Long-Distance Calls

17

As far as I could see it, I had three options:
1. Turn around and run for my life;
2. Close my eyes and run towards him at the cost of my life;
3. Just scream at the top of my lungs.

"Josh." I said with a very low voice, as I realized that neither of the options was going to take place in that predicament.

"What's up?" He never took his eyes away from me. Not for one second, as he talked with his deep voice, way too deep for a kid.

I cleared my throat and secretly gulped. "How did you get them to believe that you're my cousin?"

"They'll believe everything you tell them," he explained, "I could have easily told them I was your father and they wouldn't have blinked." He smirked. "Because they don't care. We're all just a bunch of puppets to them. Faceless little monsters to ruin and humiliate every morning."

"Funny you of all people should say this," I managed to say overcoming the fear he imposed on me, "Andrew and you did nothing but ruin and humiliate me since the first moment I stepped inside this school."

"Yeah, about that," he stepped closer to me, as I stood almost paralyzed in the same spot. I could now smell his cologne. His aphrodisiac cologne. "I know I took it too far with you, and I sincerely say that I'm sorry."

I didn't say a word for a moment. I was too shocked by the fact that this bad dude, the same one who was kicking me down the day before, was actually apologizing to me. And he was looking at me with different eyes. Not his usual judgmental/superior eyes, but... likable eyes.

"I wasn't expecting that," I admitted after a while, "I was pretty sure you were here to end what you started."

"I am," he said, "I am ending what I started. I'm ending it by apologizing to you."

"Okay," I immediately said. Had he told me that with his usual eyes, I would have held a grudge and moaned about what he did to me, and possibly even cried about it. But those different, trustworthy eyes just couldn't let me do that. "I just want to know... why did you do it in the first place? Why pick on me? What have I ever done to you? You didn't even know me-- You don't even know me."

He sighed. "You wouldn't understand if I told you."

He wasn't looking into my eyes anymore. He was looking down, at the concrete floor. "Tell me," I said, "I'll try."

"Okay," he stepped even closer. We were about ten inches away from each other, standing up in the middle of the porch, like two MMA fighters the night before their match. "You see, Peter, the fact is, and you'll probably think I'm foolish, that when I first saw you I thought you were so beautiful. Too beautiful," he said and I felt a weird sensation in my stomach, "and I just couldn't stand it. You were like a lightning striking me right in the heart, Peter. I wanted to have you so bad, but I couldn't."

When he stopped talking, I wished he wouldn't have. I was left there, staring into his weirdly comfortable black eyes, with that weird feeling in my guts and the mess inside my head, not allowing me to put two solid words together. "Wha-- Why-- Wha--" I stammered, as my breath grew harder. I needed time. I needed a remote that would stop everything around me and allow me to be alone with myself and collect my thoughts. I needed time to think. Or better yet, to try not to think.

"I can't." He interrupted my stammering, "I can never. Mine's a disease. I have to cure this despicable state of mine, I have to resist temptation and fight every dumb passion I have."

"Are you talking about the fact that you're... er... gay?" I asked both concerned and annoyed by his ideas.

"Don't say it!" He exclaimed, raising his hand in front of me, "I'm not what you say I am. I'm just confused... and sick. I can never. And I will never. That's why I attacked you." He sighed. "You were the object of my desire, and I had to fight my desire. And if my desire is you, it means I have to fight you."

"You know what's sick?" I was shocked by how deep and confident my voice came out to be. "These ideas you have about this all thing. This dumb mentality that's making you say all this stuff, that's what's sick. There's nothing wrong with being gay. Nothing at all. If in the eyes of a guy who likes blondes there's nothing wrong with a guy who likes brunettes, then why should there be something wrong with a guy who likes guys? It's not a disease. I don't know who the hell told you that, but it's really not. It's what you like. It's who you are. And... it's beautiful."

His eyes lit up for a moment. His mouth dared a little smile. "Are you... like this... too?" he asked and that question made me uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable. I needed the time-stopping remote once again. I didn't like that question. Not even when I asked it to myself. And now Josh Starkey, of all people, was asking me and expecting a quick answer.

"I..." I intentionally prolonged what I was saying to try to clear the mess in my head, "I don't really know. I'm not sure. I was born with the ideology of boy likes girl. Christian family. But sometimes I asked myself if girls are what I really like," I played an imaginary piano with my hands on my ribcage, over the bruises caused by the very man I was exposing myself to in that moment, "And from the feeling I've got in my stomach right now, I can tell that might not be the case."

"Oh, Peter..." he stepped even closer. His face so near to mine, I felt it blushing. His cologne inebriating all of my senses. That weird feeling in my guts getting stronger and stronger. Is that the butterflies everyone talked about? "Oh, dear Charming Peter... what am I going to do with you?"

His voice felt so intimate. There was no trace of his deep, frightening, superior voice. All that was left was a comfortable, loving voice. When my eyes met his mouth, the feeling in my guts reached my throat. I could now feel it in every part of my body, as I leaned closer to him.

All of the sudden, though, I heard a weird sound coming from behind.

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Aaaaaand, here we go with the cliffhanger again.

I know what you're thinking. "You're a $#&%!! Son of a &$@%€!!!!"

But I promise. The next chapter will be EXPLOSIVE! So hold your breath! No, scratch that. Don't hold your breath. That's a whole week. That wouldn't end well.

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Don't forget to VOTE and COMMENT, I'll see you next week!

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