Super Crush (BxB)

Post Pool Party Peek

 I can't keep my eyes off Clay as he sits opposite me on a locker room bench. While he dries his hair with a towel he snagged from the coach's office, I feverishly take in all of the bare parts of his body and dream about the still-covered bits. I am sloppy in my spying though, for I find Clay looking at me from beneath the towel mid-ruffling. My face catches fire as I look away because I know I've been caught creeping.

The pool was filled with horseplay and possibly the most tension I have ever felt in my life. Yes, we were just doing dumb guy stuff–dunking each other, wrestling, poking and pinching, biggest splash contest–but there were some long looks, skin on skin, and "accidental" touchings that made it clear we were more than just two buds illegally swimming in our high school pool. During one particularly engaging dunk episode, Clay bear hugged me from the back and I wiggled against his mostly bare body, desperately trying to break free. Needless to say, I had to swim a chill-out-lap to calm all parts of me down once he let me go.

"I am corrupting you, Brass," he says, regaining my line of vision.

"I'm not as straight-edge as you think, there Mr. Piedra," I reply.

He stands, his still-damp boxer briefs clinging to him. He closes the gap between us. I look up at him from my spot on the wooden bench. He is backlit by the fluorescents overhead. There is no doubt the extended eye lock, the closeness, and the half smile are all flirting. Feels good for someone to be interested.

"Why don't we–" he starts but is cut off by his phone's buzz. He ignores it at first but it doesn't stop.

"Hold that thought." Clay turns from me and pics up his mobile.

Damn. What was he going to say? I would do anything he asked right at this moment.

His conversation is quick and annoyed. He may not know that I have taken three years of Spanish, but I struggled to keep up with the speed of the discussion. Something about being needed immediately.

He hangs up and turns back to me.

"I know," I say. "You have to go."

He frowns and nods slowly.

"My uncle says his dinner host called in sick. I feel bad. I am really–"

I put my hands up to stop him. "Nope. I had a great day. I am incredibly grateful for the company. So, go. Help your uncle. We can catch up another time."

He rolls his eyes and sighs. "You mean I have to hang out with you again?"

Clay slides a grin and wink in there which nearly makes me pass out. Then, the real aneurysm happens. He turns to his pile of clothes and drops his drawers to his ankles. Back to me, buck-ass naked, Clay pulls his clothes on just as causally as he would if we were in the locker room. Oh, right, well we are, but you know what I mean. I have to grip the edge of the bench so I don't topple over.

"Alright, Brass," he turns to find me as stony as a Medusa victim.

He lets out a nasal snort.

"Be sure to go out the art room door," he reaches down and gives my cheek three playful smacks. "I'll give you your space to take care of that."

I follow his eyes to the tent I have popped up in my underwear.

Universe, please drop a meteorite on me right this second.

"I–" Words are hard for me. No pun intended.

"Will see me later. Yes. You will." With a squeeze of my shoulder, Clay is gone.

I look down at my crotch. "Really, dude?!"