Things are always okay, until you're alone. Yeah, I know. That's like saying things are always okay, until they're not. "What an amazing insight into the human condition!"

So yeah, things are always okay until you're alone. Then the glamour wears off (yeah, I read the Dune series. A million years ago, when I was a stupid kid. A million years ago. When I was a stupid kid. Yeah. Let's go with that). Then, in the light of day, your magical night with the most beautiful guy in the world turns out to have been a booty call with someone who can barely remember your name. Or alternately, as in my case, with someone who feels the need to pretend not to know your name.

But this feeling. It didn't crop up immediately. I should probably be embarrassed by that. Maybe I am. I don't know. But … but (incoherent jabbering and helpless gesturing) … it's Brian … BRIAN. Chestnut hair that glints red and gold in the sun, bronze skin, chiseled chest (which I've taken to licking after practice … that's right, I lick the sweat right off of him … what does that tell you?), hazel eyes that morph depending on his mood and the lighting from brown flecked with gold to sea green…eyes that sear, burning into me … transforming me into a puddle of goo, soft but firm lips, strong hands, and his dick … huge. HUGE. BRIAN. But what really gets me is the softness. He's a football player and a guy, and not just any guy, but a guy who could have anyone. ANYONE. But fuck. FUCK. The way he touches me sometimes, his fingers whispering across my skin. And the look in his eyes, the expression on his face. His eyes get shiny and he seems scared. It's … I … I don't know. I'm fucking this up. I don't have the words. It's like he thinks I'm something to be cherished. Like he can't help himself (the way I feel with him all the time). But there's something else, too. Something more. Like he's lost. And hurting.

Whatever "it" is … it drives me wild. I just want to lick, kiss, and suck on every inch of his body. To consume him. And to be so close that it's like we're one person.

I know how nuts that sounds. But God. In the moment, it's the best feeling in the world.

So yeah. Brian. His glamor lingers long after he's gone. Like he delivers it by proxy through some ranged touch spell (I never ever played D&D. Nope. That's my story and I'm sticking to it).

Right. You want to know more than the who and the how (I'm taking a journalism class as an elective this year). I think I got some why in there. (Wrinkling my nose). I dunno.

Okay…so let's start with the simple parts.

When: Almost a week after the Homecoming rally.

Where: I'm alone in my room lying on my bed staring at the ceiling. Oh and kicking my bed post. Sometimes I kind of wish I was the type of guy who owned balls (not those kind—and contrary to public opinion—thank you Brian's minions—I do have them…PS: get your mind out of the gutter. Actually, don't. These days, that's where mine usually is. But still, I meant like a basketball or something. Right now, I'd settle for a bouncy ball. Throwing something against the wall would probably 'settle my nerves,' as my mom always says).

Who: Me and Brian

What: Going to the Homecoming dance (tonight), but separately. We won't even be able to talk to each other, let alone dance.

Why: Brian failed to realize that the peer pressure for him, Homecoming Prince (my prince and yours), to attend would be staggering. His coach even joined in, if you can believe it. Something about teamwork … the dance's being a celebration of not only this specific version of the Bobcats football team and football in general but also sport itself … and the obligation Brian must fulfill, as team captain, not only to participate in the celebration but also to lead by example or some shit. I don't remember it all. But yeah, he's going. Now just cause he's going doesn't mean I have to … and maybe I shouldn't. But I don't know. What's worse? Going stag and being reminded for the millionth time that I'm not even supposed to be on his radar … that I'm a dork/freak/whatever, whereas Brian is a cool kid, the coolest kid … blah, blah, blah. Or staying home. Alone. Stuffing my face and watching Transformers. For the tenth time. Yeah, I'm totally going.

TBC…