Scott Mason: Gay Superhero (boyxboy)

Chapter 5

I slipped into my gym clothes in the boys' locker room, glad that we were having the class inside today.
Oh, sweet glorious warm air! Compared to the outside, this was wonderful! The outside was just frigid and sharp and full of fog today. This air though, it was air that I wanted.
Adam sauntered in and I avoided my eyes. Just as usual. He stood next to me as he got dressed into his gym clothes, stripping down to his boxers just as all the other people were doing in the locker room.
I have to say, I did sneak a peek or two at him, taking in long, muscled, legs and a strong torso, with abs and pecs and the likes of that. Was it wrong to do that? Was I a pervert?
I pushed my backpack and regular clothes into the gym locker in front of me, the plastic of the backpack clasps clanging loudly with the rest of the chatter. As I walked out, Adam caught up with me and walked alongside.
"When do you want to work on the science project?" he asked. I paced over to the indoor bleachers, climbing up a few seats before sitting down. He plopped down beside me, the metal creaking under the weight of pure muscle. Hot, bulging, sexy butt muscle.
"I really don't know when." I said automatically when he snapped his fingers in front of my face. He smirked, and I folded my arms defiantly.
"How about after school?" he asked, turning to face me. I glanced slightly down at his face, his black eyes burning relentlessly into me. I looked away.
"That sounds good." I strangled out, watching gratefully as Mr. Callahan shouted across at the people who were out of the locker rooms. We were playing basketball today. I moaned in depressing agony, raking my nails across my arms softly. I wasn't good at basketball.
Heat pulsed off of Adam, I could feel it on my skin on the right. I got up when everybody else did, all hopping off the bleachers to get to the basketballs as quick as possible. I jumped down all the bleachers, got a basketball and dribbled it over to the farthest hoop. I shot a few hoops badly, all but one bouncing off the rim. The only one that didn't bounce off got wedged between the backboard and the hoop.
Like I said. I wasn't good at basketball.
I frowned. There were times in life, like this one, that you needed someone else to help you. Especially when you didn't have an extra ball to throw at the other one. As I thought this, a basketball whizzed through the air and slammed into my wedged one, knocking it lose.
"Watch where you throw your ball, Mason!" Coach Callahan yelled across the gym.

|~~~~~~~~~~~~|

"So the 'Photosynthetic Rate of the Leaves of the Garden Radish' is four Adenine Tri-phosphates a minute?" I asked, confused. I guess you are too, unless you take AP Biology and understand it. I sure didn't understand it. Was it possible to quantify the amount of molecules on average the chloroplasts produced?
I raked my hand through my hair, a nervous tic of mine, making it poke up awkwardly in some places. Adam nodded slightly, looking down at the packet that was in his hands. "Yeah," he paused, "If you did the math correctly."
He leaned back in my desk chair, and I glanced at him from beneath my eyelashes from on my bed.
Adam. In my room. What type of lucky strike did I hit to have him this close? It was almost unreal: the juxtaposition of him against the drab backdrop of my normal life.
He was smarter than he let on; that question that I just did was the first question out of twenty that I had answered throughout the night. He scribbled the answer down, shutting the packet in his hand with a soft clap.
"The first twenty questions of the first page done." He said, smiling like we accomplished something. "Now only fifteen more pages to go!"
I groaned slightly. "Do you want to call it a day?" I asked, flopping foreword from my Indian-style sitting to mushing my face into the bedspread.
"But its only six!" He exclaimed. "Don't you want to do more?"
"No." I said with dead flatness. "Don't you do something else besides schoolwork and listen to all of your music?" I questioned, rolling over onto my back and staring at the ceiling, motioning to his phone on the desk.
He frowned. "Not really." I heard the chair creak as he reached foreword to grab the music device. "I have other things to occupy my time."
"Like what?" I asked, accusation making my voice heavy.
"Stuff," He said neutrally.
"What stuff?"
"Super-cool stuff that you wouldn't understand." He joked, a smile crossing his face.