Please note: This is my first fic, period. I'm going to try and make it a good one, but please bear with me. Also, I have been influenced by other writers, and may use some of the same topics, but the plot ideas are all my own. -§teph

This story takes place after the first year of Eden Hall. They will have turned sixteen.

Charlie's POV

I knew he probably wouldn't appreciate me standing there, but I had to do something. I couldn't just let it end. I would never forgive myself if it went down like that. So, there I was. I felt a flush meet my cheeks, and noticed a look of horror on Adam's. His own facials were dusted with a crimson. I felt suddenly guilty, why had I chosen now, of all times, to do this? He wasn't…ready, and I hadn't really thought of what I was going to say. I decided to go with what I normally did, and I knew it would work…Poetry. Adam couldn't resist a good Shakespearean segment. I knew from experience that it was his major turn-on.

When in doubt, use your sensitive side… Being with Banks, that seemed to be the only thing that worked. If I got all manly around him, he got indignant, and said I was being sexist. Oh yeah, me? Sexist? Ha! The thought of that alone was enough to send me into fits of laughter. This hardly seemed the time to laugh though. I couldn't help it, I really couldn't. I sat down on the bench, I knew this was serious...I knew, really I did. I tried to hold it in, but…I felt like I was inflating, and I could tell I was getting to look like a tomato!

He didn't appreciate my carelessly humored response. He must have thought I was laughing at him, or, his appearance rather. His appearance, however, was nothing that I'd ever laugh at…it was more of an intriguing thing. I found myself thinking, Now, why wasn't I the first one to think of the towel scene? as I calmed down, and stopped laughing. I smiled at him, standing up. I cleared my throat, knowing what he thought was coming. He probably thought it'd be a huge lecture, or speech. Not for me, just some literature. Shakespeare to be exact…I would win this boy's heart back, no matter what it took.

"Angels and ministers of grade defend us!
Be thou a spirit of health of goblin damned.
Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
Be thy intents wicked or charitable…"

I didn't have a chance to finish before he was on me. His kisses like a spring shower, welcomed in hopes of more to come. I was wicked, oh so wicked, I knew. I had recited Hamlet. It was both our favorites, and we knew most of it by heart, along with fragments of other plays. Back to Adam, now. After a few minutes of this intensely tormented confession, he backed off, content in holding me in his arms, and vise-versa. What he hadn't noticed, was that his towel had slipped during his frenzy. At first it had just revealed the seductive cleavage, and fallen still lower, to poise him naked before me.

I looked down, then back up at him. I bit my lip to conceal the expression I knew would make him feel awkward. I had never seen that before, never. It might come as a surprise, but Adam and I weren't about sex. Not at all. I was the hot-headed one, and Adam called me a typical male…although I was far from typical. The last line of my recited, "Be thy intents wicked or charitable", it seemed to describe us to a Q. My intents being the wicked, and Adam, well…he was always more sensitive, and 'charitable', while I couldn't care less. Sometimes I though he kept coming back out of pity. I couldn't really tell. Most people thought me humble…Oh how wrong they are.

He quickly picked up his towel, departing from my grasp. The crimson returned, brighter than ever I had seen it.

"Oo-la-la, Banksie."

His blush grew, and he quickly changed into his street clothes, pulling them on before I could get a better look.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself," I apologized keenly.

"Hmph. Yeh, right," He retorted good-naturedly, "Why the hell do you always do that? Just when I think I've finally gotten free, you drag me back in with femininity. It fits you oh-so well, Charlie. You chose the wrong profession."

His words were all in fun, and I knew it. I also knew that he was right, however. Both of us considered poetry rather feminine, and weren't ashamed to announce that we adored it. Him, more than I. He meant that I should be a writer, he'd teased me about that for ages. I'd chosen hockey, my second pride, my second joy. My first in both categories being Banks, of course.

It came along, in the start, when Bombay and my mom had started 'seeing' each other. At first I hadn't liked the coach, so I'd spent more time away from home. That's when Adam and I had started getting close, that way, I mean. We'd always been pretty close, accept for when he retreated to the Hawks. There'd been feud there, but it subsided and we were back to being friends, even though we were on opposite teams. After the coach left to play on the North Stars, my mom started seeing this other guy. He wasn't much of a catch, but he was nice to my mom. At least I can say that much for her, since he was abusive towards me. That's another thing Adam and I have in common. We've been beaten to pulp by our father figures. Adam never really told me what the matter with his family was, but I guessed it was a deep, dark secret. So, once my mom re-married, I stayed as far away from home as I could. Banks was incredibly supportive, even though he knew that my mom was worried sick. She kept calling, to see it I was there, and he'd cover for me, over and over and over. I never saw much of his mom, and I guess there must have been a reason for that too.

It had come to be, that summer. Like I said, my mom had re-married this stupid bloke, and Adam and I got close. We got closer than I had ever though a guy and guy could get. We knew each other in and out, through and through. We both came to the same conclusion…We were gay. It was a hard sentence to rapture from the depths of us, but we managed it. We'd both come from hell-hole living, so it kind of made sense.

Once Adam was done, he sat down next to me. His eyes meeting mine with full-adornment. It caught me off-guard, to see his emotions so openly. He never met my eye when he felt like that, I'd always had to fish for his gaze. Moments like these were awkward, definitely, but we got through 'em.

"Charlie, I'm sorry."

"Shhh…I know, Cake-eater."

"I don't know why I do stupid things like that."

"I do!" I said this triumphantly. Finally! I thought, I know something he doesn't!

"You do?" His tone was of humored surprise. Good, I had enlightened him.

"Male hormones! Duh. Sheish Banks, you shoulda known that!"
We both laughed, and it seemed impossible, that we were being…watched.