Wicked Summer Games. BxB (Complete)

4. Day one.

Monday:

My eyes are heavy even as I force them to open. After three unsuccessful attempts, I almost give up. I want to stay in bed a little longer, but the sound of chirping birds outside annoys me more than anything.

It's always better to wake up to honking cars than chirping birds, I'm not in a fucking romantic movie for god's sake. There's just something about the mornings in a busy town. You can barely oversleep—every minute you waste on sleeping—someone like Jack Morty is out there scribbling something on the noticeboard about new gossip every fucking day.

So, the faster you get to school, the sooner you can check if you're or were involved in any scandals.

I hate Jack Morty. He is so tall with auburn curls, he is supposed to be in the musical or something, but he has made it his responsibility to spread gossip about lame kids like me.

After Marie Shane broke up with me, the news was ubiquitous; on social media, on our school page, and I was glad we were not in school because I would have been featured on "What's hot!"

But fuck him and the rest of his guys.

With another deep sigh, I open my eyes and reach under my pillow for my phone and inhaler. It's a routine thing.

I suck in another breath when I feel them there. They're like a part of my body. I'd lose myself if any of them went missing.

Too dramatic?

Sorry.

I grab my phone and turn on my data, the network is poor, and so is Aunt Nima's Wi-Fi. The Jon of staying here is I don't have to buy anything because she is sweet enough to share her Wi-Fi password with me.

One of the little things I like about this place.

I try to load my Instagram news feed, but the network is too slow, so I give up. I open my notepad instead, and without much delay, I start typing my to-do list for today;

1. Get out of bed.

2. Brush my teeth.

3. Take a shower.

4. Go down for breakfast. (Eat if it's anything besides bread)

I hate bread.

5. Don't forget to breathe.

Etc…

I smirk. I am done with the hardest task of the day; planning my day. I'm not into a habit of just waking up without a plan like a headless chicken, I need to know what I will be doing at this hour and what I won't be doing at that hour.

I get out of bed and mentally cancel it on the list. Slipping into the fluffy blue house slippers Aunt Nima gave me, I remember that I haven't unpacked yet.

With a low grunt, I grab my black backpack and open the zipper gently. It has broken more than once, but I refuse to get a new bag. This one holds dear memories.

As soon as it opens, my favorite shirt greets me and I can't help but smile. I gently push it aside and hunt for my toothbrush, which I find in no time. I peep further for the toothpaste, but I can't find it. Carefully, I unload the contents of the bag to see if it is down there somewhere, but there's nothing.

How did I forget to pack my toothpaste?

This is code red.

Maybe I'll ask mom to bring it, or even ask Aunt Nima to give me some cash, so I can buy another one.

I strongly believe in not sharing toothpaste, it's somewhat gross. But currently, I am short of options, so I decide to borrow Jamie's just for this morning.

I will hit the store later.

I drag my tired legs out of my room and make it to Jamie's just next to mine. I don't even bother to knock—he's probably still sleeping.

That boy is not an early riser.

Not what I expected, though, his bed is empty and unmade. But I shrug it off, he's most likely in the kitchen eating something. We know him for that.

With heavy eyelids, threatening to shut right away, I make it to the bathroom.

The moment I open the door, all the sleep vanishes from my eyes at the sight before me. And I can't help but gape.

There are hairy legs and hairy, muscular thighs. As I move up to inspect the specimen in front of me, my eyes meet a tight butt in black kelvin Klein boxer briefs.

I throw a hand to my mouth, but I don't look away or even dare to turn around.

What the hell am I doing?

A tan skin covers a very broad back, and as he moves I can see the muscles moving as well. I am short of air. I can't breathe.

My heart jolts in my chest, reminding me exactly that I came out—to myself a few months ago—as gay. No one knows this yet, and I don't intend on telling anyone.

But I am quite mesmerized right now.

"Smarty-pants?" Axel turns to look at me, and I am not sure why I am even surprised—as though I expected someone else. I could never be hypnotized by Jamie's body, gross.

"Hi." I can barely recognize my voice as I inspected his dark eyes, and the trail of toothpaste foam running down the corner of his mouth.

It's equally gross, but I can't stop staring.

It's so messed up in this bathroom.

##

😹.
Leave those comments. And vote. And have fun.