’m sure you did. What was it about?”

“Chronic lying by college men,” he smirked.

“Oh? And how’s that coming along?” I said with a smile.

“Well, I just got my research data done.”

“Don’t you have to have the subjects sign a waiver, saying that they’re allowing themselves to be used in the paper?” I challenged, having written papers with interviews in them before myself.

“Professor said that I can either have them sign a waiver or fuck them senselessly. Both are equally valid.”

I busted out laughing.

“Well I’m not participating in your ‘research’ either way,” I stated. “I don’t think I’m ready to submit myself to either of those conditions just yet.”

He put on a mock example of disappointment.

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

“Oh come on now...why so serious?” I HAD to say that.

“Dude. No,” he reacted to my obvious quoting.

Just then, my cell phone loudly buzzed. We both looked at my pocket with puzzled looks. I think it’s safe to assume that Chad’s not calling me right now. I fished out my phone and took a look at it. It showed that I had an incoming text message. I immediately thrust the phone back into my pocket.

“What was that?” Chad pried.

“Nothing. Just a text message from somebody,” I semi-lied.

“I thought you said that no one ever calls you on your cell.”

“Well, not no one. I mean, I have a cell phone for a reason.”

“Oh. I guess that’s true. So, who called? Was it anyone I know?”

“No. One of my other friends,” I flat out lied this time.

“Oh,” he said. He stayed silent for a few seconds, clearly thinking about something.

“What did he say? You looked kinda pissed when you saw your phone. You two fighting or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” I said, glad that he gave me the perfect cover-up.

“Too bad, man.”

We talked for what was left of my free time. I’m going to have to start acting like a ninja in order to be able to work on my story without getting interrupted by someone. Maybe work on the story while sitting on a tree branch or something. I left for my next class while Chad stayed behind, opting to work on some homework. Bastard. If he hadn’t used up all my time talking to me, I could’ve gotten some of that done as well. When we start having gratuitous sex, I’ll have to fuck him extra hard.

My Literature class was a complete bore. Why did I sign up for this? I already know how to read and write. I already know how to analyze a piece of work. Why am I, a junior in college, required to take this class? This better raise my GPA a whole number.

After what seemed like forever, I was finally able to leave. With my last class out of the way, I headed back to my apartment. What a surprise it was to see Chad already there, waiting just outside my door.

“Hey,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

He looked angrily at me.

“Dude! What the hell?!” he yelled.

I flinched and stepped back in surprise.

“What?”

He came up to me. I honestly thought that he was going to hit me. I raised my arms to shield myself from the blow. But no blow came. I looked past my raised arms to see him holding my cell phone in his hands. When did he get his hands on that?

“When did you...” I started.

“Yeah, you left it back at the chairs where we were at earlier today,” he admonished, still livid. Why was he so angry?

“Do you KNOW what it says?!” he continued.

“What what says?” I asked.

“That message you got earlier today!”

“No.”

“Here. Let me show you,” his voice now changed to a menacing, but controlled tone.

He fiddled around with it and then held up the screen to me. I had a feeling that I’d know roughly what it’d say.

‘yah i no u lieked it last time. no u wanna get fukd by my fat cock again.’

I paled. It was worse than I’d thought it’d be.

“Chad....I...” I started to explain.

“Oh! But it gets better!” he said. “‘Cause I went through the history, and saw all the other ‘unregistered’ calls, too! You may have deleted them from your inbox, but you didn’t delete them from your trash box!”

Now I went from pale to blushing. Dammit, how was I supposed to know that I had to delete those calls twice? I’m not an expert cell phone user. I barely know how to use the “Hold” button!

“What the fuck, man?!” he went back to yelling at me. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?! Why didn’t you tell anybody about this?! Do you know that this could very well be the same guy that tried to rape you last week?!”

“Well, obviously, yeah.”

“Then why didn’t you go to the police with it?”

“I thought that the guy sending the messages was just playing around at first...”

“AND THEN HE TRIED TO RAPE YOU!!!” he shouted.

“Can...can we go inside with this? I don’t want the neighbors to hear this.”

“Fine,” he stressed.

Quickly, so as to not make him even madder, I fished out my keys and unlocked the door. Once we were both inside, and before I could even close the door, he began to yell at me again.

“How could you keep this a secret for so long? You were DAMN lucky that you survived that night! You know that?!”

“Alright! I’m sorry! Geez, you don’t have to yell at me! Why don’t you just add more salt onto the wounds?! I didn’t know that things would escalate like that! Nobody would! And for your information, one of the reasons WHY I didn’t tell anybody was because I was afraid of them reacting exactly like you are now!” I yelled back. “And I didn’t want to tell the police because I knew that they’d leak it out campus-wide and soon EVERYBODY would know that I got raped and, therefore, am gay! Do you know how many snide comments I’d get from people every fucking day if that happened?!”

“Dude,” he said, his demeanor calming down some. “The police wouldn’t do that. I’m sure they have a strict confidentiality policy or something.”

“Yeah and when has THAT stopped word from getting out to the masses?” I shot back, sarcastically.

“Dude, I’d defend ya,” he said, in what had to be a legitimate strive for sweetness in his voice.

“I’m sure you would,” I said back. “Which would probably only confirm the whole ‘gay’ thing.”

“Would you mind?”

“Hm?”

“Coming out. Being gay and open and stuff. Like now. Would you be okay with holding hands in public and stuff?”

