This is my first submission so constructive criticism is welcome. Feel free to tell me whether to continue or not. I don’t want to continue with a story people are not enjoying. Thanks.
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“Does anyone know why Romeo would kill himself just because he thought Juliet dead?” my professor asked looking around the class speculatively. She looks at me expectantly so I drawl, “Because he couldn’t stand the thought of not getting laid again?” The class bursts into laughter but Mrs. Dahlia has raised her eyebrows and is looking at me with a We-Are-Not-Amused expression.
“If you do not have anything constructive to say, Mr Tyler, then I’d appreciate if you did not say anything at all.” Bitch, I think. She knows I hate when she calls me by my surname but I’m in no position to argue so I settle for scowling at her instead.
English Literature, as you can probably tell, is not one of my favourite subjects. I just can’t seem to grasp how reading and dissecting books and poetry is any fun. Mrs. Dahlia, of course, realises this and spends most of the lessons trying to bait me into answering stupid questions. However, being that I passed all my subjects except this one, it is a necessary evil that I must put up with.
I’m just in the process of thinking up evil ways of getting rid of Mrs. Dahlia when I hear a soft, melodic voice from the back of the class. I frown, not recognising whose voice it is and so crane my neck around to see who is speaking.
It’s shy guy, otherwise known as Alexander Storm. The guy is so quiet I forget he’s even in my class. He’s giving Mrs. Dahlia the answer to her question and from the smile playing on her lips; I know she likes what she’s hearing. Again, I’m scowling.
It’s not that I don’t like Alex. It’s just that he’s so brilliant at English and although he doesn’t speak much, when he does it’s so insightful an answer that even a dumbass like me understands. eryaman escort But just because I respect his talent doesn’t mean I have to be his number one fan.
The bell rings and I’m up out of my chair like a shot. Today I’m meeting my new roommate and I’m slightly worried that they’re going to turn out to be some freaky weirdo. As I rush through the halls I’m stopped repeatedly by people- Ok girls- who want to flirt or attract my attention.
I’m what you call popular. No. 1 in the Rifle club, I speak 3 languages (English, Spanish and French) and I’m captain of the Rugby team. Standing at 6’2″ 230 lbs with what have been known to be called ‘mysterious’ grey eyes, full lips and short, silky black hair doesn’t do me any harm either. Unfortunately for these girls, I’m gay. This, however doesn’t seem to act as a deterrent.
Most guys would get bullied for being openly gay at my college but soon as most guys can’t break a jaw with a single punch, people are happy enough to accept me as I am.
I make it to my hall just in time to notice a pair of long legs disappear into my room.
When I enter the room there’s a back facing me. I cough pointedly to attract his attention and when he turns around our faces are a mirror image of disbelief.
“Seth Tyler”
“Alex Storm”
Of all the people in the world. Why him?
I make an effort to smile but inside I’m pissed. An entire campus of people and they stick me with Alex fucking Storm. Mr I’m so fucking clever. The hostility must be coming off me in waves now because he’s looking distinctly uncomfortable and his cheeks have gone red. As a show of friendliness I offer my hand and he takes mine, surprising me with a firm grip. I also notice his hands are incredibly soft.
“Um… I know you probably don’t want me as your roommate-
Fucking understatement.
“-but I’d really like for us to get along eryaman escort bayan and perhaps know each other better”
I realise I’m scowling, so I plaster a smile a smile on my face and enthuse falsely “No it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll get on great”
Like a fucking house on fire, I think sarcastically.
I immediately regret it when I see the smile of genuine joy on his face. He’s quite sweet if I think about it. Some would say beautiful. He’s about 6″1′ with a leaner frame than mine and big luminous green eyes, a halo of blond hair and luscious full red lips. My mind wanders and I briefly imagine them wrapped around my…
Whoa. Now where did that come from?
I steer my mind away from these forbidden thoughts and instead show Alex to his side of the room. I explain to him that I’m sometimes a messy roommate almost daring him to challenge this but instead he treats me to another of his brilliant smiles.
“That’s fine, my brother was messy too.”
I notice the flicker of sadness in his eyes and wonder what the story is there.
Before I can enquire, he’s telling me he has to get the rest of his stuff and he’s gone before I can even react. I decide to have a nosey on his side of the room and notice the picture of him and another boy propped up on his dressing table. For reasons beyond me my stomach lurches and for a split second I’m consumed with jealousy.
“That’s my brother” a voice informs me at my side.
I didn’t hear him come in and I nearly jump out of my skin, acting like a naughty school child getting caught doing something he shouldn’t have. I also feel stupid for assuming that the boy in the picture was his lover.
I splutter “I’m sorry” confused as to why I am so nervous in his presence.
“Don’t worry about it.” He sits down on his bed heavily. “He’s gone now”
“Gone where?”
He gives me a watery smile, “I mean he’s escort eryaman dead.”
I immediately curse myself for being so dense. I sit down next to him and awkwardly pat his shoulder trying to comfort him.
“I’m sorry” I repeat again.
Before I can say anything else he’s burst into tears and is sobbing uncontrollably into my shoulder. Now I really feel awkward. I’m not used to people using my shirt as a tissue and so acting on nothing more than instinct I wrap my huge arms around him and mumble that everything’s going to be okay. Not exactly the most helpful of words but I really don’t know what to say.
I suddenly feel a rush of tenderness towards him and am surprised by how much my feelings towards him have changed in just the space of a few minutes. I continue to rock him while he spills his heart out to me. At 16, two years younger than Alex, his brother had contracted viral pneumonia which severely weakened his heart. He needed a transplant but before a suitable match could be found he had died. His mother was not taking his death well and his dad was refusing to grieve making the situation even worse. In order to escape with his sanity he had applied for student accommodation and taken the first offer he had been given. By the end of this outpouring I’m almost in tears myself. Eventually his sobbing lessens and then ceases completely.
“Alex?” I call softly.
I lift the hair off his face and peer into his face, realising he has fallen asleep. Impulsively I wipe away his tears and carry him to his bed. I remove his clothes leaving him clad only in his boxers. I can’t help but admire his sleeping form and before I’ve realised what I’m doing, I’ve planted a soft kiss on his beautiful lips.
Instantly I’m appalled. Kissing someone who has given you no inclination as to whether they are gay or not was not something I wanted to indulge in. He stirred and I froze expecting him to wake up and deck me one but instead he lets out a sigh and turns onto his side.
I slink into bed and make a conscious effort not to stroke myself to how enticing his body felt and the wonderful taste of his gorgeously soft mouth.
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