Topping the Jock

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN - REMY'S DARLING P.O.V 

Name: Remy 

Subject: Feelings and stuff 

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Page No.: 395   

Date: Monday, October 3rd, 2011  

Dear Diary,  You will not believe what just happened, Diary. This was probably just half an hour ago, too just when I got home after track try-outs. When I got home, I wandered into my room to find an ash-blond-haired boy splayed out across my bed, his arms behind his head and his legs crossed like he didn't have a care in the world. He didn't bother moving, as I entered.

"Shit!" I screamed, jumping back and landing against the wall, holding my hand to my heart in fright. "You almost gave me a heart-attack, for fuck sake!"

He chuckled, twisting his position so that his legs were crossed under him. He passed me a twinkling smile, one that I hadn't expected to see on the face of a bully. "Hi fag," he greeted me all-too-kindly. 

I squinted my eyes at him, and decided that two can play that game, and kitty can scratch.

"Baby, if you wanted sex, you could have just asked," I teased him, crawling up to him on my bed in a seductive manner. Well, as seductive as an early teen boy could be. "Get ready, you're bottoming this time, okay? My arse still hurts from last time."

"Stop it," he bit, his voice laced with venom. 

I continued anyway, leaning into his ear. "I'll be gentle, plucking your bum-cherry, I promise," I whispered, watching him shiver as my breath passed over his neck. And with my accent, I'd usually have them ensnared by now.

"I know you're not queer, you fag," he said slowly, not looking at me, looking everywhere in the room except at me.

I raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

He laughed. "You don't have the face, you don't act like a puffy little cunt, you're not camp, or girlie, you're not gay," he said simply. "I mean, if you were, it'd be a lot more obvious, you'd have a squeaky voice and shit."

"Are you being serious?" I scoffed. "Just stop talking, unless it's to tell my why the fuck you're in my bedroom, on my bed? What do you want, kid? And how did you get in here?"

"Oh, I climbed through the window, I hope that's cool. Don't leave it open next time," he advised me, giving me a smug grin that sprinkled dimples over his face. He didn't smile genuinely often, I could tell that about him, and yet right then and there, sitting on my bed with him, even I could tell that his smile was genuine and real, even if I had no clue what it meant.

"How do you even know where I live?" I asked quietly, staring at him, admiring his face.

Guys can do that, right? Admire another guy's face without being a puff. And it won't mean anything, right? I mean, he was good-looking, so what? He had a face right out a magazine. His lips were a light pink, wet and thin. I shivered as he spoke.

"I followed you home," he admitted, shrugging, like stalking someone home was the most normal thing in the entire world.

"Fabulous," I drawled, collapsing back down onto my bed with my legs dangling over the edge.

"Gay."

"Get out," I ordered.

"Whatever."