Chapter One
It had started between them on the football field, where Mister Lee had them doing sprints along the white painted perimeter. Alexander had no athletic ability whatsoever. He was nothing but the small, new-ish kid whose no-name-brand sweatshirt swallowed him up. He didn't even look sixteen. He was sitting on the sidelines, trying to hide the smug smile that pulled relentlessly at the corners of his lips. He had masterfully crafted up some sob-story about how his stomach hurt from a bad carton of milk he had drank at lunch, and if he even so much as thought about taking a step onto that faux grass, he was gonna hurl.
Mister Lee just ticked his name off on his attendance sheet and jabbed a thumb at the corner of the field, where two other kids sat. His eyes landed on the boy of the pair. He was sort of tall, and muscley in a wiry kind of way, if that made sense. His curly hair was cropped short to his head, but despite its lack of length, it still framed his face in soft coils. He wore a green tie t-shirt that was at least three sizes too big, with the classic versions of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles printed on the front.
He looked up at Alex, his face was smattered with a galaxy of freckles unlike he'd ever seen. What was he doing, sitting in the corner like a dolt with no upper arm strength? That title was reserved for him. Then his gaze trailed down his legs and saw that one was almost completely encased with a blue, plaster cast.
"Hey. Come to join the Losers Club?" A hint of a drawl laced his bright, airy voice. It was a contrast to the humid, dreary setting that surrounded them. The girl, who sat with her legs pulled up close to her chest, elbowed him lightly. Her attention had diverged from something that was in her pale, delicate fingers. A chain of brown-petaled daisies - she was weaving the yellowed stems into a chain that Alexander could see was at least several inches long at that point. She had been working on it for days probably, he thought.
"The Losers Club?" His attention snapped over the boy. "That's what you guys call yourselves?"
"For now, at least." The girl stuck out a thin leg, and over one of her knee socks was a brace. "I twisted my ankle by doing one too many pirouettes - the whole brace seemed a little overkill, but whatever. " She tossed her head with some sort of pride. Her long, husk-yellow hair was weaved back into a tight braid. The end of it was tied off with a baby pink ribbon that matched the cropped t-shirt she wore, showing off a flat strip of her pale stomach.
"Broke it by the creek." The boy tapped the hardened plaster that encased his leg. It was covered with signatures of peoples' names. Some people had gone out of their way to draw hearts around their names. Some drew cartoon characters, and some drew dicks - some were anatomically correct while some couldn't be farther from that. The boy patted the spot beside him. "I'm John, but everyone calls me Laurens."
Alexander settled beside him cautiously. He seemed nice enough, but he couldn't be sure. "Laurens?" He tested out the name on his tongue. Strange - it seemed peculiar enough that he would remember it. John seemed to realize this, and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "By everyone, I mean the two friends I really hang out with-ow!"
The blonde haired girl elbowed him again. "Make that three." She leaned over towards Alexander, and offered him a manicured hand. "Athena Beauford."
"Alexander Hamilton." He took her hand, surprisingly, it was soft. "But people call me.."
He trailed off. For once he had no clue what to say next.. The boy named Laurens filled in that silent gap with three simple words. "How about Alex? Let's call you that."
Alex. Short, simple and sharp. He liked it. For the rest of the period, as the rest of their peers ran around the field, they talked about everything from Athena's summer in London with her mom, Alex's opinion on the final Harry Potter novel, and turtles. Athena became an afterthought, a footnote in the chorus of John's voice. For once, he sat idly, hanging on every word the boy had to say about the many different varieties of terrapins that existed. Alex didn't know there were so many types.
At the end of that period, when the class gathered together to head back inside for 4th period, Alex decided that he kind of liked the curly haired boy, who disappeared in the throngs of their peers with that daisy chain weaved through his hair, and that blue cast following him wherever he went.
But vows to oneself made when they are young are often not kept. This was something he learned the hard way.
It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling to have a girl as heavenly as Olympus herself entangled in his arms. But there Athena was, blonde head nestled in between the crook of his neck and shoulder, pressing soft butterfly kisses up towards his jaw. He ran his hands along the gentle hills and dips of her half-nude body until his fingers reached her clitoris. It was practically throbbing with pent-up release.
They had been slowly swaying to the opening notes of Fleetwood Mac's Landslide, not anticipating much. What had started off as a quiet afternoon just the two of them had rolled into a study session. Alex was poured over essays of practically every word count and subject, revising and editing and reshaping his boundless trails of opinions and backing evidence. As much as he hated to admit it, he had to stop at some point. Athena was sketching the beginnings of what was going to be a collection of..well, he wasn't really sure, but it seemed like it was coming along well. He didn't know a thing about clothes, really, but she claimed whatever it was would get her the internship at Monticello, Thomas Jefferson's fashion house that only served those who were willing to fork over an absurd amount of money for a plain purple turtleneck. Alex had scoffed. She was a shoo-in. There was no need to fight for what she already had waiting for her on the other end.
She gasped when he settled his fingers upon the smooth silky bundle of nerves, and started to work, moving counterclockwise, as slowly as possible. He needed to tease her a little bit.
"Alex.." Athena tossed her head back and shifted her hips so that they crested downwards. She tightened up, just a little bit. He felt his lips curl up into a smirk.
"You like that?"
"More, please?" She whined. Her fingertips curled into his shoulders. The yelping turned to soft, muffled humming when she started to get wet. Alexander felt her spill onto his fingertips, and it trickled down to his palm. Her breathing grew quicker and quicker as Stevie Nicks' voice warbled through the speaker his iPod was connected to. She seemed to grow slicker and slicker with each passing second. He felt the blood start to rush to his member.