I had to think about it. It would be a major step for me. Nobody but Chad knows that I’m gay. Him, and all the people online who read my story. And that was only because somebody thought I was a girl, and I had to “come out” as a guy to everybody. And then there’s my family...

“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, I don’t really know anybody on campus whom I’d have to keep my identity a secret from. But then there’s my family. And I don’t know exactly how they’d react.”

“That’s understandable, dude. I wasn’t really expecting you to jump at the chance anyway.”

We quieted down a little after that.

“I’m sorry I jumped on you like that,” he said a few minutes later. “I should’ve gone about it a little more calmly. But you have to see things from my point of view.”

“I do, Chad. You were worried. You were concerned for my well being, despite past events having already happened. I would be too, if we were in each other’s shoes.”

“Yeah. Still, I’m sorry, dude.”

“I’m sorry I yelled back.”

We seemed to magically gravitate toward the couch. It obviously wasn’t built with the intention of supporting two guys laying down side by side on it, so on top of Chad I went. I flopped an arm to his side, blindly seeking the remote control. Not finding it, I shifted a little so that I could locate the mystical item of wonder and awe. Upon finding it, I reached for it, only to have Chad snatch it up instead and flip on the TV. That bastard! We watched many hours of mindless TV. Before we knew it, it had gotten dark out. Our dinner, being too lazy to go out anywhere, was sandwiches and whatever I had in the cupboard. And milk. I usually don’t drink milk unless as a last resort. I’m definitely gonna get groceries soon.

“You’re talking to the police tomorrow about those phone calls,” Chad said with a mouth full of peanut butter and ham sandwich. Yes, I know. He’s a freak.

“What?” I asked, half not believing what he said and half not knowing what he said due to food complications.

He swallowed his food. “I said, you’re going to have to talk to the police tomorrow about those phone calls you’ve been getting. Once it escalates to a physical attack on you, it’s no longer just a prank.”

I stayed silent for a beat. “I don’t know.”

“Either you do it, or I’ll take your phone to the police and do it myself,” he threatened.

“Fine. I’ll do it. No need to go to the police office saying that you’ve stolen a phone and you’d like for them to see it,” I said, emphasizing the stupidity of his plan.

“Well, when you put it like THAT, dude...”

And though I’m pretty sure that we both had homework or something to do for tomorrow, we both made our way back to the couch. The TV was still on. Chad’s going to spike my electric bill through the roof. I can just tell. We resumed our positions on the couch. Chad would totally crush me if he laid on top of me for more than a minute or two. A couple hours later, Chad was fast asleep. How did I know? I felt a slight dampness when I brushed my hand across his lower jaw. Unless, of course, the notion that all jocks ARE drooling idiots is true. Then he could be awake. But I highly doubt that. About half an hour later, realizing that I was about to conk out as well, I shut off the TV and drifted into sleep myself.

A knock at my door awoke me several hours later. I glanced at the clock: 3:37AM? What the hell? Who could be knocking at this hour? I dragged my sleepy butt off the couch, making sure as to not wake Chad, and shuffled myself over to the door. I managed to trip over my bookbag in the process. Dark as fuck in this room with no lights on. I messily unlocked the locks on the door and proceeded to open it.

“Who is...” I managed to get out.

Unfortunately, whoever it was wasn’t patient enough to let me finish my sentence. Instead, they opted to sucker punch me in the stomach, making me double over in pain. I cried out from the pain as well, just to let him know that it hurt. ‘What the fuck?! Why am I being attacked?!’ Hands grabbed at me and forcefully dragged me out into the hall, where the stranger proceeded to throw me against the wall. He then quickly walked over and grabbed at my belt. ‘What the fuck? He’s undoing my belt? Is he...is he going to...’

Suddenly, the stranger’s hands were off my belt. Actually, the stranger was off me entirely. I looked up to see him several feet away from me. It looked like he had been thrown. Looking a little to the left, I saw Chad, chest heaving, looking royally pissed. His fist clenched to the point of turning white.

“Who the HELL do you think you are?” he demanded, in a weird twist of hissing and yelling.

He started marching toward the attacker. The stranger, probably knowing that these were his last moments on Earth, quickly got on his feet and started running down the hall. It took this long for my hazy brain to figure out that the fucker had some sort of black ski mask on his head. Why would he...? My stomach hurt. I started coughing, suppressing the urge to puke up dinner. Chad, on the other hand, started chasing down the wannabe serial rapist. I’d say that it looked epic, but in actuality, he caught up with the guy and took him down in a matter of seconds. Kinda anti-climatic if you ask me. Not that I’m complaining.

I made my way over to where they were. Chad had the guy pinned down to the floor. The guy, reasonably enough, was struggling with all his might. Of course, it didn’t accomplish anything. By the time I was halfway there, Chad seemingly got fed up with the whole thing and starting landing punches across the back of the guy’s head. Chad didn’t seem to want to stop the assault. Finally, I caught up to them.

“Chad, for Pete’s sake, don’t kill the guy. You wouldn’t last two seconds in prison. Plus, we need his pretty face still in one piece so that we can identify him.”

That seemed to be enough to get him to stop. The guy seemed to be struggling a lot less now. A concussion will do that to you. Chad, not wanting to waste anymore time apparently, grabbed at the guy’s mask and ripped it off.

...Of courseit was him. ANYBODY could have told you that. Note the sarcasm in my voice.