Peaches 'N Cream

14. Sweetheart

JOSEPH MADE SURE HE WAS EARLY TO ENGLISH TODAY BECAUSE JERICHO WAS USUALLY ONE OF THE FIRST STUDENTS IN THE CLASSROOM.

Ms. Holbert looked like she was about to rip the quarterback's head off until the brown-haired boy walked in. He said good afternoon to her all kind-like, grinned like the damned saint he is, and she returned a smile almost immediately.

Joseph was left with a billion butterflies, all having a UFC match in his gut at the same time. He would be having a UFC match with himself in a few seconds here if he couldn't get his shit together and chill out.

How could he, though? He just got it though his thick skull that he was in love with the guy after all. Soft fingers placed a textbook on the desk next to his, and Jericho pulled a long coil of hair behind his ear.

He sat down after putting his bag on the floor and Joseph watched him retrieve a notebook and binder from it. Simple actions that made his heart squeeze in his chest because he was so damn pretty and Joseph was obsessed with him.

All the while staring, starting at the crown of curls on his head, down to his eyes, and then his lips until he gave him his full, undivided attention. He could look at him all day long.

"Yes, Joey?"

The blond put his elbow on the table and rested his cheek on his fist. Everyone, aside from Jericho, always had one eye on Joseph and the other on everything else.

What he did during class, the brand on the clothes that he wore, who he does and doesn't hang out with, knew it all. He's a high school student for god-sake, not a fucking celebrity or a public figure.

They expected him to be at school every day, looked forward to the smile that never seemed to leave his face; it wasn't allowed to, so it hid things. If you weren't really looking at him, you couldn't see the faded scars on his skin.

You'd miss the wild flash in his eyes that he had to suppress, and you certainly couldn't see the eye bags and the stress lines on his forehead.

Joseph works a lot harder than most people would assume. He plays two school sports; football in the fall and spring, he does track and field.

Whenever practice finishes, he goes home every day, aside from Sundays and game days, and works on the farm alongside his father's employees until sundown.

Tending to the livestock, grooming and feeding the horses, cleaning up the waste. He still has to shower, cook, finish his homework, and prepare for bed. It's been an everyday thing since he was old enough to walk, and it'll be a forever thing when he takes over the farm, which he's expected to do the following year after he finishes high-school and summer ends.

Joseph also doesn't have much free time, and when he does, he's obligated to spend it with his so-called friends. He couldn't be anything less than perfect around them. They couldn't see him because Joseph only ever showed them what he wanted them to see.

But with Jericho, it was different; he could be open because, with him, he wasn't the quarterback of Alamance or his father's son. He was just Joseph, and to just be, to exist without labels and biased judgment was a wonderful feeling.

The shorter boy's been his #1 supporter and home away from home ever since he was a scrawny freshman on the junior varsity football team. He's not letting this one go.

"Where's my good afternoon smile?"

The taller boy's heart almost tore straight through his ribcage, and blood rushed to his face, when Jericho gave him one. He was expecting a sarcastic remark or some kind of deflection, but he was pleasantly surprised when he received what he asked for. He'd have to try asking nicely more often.