Predictable
Maybe it was predictable. Me guy, her girl. Despite the constant ribbing from the football losers I know that the general perception in school is that we get some. That we get a lot. That the girls are our playthings, or would that be another way around.?
Every now and then I hear rumours, stories, about our conquests. About the threesome Aaron had with Courtney and Whitney, about Big Red's bitches and Darcy's boy toys. I overhear snippets of conversation between classes, comments made in the locker room and occasional insult aimed at my sexuality.
They've paired me with Whitney, Darcy and Carver on occasion. Big Red broke me in for the team and Torrance used me to get captain. Courtney regularly abuses me for sexual favors and I stole Casey's virginity (which is, as far as I know still in existence) from her. But they're never linked me with Missy.
No one's ever linked me with Missy.
They're linked Missy with Torrance and even with Les (which is just crazy coz that boy is about as straight as a circle), but never with me.
So I'm thinking about this. And I'm thinking about the way her skin felt under my fingertips and the way she shook so gently at my touch. And thinking about the look in her eyes and line of her lips.
I'm thinking about all of this. At the worst possible time.
"What you thinking?"
Courtney snuggles up against me with the popcorn. She's got her hair tied up, a few tendrils curling against the nape of her neck. My arms aren't around her, they're stretched along the back of the coach and for the first time ever I'm wondering if I shouldn't be somewhere else entirely.
"Jan?" She leans in, loose strands of her hair tickle my skin as she moves. "You in there?" She grins as she closes in, a flirtatious look in her eyes.
But it's always been like this. We flirt and joke and make out and that's it. That's all it's ever been. We tease and taunt and touch. We kiss and caress and what. I can't remember if we ever talked.
She's kissing my neck, teasing the skin with her lips. And I'm just sitting here. I want her. I always want her. And physically she's pretty much perfect. Physically I can feel myself responding to her touch. But mentally, mentally I'm not even here.
I'm in a locker room, the girl's locker room. And this brunette with an attitude is completely unable to help herself out of this bind she's in. Helpless for the first time since I met her. And ever so gently I'm touching her skin.
Courtney's licking my neck and unbuttoning her shirt. She doesn't even notice I'm not here. The t-shirt I was wearing has already been thrown across the floor sometime when I wasn't paying attention, and she's taking full advantage of that.
I wonder when she's gonna notice I'm not here.
I wonder if she'll notice I'm not here.
So I'm just sitting here, while Courtney plays seductress and writhes above me.
And I'm responding.
Somehow, without any involvement of my brain, the two of us have progressed past most of the stages of foreplay. And I'm looking up at this girl. This blonde, beautiful naked girl who wants me.
Who wants me right now.
I stare up at her as she grins down at me. She's got that look in her eyes. That passionate teasing look. That look that says exactly what she's about to do.
I bite my lip as she slides off my lap.
"Courtney?" I ask.
"Yes Jan," she replies, sitting from the floor.
I don't want her to do this.
I want her and I don't. I don't.
"Don't" I manage.
She cocks her head.
"Don't what?"
"Can't we just, I don't know, talk?"
She raises her eyebrows.
"Talk."
"Yeah."
There's a pause.
"You're kidding, right?"
"No," I say, "I'm not."
She's standing now, leaning in over me.
"You know," she says, "it's so sweet that you think of me. But I don't mind, you can make it up to me later."
I blink. When did we get here? When did whatever relationship we have become a series of "making it up to each other" sessions.
"You know what," she says, "I have an idea, but we can't stay here."
"Yeah?" It's not nearly as enthusiastic as my usual response to her ideas. Her ideas that generally involve nights in her bed, and handcuffs and melted ice cream places it really shouldn't be.
"I'll be waiting for you." She says as she strips off what's left of her clothing. "Come upstairs in just a minute, and I'll be waiting."
And I'm left here, on the coach, with my body reacting to the memories of her last idea, while my mind tells me I shouldn't sleep with whatever she is to me while all I can think about is this afternoon, in the girls locker room, with Missy.
Missy.
Missy.
Before I know what I'm doing I've fumbled my cell out of the pocket of my jacket and tapped in her number.
And it's ringing.
"What's up?"
"Missy?"
