Disclaimer: No, I do not own High School Musical. *insert sad face*
Warning: Two boys engage in sexual intercourse. Is that warning enough?
He looks at you with hungry eyes. You're the only person who ever receives that look. His girlfriend never gets it, not even when his hand is down her pants. Nope, it's just for you.
Maybe it's because he's afraid to be caught with you. Maybe it's because he knows you need it. Maybe it's because he knows that you won't resist, that you will bend to his every whim. But maybe, just maybe, it's because he can't live without you. You keep telling yourself, "Maybe he'll change this time; maybe he'll love me." But you know that he is incapable of love. So you try to stop it.
In the locker room, he watches the last person leave before he attacks you with his lips. The sweat from the game still lingers on him and you. His hands push you roughly against the locker. Your head starts to tell you "no," but your hands are already pulling on his shorts. Your clothes follow his to form a disarrayed pile, and before you know it you are both on the dirty floor. His moans fill your ears, but they are soon drowned out by your own screams.
You're finished, but your guilt ruins the happiness you just felt. He kisses you on the forehead, but you can't even stand to look him in the eyes. You get up and pull on your wrinkled clothes and walk out the door before he can say anything to you.
The next day, at school, you see him arrive with his girlfriend, which means that he spent the night in her bed instead of yours. The jealousy starts to sink in and you look away as he pushes her golden hair back and kisses her neck. You know he's watching you as you walk away, but you cannot look back. You need to let go of him, forget about him. So you avoid him all day, even though it is nearly impossible to ignore the one person that consumes your every thought.
You are proud of your success until he pulls you into an empty classroom and starts to break you down again. He whispers sweet lies into your ear as his hand finds its way into your pants. You gasp as he grips you roughly. After he is done with you, he pulls down his own pants and nudges your head expectantly. You give in before your guilt starts to speak to you. With one final gasp and tug on your curls, he pulls his pants back up and prepares to leave. He pushes you back up against the wall and whispers one more lie into your anxious ear. As he walks out the door all you can hear is, "I love you, Chad," repeated in your mind.
You know that it's another lie. But you can't help thinking, "Maybe, just maybe, he means it this time."