A/N: The contest in the last chapter was won by Liams Kitten and Accidental.Enlightenment, but she told me to give it to someone else... and so they won't be eligible for the next contest, but the good news is, THERE WILL BE ANOTHER ONE. Just not for a few more chapters. -Layne

It's seven-fifteen, and here I am, sitting at the desk in my room, tapping a pencil anxiously against the pages of my United States History textbook in a failed attempt to concentrate on homework. I've showered and shaved already, and I've brushed my teeth approximately six times since I ate dinner, and these last fifteen minutes are positively killing me.
Racetrack was nice enough to let me borrow his best dress shirt, though I didn't exactly tell him what it was for, and I decided to comb my hair back, rather than parting it in the middle like I normally do. I have to say, I look pretty damned good. Hell, I'd do me, if I were another gay (or questioning) man.
"You got a date or somethin', Specs?" Jack asks as he and David walk in from dinner. "Or are you just all dolled-up for no reason, like some housewife?"
"Housewife? Jack, what in the hell are you talking about?" David looks at him like he's crazy. I don't blame him, the housewife comment didn't make a whole lot of sense to me, either.

"You know, vacuuming in pearls… except Specs is studying in dress clothes and cologne."
"Uh… huh… yeah, that was a bad analogy." David shakes his head in confusion looks at me. "Anyway, yeah, are you going on a date?"
"Um, no. I'm, uh, going into town to see a movie." I scratch my head.
"Alone?" Jack leans against his bedpost, one eyebrow cocked quizzically.
"Well, no."
"So it's a date," David smirks. It doesn't work for him. Smirking and being a smart-ass are two of the very few things David Jacobs is completely terrible at.
"I told you guys, it's not a date!"
"Well, who are you going with, then?" They both look at me expectantly.
I feel myself blush, which pisses me off, and I'm sure that makes my face turn even more red. "Dutchy."
They smirk. "He's straight, pal…" Jack says, actually looking like he might pity me a little bit.
"He's dating my sister," David chimes in.
"So what?" I snap. "Friends can't go to a movie together? Jesus, I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition!"
"NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!" They yell this in unison, then fall together, cracking up. At this moment, Dutchy appears in the open doorway, looking a little confused. I have never been so grateful to see anyone in my entire life.
Dutchy looks at Jack and David and then at me. "Uh… you ready to go?"
"More so than you could possibly imagine."
We head down to the front of the dormitory and get in the cab he's called. As we pull up in front of the movie theatre, I quickly hand the cabbie half of the fare, before Dutchy can protest.
"Specs, you don't have to do that. I can get the fare."
"I don't want you to have to pay for everything."
"Okay, but I'm paying for your movie ticket." I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head. "I invited you. I pay. Now, let's go see this movie."
I sigh in exasperation. "Fine by me."

After the movie, we wander around the city for a little while. Dutchy shows me Central Park, which I never got the opportunity to really see when I visited New York City with my parents.
"So, I kinda liked the movie," Dutchy says, kicking a rock out of the way and sending a flock of pigeons flying.
"Yeah, me too. Johnny Depp is one good-looking man." I sigh in an overly dramatic, dreamy sort of way, and Dutchy chuckles nervously.
"Um, sure," he says, watching the pigeons regroup a few feet away.
We wander around quietly for a little while, with me taking in the sights and Dutchy explaining certain things to me now and then.
We play "count the bums" for a while, and once we get past Bum Number Seventy-Three, Dutchy stops. "Um, Specs?"
I stop and look around, wondering what we're standing still for. "Uh… yeah?"
He shuffles his feet and stares at the ground. It's quite possibly the most precious thing I've ever seen. "Look, I've been thinking…"
I wait a beat. "About what?"
He looks up at me. "Please don't interrupt me right now, this is kind of important."
I blink. "You paused. I thought you wanted me to say something."
"Seriously, Specs."
He looks at me pleadingly and I nod, staring at him in bewilderment. I'm pretty sure he's going to tell me we can't be friends anymore, because he's afraid my gay-ness is rubbing off on him. Just the thought of it makes me angry. I knit my eyebrows together.
"Look, Specs, I - please don't look at me like that - I've been thinking, you know, about… lots of stuff… and I think I've finally come to a conclusion." I nod, waiting for him to keep going. "I've been really confused lately, and I guess it's not like you really brought it all on, I mean, I've been feeling these things for a while here but just figured they were passing moments of insanity… but here you are, and everything is so strong now. Intensified." He sighs and leans against a statue. I don't even mention that he's probably covering the back of his shirt in bird shit and God knows what else.
"So I went over everything in my head, over and over again, and I decided that I think I want to give this a try."
I nod and stare at him, confused.
"This is the part where you're allowed to say something."
"Sorry… give what a try?"
Dutchy sighs again and shakes his head. "God damn it, Specs." And before I know it, he's standing right in front of me. He puts his hands on either side of my face, and presses his lips firmly to mine. I yelp a little in surprise, and then I relax. Just as my arms find their way around his waist, he pulls away.
This time, when I open my eyes and examine his face, it isn't wide-eyed and shocked. He looks relaxed, even a little bit happy with a small smile on his lips. I stand and just look at him for a moment, and he nods.
"That was good," he says, pushing his hair out of his face. Not knowing what to say in response, I smile. No, I full-on grin. This is probably the greatest moment I've ever experienced in my sixteen years. "I like you."
"I like you too, Dutchy," I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. I feel suddenly very nervous. I've never outright admitted my romantic feelings toward someone. It's nerve-wracking, but it feels good.
Dutchy's face breaks out in a huge grin. He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses my forehead. It's the sweetest gesture anyone has ever done for me. As he lays his head on my shoulder, he says, quietly, "I want to be with you, Specs."
I sigh and put my arms around him as well. Nodding, I whisper, "I want to be with you, too."