There's a silence.
"Jan." "Missy, I -" What is it I'm supposed to say right now? I'm half naked at Courtney's and I'm about to go up to her room but I just wanted to talk to you. I've got this girl offering to fulfill my fantasies upstairs and all I can think about is how you reacted when I touched you this afternoon.
"Missy, I -" I want you. I want to be going upstairs to your room. "Can I come over?"
Woah.
Where did that come from?
"Missy I - " Did I actually just say that out loud. "Are you still there?"
"I'm here." Her voice is flat, emotionless even.
"Missy, I -"
"It's late Jan."
"Yeah it is."
"I'll be in tomorrow." She'll be in tomorrow.
"I'll come round."
And she's gone. Hung up on me.
I sink into the sofa with a smile on my face. Tomorrow can't come soon enough. I rest my head back against the cushions. Tomorrow.
I must have dozed off because suddenly I'm kissing someone. Or being kissed. Or both. I moan slightly as I push my hands into her hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. We duel with our mouths and I let my hands drift down to naked - naked! - shoulders.
The shock makes my eyes fly open.
And I'm taken aback at the sight of blond, not dark, hair.
"Courtney?"
"Hey Lover, who're you expecting?"
Missy.
"You."
"Come on Lover" she says, pulling me to my feet. "Let's go upstairs."
"Courtney," I start, "we should talk."
"We can talk after," she says as she drags me across the room. "Now come on."
We can talk after. Except we can't because she'd kill me. And Missy. And we can't afford this right now. We need to be in sync, we need to be in tune. I can't screw around here. Not this close to the Nationals.
"After."
"Yeah," she says, "after."
I'm trying not to think about what I'm doing.
I'm not betraying Missy because, well because there's nothing there. Yet.
I'm doing this for the team. And myself.
I'm not doing this to Missy.
Courtney grabs my belt and pulls me into her room, with that look in her eyes.
I can't believe I'm turning into that guy, that guy who thinks of one girl while sleeping with another. I'm turning into that guy. I don't want to be that guy. I don't want to be here.
I shut the door behind me.
Maybe if I keep my eyes closed.
Maybe it was predictable. Me guy, her girl. Despite the constant ribbing from the football losers I know that the general perception in school is that we get some. That we get a lot. That the girls are our playthings, or would that be another way around.?
Every now and then I hear rumours, stories, about our conquests. About the threesome Aaron had with Courtney and Whitney, about Big Red's bitches and Darcy's boy toys. I overhear snippets of conversation between classes, comments made in the locker room and occasional insult aimed at my sexuality.
They've paired me with Whitney, Darcy and Carver on occasion. Big Red broke me in for the team and Torrance used me to get captain. Courtney regularly abuses me for sexual favors and I stole Casey's virginity (which is, as far as I know still in existence) from her. But they're never linked me with Missy.
No one's ever linked me with Missy.
They're linked Missy with Torrance and even with Les (which is just crazy coz that boy is about as straight as a circle), but never with me.
So I'm thinking about this. And I'm thinking about the way her skin felt under my fingertips and the way she shook so gently at my touch. And thinking about the look in her eyes and line of her lips.
I'm thinking about all of this. At the worst possible time.
"What you thinking?"
Courtney snuggles up against me with the popcorn. She's got her hair tied up, a few tendrils curling against the nape of her neck. My arms aren't around her, they're stretched along the back of the coach and for the first time ever I'm wondering if I shouldn't be somewhere else entirely.
"Jan?" She leans in, loose strands of her hair tickle my skin as she moves. "You in there?" She grins as she closes in, a flirtatious look in her eyes.
But it's always been like this. We flirt and joke and make out and that's it. That's all it's ever been. We tease and taunt and touch. We kiss and caress and what. I can't remember if we ever talked.
She's kissing my neck, teasing the skin with her lips. And I'm just sitting here. I want her. I always want her. And physically she's pretty much perfect. Physically I can feel myself responding to her touch. But mentally, mentally I'm not even here.
I'm in a locker room, the girl's locker room. And this brunette with an attitude is completely unable to help herself out of this bind she's in. Helpless for the first time since I met her. And ever so gently I'm touching her skin.
