The Recital of Terrance Reed

Prologue

At first, I thought I was a cis-gendered straight male, and damn, I was wrong. I was not straight. I was downright, wholeheartedly a gay man.

It just happened. I grew up wondering why I never had girl crushes like the other guys. It was just always me pondering on whom I liked. I couldn't tell from left or right if I even fit in the romance department. It felt like a shoestring detached from a worn-out shoe.

It was only when I turned seventeen that I met him. It was the first day of English class in grade 12, and he walked in.

I had never felt my heart flutter as it did when I saw his evergreen eyes. How his soft tanned skin probably felt like clouds. The way his puffy lips quivered whenever he was focusing. I liked the way his body looked tiny and tight. I adored how I was taller than him and how he had to look up at most people. I loved the way his dirty blonde hair looked silky and well-kept. I wanted to be close to him daily because he smelt like wet grass in the midsummer rain shower. It was like ecstasy, if I was honest. It was lavishing.

One time, when he talked to the teacher, something happened to me that made me feel something else. It was his laugh... his damn laugh. I could never phantom the idea that his laughter could be so hot. It was unreal. I liked that he showed his teeth when he laughed. It was electric.

I was gushing over this boy in English by the end of the first week. It was my gay awakening. Throughout the first week, I tried to figure out his name and the type of person he was, which I got. However, the only problem I had was...

I was Terrance Reed. And he was Kyle Kingfield. I was a Senior wallflower who only focused on studying and playing by the rules. From what I gathered and whom he hung out with. He was free-spirited and was considered the "bad boy" of our grade. And the only real problem with that. And being me, nobody liked talking to me. Of course, I didn't mind being the quiet kid. But some days, I wished I had friends I could speak with, even a little. But even then, I was Terrance Reed-the senior wallflower of my grade.

Whenever I looked in the mirror, I could not even know if Kyle could ever like a boy like me. I had thick black glasses that made my eyes bigger, the monstrosity of my caterpillar black eyebrows, and my big droopy lips. I also had big ears that my family called "Monkey ears." I wouldn't say I liked the name, but I came to see them as they say. My brown hair was not silky and well-kept. It was curly and frizzy. The only thing I liked about myself was my skin. It was like caramel, the chewy kind, not the hard candy. It was soft like Kyle's. But yet, I believe that Kyle would never find me as attractive as the models on billboards or porn sites.

I thought he was new to the school, but apparently, he was always around, but he had some glow-up over the summer. I started McCloud Ivory High School last year in the middle of the second term. So, this is the first time I have seen him once since I was too busy trying to get over the new kid vibe, so I got the nickname, Wallflower Terrance. Because I was a newt to the walls, always trailing against the walls from class to class. I must've bumped into him multiple times without evening knowing.

By the end of the month, I knew that this crush had grown and became intense. I was always eyeing him in the hallways, trying to be settled. I also tried to gather the courage to talk to him, but my social anxiety would always spike once the opportunity popped up. I would be shaking and have hives grow over my body. So speaking to him was me trying to dip my feet in boiling water, So I sadly didn't.

But when I had a chance, I would stare from afar and wonder why a boy like me ever got a chance to speak to him. He had girls all over him, and he always had girlfriends. So my options with him were zero. But it was still nice to have some eye candy.

One day, around October, I searched through the yearbook to know what he looked like last year. I was curious because the girls, Charlotte and Maddie, would always talk about him and say he was much uglier the previous year. So I searched for his picture from last year's library yearbooks. When I found it, it was not hard because he was noticeable from everyone in the book. I snickered when I saw how he looked from last year. He did have a massive glow-up. He had a thick pullover sweater, and his hair was long, shaggy and unkempt. His skin was covered with acne and blemishes. Of course, I did not care that he looked like that, but I was looking at a different person.

I wish I had a glow-up like that, I thought.

As the days passed, I waited for the perfect time to talk to him. I could not bring myself to speak to him, even just a little hello. Like this invisible barrier, my social skills protected me from talking to him. I hated that my mouth would unhinge when I had a chance, but my voice felt too dry to say anything.

I may get the chance to talk to him someday.