Current Music:
CSNY, Rush,Disturbed,TP
Dylan
"He was this...older guy... I mean...REALLY older like...like my dad, but he didn't act like it.
He came off more like a young guy, he just had so much energy!
Bartolome, he told us, all the guys that came to his place to hang-out and party, to just call him Bart.
Yeah.
I mean, could he have screamed 'PLAYER' any louder!?
Now I know, but then...
God, I was so stupid!"
"Don't say that!" Marco whispered intensely, angry at this guy already for what he'd put Dylan through; he could tell where this was headed.
"You were a kid, he was a grown man, not, not a man, just some 'legally-adult' creep." he continued, gripping Dylan's wrist above the clenched fist that was locked onto one of the posts of their brass bed.
Marco knew he(Dylan) needed to hold on to something...unbreakable right now.
He also knew this was headed somewhere even more complicated than some lecherous creep hitting on a young teen.
Italy isn't all that far from Spain.
Dark hair, and eyes...'permanently tanned'.
Even the languages...so similar.
None of his other ex's were even close to that.
Just...
Me.
Christ! no wonder Dylan had...a few ...well issues.
He had this really long complicated name, so none of us minded.
Paige-and my mom were really impressed with just his name, said that a really long name like that is a sign that the person is a member of the aristocracy.
Translated, my mom said a name like that tells all sorts of things about a persons family history.
All I cared about was how much he knew about Hockey!
And he knew a whole lot, he kept up with me and my dad, and even knew more things about world hockey than I did, sure I was impressed and interested in seeing some of the videos he said he had.
And...yeah, even if he did seem straight...
I could still...
Want...