Author's note: This is my very first multi-chapter story, so keep that in mind, please as you read. If you don't mind, I'd love to hear any kind of criticism from you, so reviews please. Don't be afraid to be honest. I'm also going through fixing mistakes at the moment and trying to improve on the story.

In case you didn't notice, this is set in season 8, and my story was started before season 8 was over.

Just so you know, Riley's body is slightly different in my story, more like what he would be if he weren't limited by the actor's limitations (not that Argy isn't sexy as all Hell already).

Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi: The Next Generation or any of the characters in this fic. It is the property of its creators, Much Music and Teennick. No profit or money is being made from this fanfiction.

I walked into the gym, my first class of the first day in a new school, Degrassi. I'm the kind of person who enjoys sports, a lot actually. In fact, I was one of the star athletes in my last school. But these were completely new people that I would have to acquaint myself with.

I was the last person to reach the locker rooms, except for one other guy. I glanced in his direction, he glanced at me. He was shirtless. He was tall, definitely a head taller than my 175 centimeters. He had nicely tanned skin, and his short, light brown hair was spiked a little at the front. He had a gorgeous, masculine, slightly scruffy face with a cute nose, a feature I rarely noticed. He even had gorgeous, bright blue eyes. Oh my god, he was so handsome and so buff! I controlled my mouth, forcing my jaw shut so that it wouldn't hang open stupidly. We both looked away, not caring about each other - or at least I pretended not to. Don't stare at him, I thought. You're not supposed to have these feelings. I still genuinely loved women, if my lack of virginity was anything to judge by. Still, I felt my eyes sliding towards him whether I wanted them to or not. Taking an extra-long time changing out, I stole glances at him.

I looked at what was below his short, thick, muscular neck. His arms and pecs looked thick enough that he looked like he could snap me in half if he bear-hugged. God he was built, he had to be easily ninety-two kilos in contrast to my seventy, and I could tell from the definition and even a couple of veins that like myself he had an insanely low body fat. He had a generous amount of body hair that I wanted to run my fingers over. The last thing that I took in as he slipped his gym shirt on was that he had big hands and feet, even for his size. As he walked away, my eyes instinctively slid down to stare at his ass. God he had a great ass! It was big and firm looking and really nicely shaped. I wanted to see dat ass naked so badly, no matter how hard I tried to deny it to myself. It would be so fucking hard to be straight if he were on the football team too.

I finished dressing out and followed him.

I went over to talk to the coach. He had a nametag that said "Mr. Armstrong."

"Coach Armstrong," I said. "I'm a new student here. My name's Jake Springfield."

"Oh right. They told me about you. You can sit next to Riley." He pointed over to Riley. In addition, as luck wouldn't have it, Riley turned out to be the locker room stud. "In here, we have partners that we do warm-ups with. Riley's partner moved to a new school, so you can be his."

"Yes, sir," I said. I walked over to Riley and sat down next to him.

"So I guess you're the little faggot that I'm stuck with," Riley snapped as I sat down. I raised an eyebrow.

"What crawled up your ass?" I snapped back, merely annoyed. He said nothing with a look of surprise on his face. Clearly, he was not expecting a comeback. I turned away from him.

Coach Armstrong had us do a series of stretches, all of which were effortless for me. I was drawing looks in fact. I'm extremely flexible, but not a true contortionist, although that would be cool. The last stretches involved partners working together. One of us laid flat on our back while the other partner pushed our leg back as far as it would go. It was my turn to be stretched, so I lay flat on my back so that Riley could grab my leg and push it back until my foot touched the ground next to my head. I was so close to him that I could smell him; even his scent was attractive and oozed manliness. My body temperature soared as I was inches away from him, his large, calloused hands touching my leg, breathing in his scent. I was just barely able to stop myself getting hard, which would've obviously been disastrous for me.

"So, uh, sorry about being an ass earlier," Riley spoke hesitantly, much to my surprise. He was avoiding my eyes as well. "Things haven't exactly gone well for me lately."

"It's alright. Sorry I bit your head off," I said. I felt part of the tension dissolving away now that he had apologized.

"So, you look like a football player," I continued, trying to brighten the mood. "Are you on the team?" I asked; thanking the universe my voice didn't crack.

"Yeah, actually I am," he said as we switched. "Why, are you gonna try out?"

"Actually I'm already on the team. When the Shep heard that I would be moving here, he sent scouts to check out my playing ability, and apparently he wanted me on the team."

"That's not all that surprising; most of our team is really awful," Riley said. "What position do you play?"

"Running back."

"You kind of look like one. I'm QB one," Riley said without arrogance.

"Then you must be Riley Stavros, our captain, right?" I asked, again thankful my voice didn't crack. How the hell was I going to get through the locker room showers?

"That's me," he said. He paused. "I guessed you must be quick, huh, since you're not all that big?"
"Pretty much," I confirmed. We had to stop talking then, because stretches were finished, and Coach Armstrong called for our attention. He told us that we were going to go out on the track and run. We all filed out, went on the track and started to run. I looked around and saw that Riley was, once again, off on his own.

I thought he may need some company, so I ran up next to him and we started talking about football. At first it was very awkward, but then we opened up more and continued to talk about sports through the remainder of the period, ranging from football to martial arts. We found out that we were actually both champions, Riley in boxing, I in Muay Thai. Our conversation continued, and it moved to school, and I found out that he was a senior. By the end of the period, we found ourselves talking enthusiastically [you can also use "animatedly,"] about the Olympics, until I was reluctant when the coach called us in to the showers and change out. "I wish I could've gone back to my grandparents' country to see Shewfelt take home that Gold medal for Canada," Riley said.

"So you're Greek?" I asked.

"Yep, both sets of my grandparents came over and had my mom and dad here," Riley said, confirming my theory about his last name.

"Stavros! Springfield! Hurry it up!" The coach yelled at us.

We complied and hurried into the locker room. Neither of us was sweating that badly, which made me relieved and disappointed at the same time; if his dick was as big as that bulge in his boxers looked, it would be even harder to stay cool.

We got through changing out. I sat down and Riley moved next to me.

"So what lunch do you have?" Riley asked me, in a much brighter tone than I'd heard him speak before.

"Third," I replied.

"That's what I have. You wanna sit together?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure, that would be great," I said as the bell rang.

"Well see ya man," I said to him.

"See ya," he said as we went to our classes. It didn't hit me until later that I found it unusual that it was so easy for me to talk to him. Ever since my last relationship, I had been withdrawn from people. I also could barely stop myself from picturing his shirtless body and handsome face in my mind over and over. However, I managed to stop myself, and I didn't think too much about either of them.

Author's note: It's boring now, but that's only because I suck at starting anything. Stick with it and it'll get more interesting.