Ghosts Of The Past [BoyxBoy] ✓

3. Fuckboy

His dark brown eyes glide over my body. My eyes glide over his. Without being aware of it, I immediately scan him. He has short, curly, dark brown hair with the sides shaved extra short. His skin is a light brown color and he's almost a head taller than me. He's wearing black Adidas track pants with three white stripes on the sides, white Nikes and a white Adidas shirt. He has a gold chain around his neck and a bunch of gold rings on his fingers. 

He's really got the typical fuckboy look down, huh? Now all he needs is a hat and some AirPods.

"Are you gonna close the door or are you trying to get me caught?" His voice is low and slightly raspy. It's a comforting sound.

To others, I mean. Not to me. Of course not.

I turn around and struggle to close the door again.

"Or, actually you can leave it open a little bit. So they won't smell the smoke later." 

Oh what a hero. Not.

"Too late for that."

He smirks.

I walk further into the shed. I spot the bag of balls next to the mysterious guy. I grab the net and try to pull it up but of course I can't. Fucking hell, this is so embarrassing.

"Do you need help?"

"No. I can do it myself." I try again with all my strength to pull the bag up. I feel a cutting pain in my back. "Ah, fuck!" I drop he net on the floor.

"Are you okay—"

"I'm fine!" He must think I'm a huge pussy for not being able to carry a fucking net of balls. "I have a back injury." I clarify.

He nods slowly.

I have no idea why the fuck I just said that. He doesn't need to know my fucking life story.

He puts the cigarette behind his ear and gets off the stack of mats. "I have an injury too." He lifts up his shirt. There's a big bloody wound on his toned stomach. It looks very painful. How can he even stand?

"But it seems a lot less bad than whatever you have. Come on, let me help you."

He grabs the sack from me and lifts it up with a low grunt. He walks out of the shed.

I've never seen this guy around before.. He must be the new guy everyone's talking about. Why does everyone like him so much? He's so arrogant. He thinks he can do everything better than everyone. Better than me anyway. 

Whatever, I don't need this right now.

I make my way to the door and just as I'm about to walk out, Fuckboy appears in front of me again.

"Where are you going?"

I only now notice he has a light accent. It sounds latin or latino or something like that. Maybe he's Mexican?

"Hello?" He waves his hand in front of my eyes.

"Where you going, stranger? I thought we could hang out."

"No, thanks." I'd rather scratch my eyes out.

"Can I at least get a name?" He steps closer to me.

Has this guy ever heard of personal space?

"No." I brush past him and walk out of the shed, off of the field, into my car and drive off.

***

The next day, somehow I'm at school early. I walk into the math classroom.

"Mr. Sky, you're five minutes late."

Early for me anyway.

I sigh. "You're right. I'm sorry for disturbing the class. I should probably go."

Everyone starts laughing.

I turn around to leave.

"Sit down, Mr. Sky!"

I give the teacher a big fake smile and walk into the class.

To my dismay, the only seat available is next to Fuckboy. I sigh and sit down.

"Alright, people. It seems we have a new guy in class. Why don't you introduce yourself?" The teacher asks.

The guy gets up.

Then somebody interrupts before he can speak. "Yo, teach. We had class with him all day yesterday, he already introduced himself like eight times." One of my fellow classmates —whose name I don't care to remember— says.

"Well, I don't know him. Go on." The teacher nods at him.

"Alright, my name is Aron Santiago."

The girls sigh longingly from the way he rolls the r. I roll my eyes.

"I was born in Spain, lived in Mexico for a long time and then moved here."

"Damn." Shawn says.

"Wow, a very cultured young man, I see." The math teacher nods in approval.

What? Just because he moved countries a few times?!

"So how come your English is so good then—" Mikey gets interrupted.

"Duuuude, you can't say that!" Evan smacks Mikey in the head.

"Nah, it's okay." Aron turns towards Mikey. "I watch a lot of American gay porn," He says with a serious face and not a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Everyone bursts out laughing. Even the teacher almost spits out his coffee.

"The first word I learned was.." He looks at me for a second. "'harder'."

They all laugh louder.

I roll my eyes. How is that funny? And why the fuck did he look at me as he said that?

"Alright, class. I think we've heard enough. You can sit down Aaron." The teacher says, completely butchering his name. He doesn't seem to care. Everyone calls him Aaron.

***

After school, the guys and I are driving home. Shawn decided to treat us all to a drink. He's dropping me off at school to get my car later.

"Yo, guys. I was just making a list of all the things we need for our party this Sunday—"

"Dude, that's so gay!" Jimmy interrupts.

"Fuck off, Jimmy. I was thinking we should invite Aron." Shawn says.

Everyone agrees.

"Uh, how about no?"

Except me.

"I just don't get why everyone loves him so much anyway. He's fucking arrogant. He just got here and already he's acting like he's the king of the school or something." I say as I turn on the radio.

"Mm.. cause that's your title, right?" Shawn gives me a quick look before focusing on the road again.

"Fuck off."

"You're just jealous that he's tougher than you—"

"Okay, that's bullshit. How is he tougher than me?"

Somehow I feel personally attacked.

"He's been here for a day and he already has all the teachers wrapped around his finger, all the girls are fawning over him but he doesn't give a fuck and—"

"How does any of that make him tough?" I can't believe I'm getting so triggered over this shit.

"Well, he's basically ruling the school now." Shawn teasingly punches my arm.

Ow. Fucking asshole. I turn away and stare out the window.

"Are you seriously mad about that?"

"Just leave me alone." I sigh.