Archive of Our Own

“Jamie, we need a few popcorns over here.”

“Got it.”

I handed the popcorns to the customers, accidently peeking through the break in the crowd and spotting the two wrestlers in the middle of the mat. Do I have any interest in high school wrestling? No, not at all. Do I have any interest in wrestling as a whole? No, not really; our class needed money for this trip we wanted to go on, so I had to sign-up as a worker for concessions. The trip isn’t until the end of the year, but everyone is required to work at least three times, and I figured the wrestling season would be quieter than basketball season. I heard that not a lot of people come to wrestling matches, so I signed-up for a few of them in hopes that it would get my classmates off my back—the rumor I heard was a lie. Swarms of people would rush down to the concession stand after each match, after each round of wrestling was over. I know shit about wrestling, but apparently the rounds go pretty fast, especially since this was the regional meet.

Safe to say, I was not happy to find that out when I arrived at eight-thirty in the morning.

Thankfully, the day was almost over; the final match was finishing up, and much of the crowd had already left. I was supposed to wipe down the tables and then close the stand—amazingly, I didn’t procrastinate, managing to hold in my vomit and wipe the remnants of food off the dining tables. Who even likes tacos? I wondered, interrupting the song playing in my head. They’re disgusting, not to mention, messy as hell. Who wants to eat a mash-up of seven different foods? It just sounds nasty. I need to stop thinking about it before I throw-up again.

“Jamie, come pull this down!” One of the girls called, laughing pathetically as she tried to pull the large shade down to close the concessions.

I remained silent as I had the entire day, living-up to my “silent emo-boy” title. The song in my head immediately raised the volume of its screams as the annoying girls tried to hide their disdain for me, which I didn’t understand, because there was no one they would have to hide from; it’s not like anyone would assume they were flirting with me, a white-trash emo punk rocker who wears eyeliner, ignores anyone who doesn’t wear black, listens to Smashing Pumpkins and has a bellybutton ring (that they don’t need to know about). Who were they trying to kid? They must have been flattering themselves with the theory of everyone secretly admiring them for wearing the same outfit as every other girl at our suburban high school…idiots.

Strolling across the kitchen as casually as my black skinny jeans would allow, I blasted a particular song until the speakers in my ears were shot.

Imagine living like a king someday

A single night without a ghost in the walls

We are the shadows screaming take us now

We’d rather die than live to rust on the ground 

Just as I reached up for the shade, someone came hurdling towards the counter.

“Wait!” A teenage boy heaved, throwing himself forward to stop me. He was holding a crumpled dollar in his hand. “Can I get a drink quick?”

“What do you want?” I asked blankly.

“Uhhhhhh……water. I’ll take a water.”

I took the money quickly, turning to grab him a water as the girls silently thought through their flirty remarks. They had been waiting for their “school chums” to come around all day long, and they were especially eager to congratulate the members of our wrestling team, since a happier topic usually means happier flirting, which equals easier prey. Devon Ainsley, a popular boy toy and athletically inclined classmate just so happened to be one of the best wrestlers on the team, even though he’s only a sophomore. I guessed he was in heaven right about now, being showered in compliments as some loser from a lower social class waited on him…arrogant people get a kick out of that shit. Gotta please the ladies, you know.

“I heard you won today, Devon!”

“That’s so cool! Do you get to go to state, now?”

“Girls,” Our advisor called from behind. “Come count this money, would ya? We have to figure out how much we made.”

The girls didn’t resist but were noticeably bratty by the way they sluggishly drug themselves over and rolled their eyes. I held back an eye-roll of my own as I sighed, holding Devon’s water out to him; I had been trying to avoid eye contact (even though that’s considered a submissive sign in higher primates), but couldn’t help sneaking a peek at his solid gaze, those disgustingly, perfectly fluffy brown eyebrows, that strong jawline and politely muscled neck. Devon’s pretty shrimpy, standing stocky at 5’7, while I’m over 5’10, long and lanky—I had to angle my head down a few inches to look at him. We have some classes together, but I try to keep to myself (I guess I shouldn’t say ‘try,’ since I have a success rate of 99%) most of the time, so my surprise at his up-close appearance made sense. In a large school like ours, you don’t really meet a majority of your classmates, and due to my emo status, I’m not usually in the midst of first meetings, unlike cute jocks like Devon, or so most of the girls say. I may have come to terms with my secret homosexual tendencies a few years ago, but that doesn’t mean I can’t let myself be in denial once in a while.

“Here you go,” I mumbled without malice.

“Thanks,” Devon said genuinely.

