Brad & Nick

Chapter One: the blonde hottie with the body

I have a crush or I guess a little bit more than a crush. His name was Dylan Andrews. It had actually kind of developed into an unhealthy obsession with him. I can admit it. I'm not sure what was it about Dylan that got me going, but he had me wrapped around his fingers. Maybe it was those baby blue eyes of his that had specks of gray in it or those soft full pink lips of his. No. His hair – His hair that even when he didn't brush it, still seemed to be perfect in every way. Fuck. He had me acting like such a chick, and I couldn't stand it. He was an absolute knockout in that every time I saw him, I had to remind myself to breath so I wouldn't pass out. Blame my male teenage hormones, but he was all I could think about. I had woken up from several dreams, all hot and bothered thanks to him.

I would have let this crush go had Dylan been utterly and completely straight. But he wasn't. He was a complete and total flamer, and I wanted him bad. So freaking bad. But he was completely and totally untouchable. It wasn't because I was in the closet or because I was scared to go up to. It was because Dylan Andrews was off-limits. Maybe that was a part of the reason why I wanted him so badly.

Everything is much more appealing when you can't have it.

"Nick," Brad teased patting the passenger seat of his pick-up. "Hop on in, you sexy devil. Where's my kiss?"

"Fuck off," I retorted giving him the finger as I smoothed my shirt down. Brad cocked a grin at me, as he ran his eyes across me as if I was some sort of t-bone steak.

"You dressed up," he laughed. "Woah. Damn. You clean up nice. I'd so screw you."

I punched him in the arm. "You wish I'd give you the time of day. You'd enjoy my ten inches very much."

Brad scoffed letting out a loud laugh. "Ten inches. Dude, we've showered together. You wish. And who says I'd let you top me, Nick? You have bottom written all of your face or should I say your ass."

This is Brad, my best friend. My wingman. My teammate. My rock. He and I have been friends since we were in diapers. Our parents were best friends. We've basically done everything together. We learned to walk together. We learned to ride bikes together. We even learned to kiss together.

Yes, Brad and I in our middle school confusion made out a lot and watched a lot of porn. We both figured out we were into dudes during that time. We never dated though. Brad and I as a couple just wouldn't work. Not that Brad wasn't attractive, because let's be honest, he was  hot. He had that rugged look going on, beard, long dirty blonde hair you'd often catch in man bun, and he was athletic. He was on the football team. I used to be, but I quit, I couldn't handle it cause I'm too much of a wimp as Brad says so I ended up playing soccer.

But Brad was Brad. We loved each other, but not in that way.

"It's always the big ones who like to be dominated," I winked as Brad gripped the steering wheel, rolling his eyes at me.

"Jeez man! Stop turning me on," Brad smirked.

I sucked my teeth. "When are you not turned on?"

"When I'm looking at your face," Brad retorted sarcastically as we pulled into Chip's driveway. Chip was one of the guy's on Brad's team, and also one of his knucklehead friends. He was throwing some rager as he calls it, and Brad had an obligation to attend being that he's on the football team. I couldn't stand any of the guys on the team. They were all purebred assholes. I think the only reason Brad got along with them was because he was technically bisexual. So he could do the whole macho damn that girl's got a nice rack on command. I, on the other hand, couldn't.

I was too much of a flaming homo.

"You owe me for this Brad," I muttered as soon as I saw someone puking on the front lawn. I hated coming to these things, but Brad never liked going alone. I was his backup in case things got a little too crazy. Someone needed to make sure Brad didn't get too drunk. The football guys sure knew how to bring out the inner ass in Brad.