The Caged Bird Longs To Be Free

Chapter 2

You see him for the first time in the park.

Exams have finished. School is over.

You are just waiting for your results to come back to head off to university.

And you friends have decided to take advantage of the sun and go to a nearby park for food and rays.

There are four of you that day; Joey, Alex, Mary and yourself.

But none of these friends will make an impact on you like him.

Mary lays out a blanket and Joey unpacks the food from his mum's fridge.

You're only one of two groups in the park, the other being a group of lads throwing a rugby ball around.

Your blissful and uneventful summer break is broken by said ball sailing through the air and crashing into a box of grapes.

"Over here, mate!" you hear a shout from the players.

And that is when you see him, silhouetted against the baking sun.

He is shirtless, with a strong set of muscles on his chest and arms. He is not buff, but nice and toned.

Light golden waves float down from his hair, resting just above his bright green eyes.

There are a row of freckles upon his nose and cheeks, eking out their last moments as he transitions into adulthood.

You don't register it at the time, but there is something about him that makes you want to press yourself up against his form and let him hold you in his arms.

He is the personification of warmth and comfort, and that is what's led you to him.

Being an ex-rugby player, you pick up the ball and drop kick it right into his hands with ease.

He smiles as he catches and cradles the ball to his chest. He looks you in the eye across the park, making your chest flutter.

"Nice shot," he calls out, before turning back to his friends. You sit back down with yours and finish your lunch.

That smile—pearly whites against a sandy exterior—could make anyone weak in the knees.

You keep sneaking glances at him as the game progresses, and he does the same with you.

It could be a non-verbal mating ritual, checking out whether the other is a good to bond with. And then there are those moments where you catch each other's eyes and both look away sheepishly.

As the sun starts to dip and the players put their shirts back on, he heads over to the blanket.

"Nice kick mate," he says. "Do you play rugby?"

You say you used to. He smiles. Another chest thump. "Well, you're still good enough to play a kicker role. What's your name?"

You tell him, and he responds, "I'm David, nice to meet you."

He holds out his hand, and you grasp it gently.

"Do you want to sit down with us?" Joey asks.

"Sure," David says, sitting down beside you.

Despite being a total stranger, you find he is easy to talk to.

That might be because he goes to a different school. He has no preconceived notion of who you are.

He laughs at your jokes, get's Alex's pronouns right on the first go, and stays with you for a few hours.

David even stays behind to help the group pack away the food and blanket back into Joey's backpack.

You start to split, and he asks which way you are going.

"I live on North Parade."

"Oh sweet, I'm just a few doors down at South March. I'll walk with you."

As David sets off, Joey winks at you and whispers, "I think he likes you."

You dismiss Joey as he turns around towards his house, but you feel something clawing in your chest when you catch up to David, wanting desperately to break out.

It is like nothing you've ever experienced before.

As the sun starts to set you walk down the deserted streets together, throwing the rugby ball between the two of you.

You talk about school and what universities you're both looking at.

You're still undecided. You like to write, so an English degree was what everyone was pushing you to do. But you only liked reading for pleasure, not any of that studying nonsense.

David is Art History. Turns out he isn't just a pretty face. You're surprised he isn't going to do sports, but you could see his passion when talking about painting. "You can come over sometime and see them if you want, I do a mixture of stuff."

And there you go. A chance to visit him whenever you want.

As you continue to walk, getting closer and closer, the lampposts start to flicker into existence.

And then before you know it, you are standing outside your house.

"Well, I guess this is it," David says, swaying back and forth.

"Yeah, it is," you say.

Silence descends between you.

The type of silence that can only be broken by a combining of bodies.

First kisses are odd.

This isn't your first kiss (if you had had the nerve to kiss him), heavens no.

You've kissed girls before. None with much appreciation or skill.

Just the awkward fumbles at a high school dance where anything more than a quick peck in between drinking cans of soda will get your promptly thrown in the time-out section while the chaperone calls your parents to come pick you up.

While you don't have much experience, you do love that sensation just before the act.

When you are staring into the other person's eyes, and you are trying to contain all your urges to just leap forward and push your lips on his.

That never really goes away.

But you can't. You haven't accepted that part of yourself yet. Not to mention not knowing what he thinks of the situation.

You just put your hand forward, and after a few seconds of looking at it, David slowly shakes your hand.

But not to be outdone by your cowardice, you ask, "What is your number?"

You pull out your phone and he recites his number. You ping a text over so he has yours and then turn, waving him goodbye.