He reached out to take his water bottle, and while doing so, our fingertips touched for a split-second—my usually freezing vampire flesh suddenly erupted with fire, sending an odd tingle through my wrist. I ignored it in annoyance, wondering why Devon was still hanging around when he seemed to be in a hurry a minute earlier. For a strange moment, the two of us stood there and…looked at each other. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but…it was just a really long second. Long enough to make me suspicious. I wasn’t used to having such connections, since most of my eye-contact lasts half a second, and if it’s longer than that, it’s only because I’m having a staring contest with my cat, Gerard. I wondered what this punk thought of my dark eyeliner, if he thought it was “gay” or poorly applied. Devon seemed to realize our weird little moment, too, and he finished the second by turning away, thanking me once again.

“Thanks; see you around.”

“Yeah…”

I watched in silence as the wrestler disappeared around the corner, merging with the rest of the bustling crowd while trying to find their way toward the exit. This day is too weird, I thought, able to see clearly again. Did I just have a bromance moment with the only other male classmate within a mile? Why can’t I remember what happened before he came? Are his teeth really that straight and white? Is that a thing?

“You can close up, Jamie.”

“Oh—yeah,” I answered, shaking my head and sliding the heavy shade down. “Can I leave, now?”

“Yeah, thanks for helping out.”

The advisor’s comment went right through my head as I slipped my jacket over my bony shoulders. For some reason, I was in a more thoughtful mood, now, still asking silent, stupid questions: I wondered if my shoulder muscles were considered pathetic compared to Devon’s and the other wrestler’s. I wasn’t thinking it in a superficial way…just curiosity. Upper body strength must be pretty important for wrestling.

By the time I made it home following an exhausting day full of uncomfortably forced conversation with strangers, stressful rushes of customers and irritating conversation between teenage girls, Devon was all but erased from my memory—I took Gerard for a walk (tried to, at least), fixed my headphones, ate leftover pizza, ordered six new bellybutton rings from Hot Topic and showered, all without remembering I had a strange run-in with one of my distant classmates. My dad called from Santa Fe near midnight, when I was just starting my day; I decided, after the call, that I would never tell him about my piercing. He’s already homophobic enough, so I really don’t think exposing such a “gay” location for a piercing (to him, any piercing no matter the location must lead to some kind of indecent sexual behavior with someone of the same gender) would be a wise choice.

Despite all these distractions and worries, when I finally went to bed at around two in the morning, I noticed the tip of my middle finger was red with irritation, still burning from some strange sensation. It took me ten-minutes of brainstorming to realize when the skin had begun burning. And so, I went to bed on Saturday night with my cat hogging the pillow, blaming my classmate Devon for this extra annoyance, hoping that when Monday came, there would be enough students in our crowded hallways for me to never catch sight of him again.

This small incident would only be the first of our many run-ins.

~~-~~

Devon was nearly gone from my memory by the time Friday came. Sure, I noticed his name in the paper and the school announcements, congratulating him and the other wrestlers on their successful day, but other than that, I didn’t make accidental eye-contact, didn’t brush shoulders with him the hallway and didn’t spare him a single thought throughout the entire week.

Then Friday hit.

It started out plainly enough; I was sitting in the back of the classroom with a few of my “emo” friends, swapping stories until the bell rang; I suddenly remembered the fucked-up thing Gerard had done to me on Wednesday when I came home after school.

“That reminds me!” I began, silencing my friends. “I was going to the bathroom the other day, and when I walked in there, my cat was sitting in the sink licking herself. So I told her to get out or whatever, because I really had to go, but she refused to leave, even when I pushed her around and got her out of the sink.”

My friends gave me weird looks, curious as to where this conversation was headed.

“But after trying to get her to leave for five minutes, I finally just went, because I really had to pee, you know, and I swear on my life, she was staring at it.”

“It?” My friend repeated. “You mean…”

“Yes!”

They erupted into laughter, but that wasn’t what I listened to—someone else was laughing, two rows away, on the other side of the friend sitting across from me. It was Devon. He had his hand up at his mouth, trying to cover his smile by pretending to be scratching his cheek. I was so caught-up and confused by the act that I almost missed my friend’s remark.

“Jamie,” He cackled, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I really don’t think your cat was staring at your junk.”

“B-but it felt like she was!” I claimed. “It freaked me out, I was really uncomfortable!”

My friends continued to laugh in disbelief, and as I tried to explain the creepiness to them, I noticed Devon look over at me, eyes still crinkled from his hidden giggles.

“You guys don’t understand!” I pleaded desperately, trying to hide my own smile. “It was freaky, because when I came back later to lay on my bed, she was lying on my pillow, and I swear to god, she looked me up and down like she knew something.”