Courtney's licking my neck and unbuttoning her shirt. She doesn't even notice I'm not here. The t-shirt I was wearing has already been thrown across the floor sometime when I wasn't paying attention, and she's taking full advantage of that.
I wonder when she's gonna notice I'm not here.
I wonder if she'll notice I'm not here.
So I'm just sitting here, while Courtney plays seductress and writhes above me.
And I'm responding.
Somehow, without any involvement of my brain, the two of us have progressed past most of the stages of foreplay. And I'm looking up at this girl. This blonde, beautiful naked girl who wants me.
Who wants me right now.
I stare up at her as she grins down at me. She's got that look in her eyes. That passionate teasing look. That look that says exactly what she's about to do.
I bite my lip as she slides off my lap.
"Courtney?" I ask.
"Yes Jan," she replies, sitting from the floor.
I don't want her to do this.
I want her and I don't. I don't.
"Don't" I manage.
She cocks her head.
"Don't what?"
"Can't we just, I don't know, talk?"
She raises her eyebrows.
"Talk."
"Yeah."
There's a pause.
"You're kidding, right?"
"No," I say, "I'm not."
She's standing now, leaning in over me.
"You know," she says, "it's so sweet that you think of me. But I don't mind, you can make it up to me later."
I blink. When did we get here? When did whatever relationship we have become a series of "making it up to each other" sessions.
"You know what," she says, "I have an idea, but we can't stay here."
"Yeah?" It's not nearly as enthusiastic as my usual response to her ideas. Her ideas that generally involve nights in her bed, and handcuffs and melted ice cream places it really shouldn't be.
"I'll be waiting for you." She says as she strips off what's left of her clothing. "Come upstairs in just a minute, and I'll be waiting."
And I'm left here, on the coach, with my body reacting to the memories of her last idea, while my mind tells me I shouldn't sleep with whatever she is to me while all I can think about is this afternoon, in the girls locker room, with Missy.
Missy.
Missy.
Before I know what I'm doing I've fumbled my cell out of the pocket of my jacket and tapped in her number.
And it's ringing.
"What's up?"
"Missy?"
There's a silence.
"Jan." "Missy, I -" What is it I'm supposed to say right now? I'm half naked at Courtney's and I'm about to go up to her room but I just wanted to talk to you. I've got this girl offering to fulfill my fantasies upstairs and all I can think about is how you reacted when I touched you this afternoon.
"Missy, I -" I want you. I want to be going upstairs to your room. "Can I come over?"
Woah.
Where did that come from?
"Missy I - " Did I actually just say that out loud. "Are you still there?"
"I'm here." Her voice is flat, emotionless even.
"Missy, I -"
"It's late Jan."
"Yeah it is."
"I'll be in tomorrow." She'll be in tomorrow.
"I'll come round."
And she's gone. Hung up on me.
I sink into the sofa with a smile on my face. Tomorrow can't come soon enough. I rest my head back against the cushions. Tomorrow.
I must have dozed off because suddenly I'm kissing someone. Or being kissed. Or both. I moan slightly as I push my hands into her hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. We duel with our mouths and I let my hands drift down to naked - naked! - shoulders.
The shock makes my eyes fly open.
And I'm taken aback at the sight of blond, not dark, hair.
"Courtney?"
"Hey Lover, who're you expecting?"
Missy.
"You."
"Come on Lover" she says, pulling me to my feet. "Let's go upstairs."
"Courtney," I start, "we should talk."
"We can talk after," she says as she drags me across the room. "Now come on."
We can talk after. Except we can't because she'd kill me. And Missy. And we can't afford this right now. We need to be in sync, we need to be in tune. I can't screw around here. Not this close to the Nationals.
"After."
"Yeah," she says, "after."
I'm trying not to think about what I'm doing.
I'm not betraying Missy because, well because there's nothing there. Yet.
I'm doing this for the team. And myself.
I'm not doing this to Missy.
Courtney grabs my belt and pulls me into her room, with that look in her eyes.
I can't believe I'm turning into that guy, that guy who thinks of one girl while sleeping with another. I'm turning into that guy. I don't want to be that guy. I don't want to be here.
I shut the door behind me.
Maybe if I keep my eyes closed.