She was starting to tighten up again. Her breath hitched. She crested again. As the song reached its closing notes, she was close to climaxing, Alexander could tell. It was subtle, but her graceful movements had since turned sharp. The bed had begun to creak, just a little bit.
"That's it, sweetness. That's it." He coaxed. God, he had missed this; they were still kids, exploring each other like they had thousands of times before, but each time felt as if it was the first all over again.
It was only a matter of moments before she came down from her high, red-cheeked and gasping for breath. A few stray locks of her long, honey-hued hair lay against her face, held down by sweat. He brought his fluid covered fingers out of her cavity and licked them clean.
"You taste divine, dear."
Athena collapsed beside him, shuddering with the last bits of unbound, unfiltered excitement.
"Really?" She asked in a soft, gentle voice, still hazy from the high. Alex felt his chest grow tight. "Can't you just take my word for it?" He cupped Athena's cheek in the palm of his free hand, and ran his thumb over her lightly freckled skin. They were fading now as the summer months came to a close.
She laughed her tinkly laugh. "I guess I don't have much of a choice." He watched as her haze-filled eyes suddenly transfixed on the bulge protruding against the thick fabric of his shorts.
"I don't suppose you want me to take care of that for you, mi amor?" She reached a long, milky manicured hand up towards his waistband, and toyed with the fraying drawstrings.
"Be my guest, dear."
He reveled in the simple strokes she made. When he had almost fully gone erect, she paused to get lube from a bottle that sat on his bedside table - it was her turn to tease him. Just as he was about to come, his hips bucked. He splattered all over his bedspread.
"Fuck." He hissed. That was going to be a bitch to clean up.
"We can throw them in the wash later. Don't worry. It's not like they're made out of silk." Athena murmured. She had left their bed, their island away from the storm of papers that lay strewn across the floor, wrapped in nothing but a flimsy towel. Her doe-brown eyes seemed to bore through him in that innocent way he had somehow managed to take a liking to. It was her turn to smirk.
"There's only room in that tub for one." She teased. He fought back the urge to follow after her. They had spent practically the whole day in their little love nest. He changed into a fresh pair of boxers, kicked his sodden shorts underneath the bed and mulled about the room, picking up thick pieces of watercolor paper and crumpled up leaflets of notebook pages. He neatly set the watercolor pages in a pile in the corner of his desk. The leaflets went into the metal waste bin by the door. He then stripped the bed of its sheets and headed to the washer.
Alex didn't know how Laurens had managed to score a place with a washer and dryer, especially with how high the rent was in the city now. He suspected his father Henry had something to do with it, but he knew not to touch the subject, so instead, he danced around it, pretending like it wasn't there.
It was hard to see over the bundle of blue that was overflowing in his arms. At first he thought that he had bumped into Athena.
"Mi amor, don't worry about the wash, I'm taking care of it."
A throaty laugh rose up from in front of him, and a curly mass of hair rose up above the pile.
"You been brushin' up on your Spanish there, Alex?"
Shit.
"Laurens, I..I thought you were her."
John stepped to the side. He had just gotten back from finals, judging by the understuffed satchel he had slung over his shoulder and the bright grin he wore on his face. The city was still sweltering, so his wardrobe was confined to a faded, plain green tank top, cargo shorts, and Keds. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm anything but." He struck the pose of a chiseled Adonis, getting a laugh out of the shorter, squarely built man beside him. He glanced at the sheets, and his friend. He rolled back on his heels, and folded his arms over his chest. "I take it y'all were busy studying."
He felt his heart skip a beat. "Of course. Nothing beats hitting the books."
"Yeah, after you hit that-"
"Shut up!" Alex hissed. His grip on the load of fabric grew tight. John's eyes crinkled at the corners with childlike glee at watching his friend get riled up. It was all in good fun.
"Oh, come on. There's no use in actin' like what y'all do is a secret. Especially since I got you this," He lifted the flap of his satchel, reached inside, and held out a tiny, leather bound box towards Alex. "Jeweler called this mornin', remember? You asked me to pick it up for you."
The ring. How could he have forgotten? He felt his heart throw itself up against his chest.
"You checked it, right?"
"Yep. South Sea pearl, fitted in a golden band." He gently lifted the top, and it was sitting on a little velvet pillow, exactly as described. Alex couldn't believe it.
"It's beautiful."
"Sure is." John snapped the top shut.
"What gives?" Alex cried hushedly.
John snorted. "You think I'm gonna let you carry this around?"
"Yes!"
"No way."
"And why the hell not?"
Laurens shook his head goodnaturedly, slipped the box back into his bag, and started down the hall to his own room. "You'll just lose it."
It was then that Alex dropped the sheets; they fell to the hardwood with an unceremonious thump. He wasn't going to let them get in the way of a debate, that was for sure. "Now, hold on, Laurens, I paid for that ring. I only asked you to pick it up. That doesn't make it yours to keep!"
There was no answer except for the opening notes of Smells Like Teen Spirit that seeped out from underneath the latter's door. Alex ran a hand through his sleep, dark locks, sent astray from the day's activities, and shuffled over the sheets he had abandoned.
How did I wind up living with such a child, he thought to himself as he squeezed the mass of blue and gray cotton into the tiny metal cylinder of the washer, ignoring the fact that he could act the very same way. It was like they were two sides of the same coin. He thought of the ring. Athena.
Maybe he and Laurens were a pair, but he and Athena were a match, an odd one, but they complimented each other well. Laurens had made it known that he thought otherwise, but only in drunken privacy.
Alex didn't care.
He just pressed the start button on the washing machine and started his way back to his room to catch up on the work he had left behind.