They were pretty much inconsolable after that, but my attention was locked on Devon; he was hunched over his desk now, still covering his face, even though it was obvious that he was laughing. I watched his back jerk up and down and listened for the sound of his laughter; they were silent, however, so I settled with watching, amusing myself by imagining his laugh to be high and uncontrollable.

Suddenly, the bell rang, and I found my eyes trailing after Devon.

As I walked to my locker in a haze, my thoughts were filled with questions. They were more curious than suspicious this time around, but I still couldn’t help but wonder why Devon had decided to start making appearances in my life. There was nothing to gain from being my friend; I wasn’t popular, wealthy, well-liked or even well-known around the large community. There was nothing particularly interesting about me, besides the fact that I had a secret bellybutton ring…I theorized that maybe Devon had gotten into hard rock music and that he wanted to observe me to see what he would turn into.

I just couldn’t put a finger on his character.

When I walked into my house later that day and saw Gerard lying on my pillow again, I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. I imagined what Devon’s reaction would be if I would have told the story to him and him alone. Maybe he wouldn’t have hidden his laugh. I know he’s a popular kid and all, but it didn’t seem like he was hiding his laugh because he didn’t want anyone to know he was laughing at something I said; he was just…laughing. Simple as that. I’m not the kind of outsider who convinces themselves of the lesser charge, just to spare my own feelings.

Devon was a mystery indeed.

It’s not like I need more friends, I told myself, scoffing at the idea. It’s only normal human instincts that are making me feel this way. Someone laughs at your joke, you wonder if they want to be your friend, you wonder if they think you’re funny, cool to hang-out with. Devon doesn’t want to be my friend. He’s just a normal guy who laughs at unusual things, like Gerard, my cat.

It didn’t help matters when my mom was reading the paper and asked me if I knew any of the boys on the wrestling team. I said I had Devon in a few of my classes, which, to my mom, basically means we’re best friends.

“That’s cool!” She said excitedly, showing me the picture of the team in the paper. “Their team is supposed to win state! I didn’t know Devon was one of the best ones in his weight class…that’s pretty impressive for a sophomore, don’t you think?”

“He’s only in the 160-pound weight class.”

“Jamie! Be nice!”

Next Monday, when I was at my locker, I turned my head, unconsciously searching for Devon in the wave of students hurrying to get to class. When I didn’t see him, I found myself disappointed.

~~~-~~~

“Fuck everything,” I hissed under my breath as I stomped into the school bathroom, trying to find the stupid little eyeliner pencil in my mess of a backpack.

Predictably, I overslept on Monday morning and ended up sprinting to school just as it started pouring rain. I didn’t have time to apply my eyeliner, obviously, and by the time I made my way inside, I realized I had been wasting much needed energy for no reason, because first period was already half-over; I then remembered that my alarm clock is an entire hour behind. Basically, I was stressed for no reason because I was already late by the time I woke-up. I whispered another “fuck” to get it out of my system and tried to calm myself down long enough to smoothly apply the eyeliner.

It’s not like I need to hurry, I thought, still grumpy as I dragged the black across my eyelid. I’m already late, I’m already irritated…there’s no use in making it worse by hurrying. Besides; if I show-up to class without any eyeliner on, I’ll have to spend the rest of my day listening to people’s comments.

Gritting my teeth at the idea, I finished the bottom of my left eye, moving to the top.

The world is a vampire, sent to drain

Secret destroyers, hold you up to the flames

And what do I get, for my pain?

Betrayed desires, and a piece of the game

Even though, I know, I suppose I’ll show

All my cool and cold, like old job

“Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage,”  I finished with a sigh, staring at my reflection. With only half my makeup done, I looked like an actual vampire; dark circles underneath my eyes, bony fingers, cold, dripping-wet clothing, exasperated gaze…I wouldn’t be surprised if—

The bathroom door was whipped open, and in stumbled Devon, still wearing his pajama pants.

He halted when he spotted me, mouth hovering open almost as much as mine was. His pink pajama pants had Hello Kitty all over them. I couldn’t really take-in the rest of his appearance because I had noticed his eyes flicker towards the eyeliner in my hand; a scowl overcame my angry features immediately, recognizing his gaze from that of my father’s.

“Overslept?” He asked, breaking the silence.

I hurried to close the eyeliner, wanting to whisper another curse under my breath.

“Yeah,” I basically growled, dropping the cap on the floor. That crossed the line of my patience. “Fuck.”

I guess I’ll just go to a new bathroom, then! I thought in fury, snatching the cap off the dirty floor. Not like I care what this asshole thinks of me. A teacher will probably stop me and tell me to get to class, of course, but I can afford to be suspended once, can’t I? I have to finish my eyeliner before second period starts, otherwise I’ll just be even more pissed off, and then who knows what will happen. Our school may be too populated for everyone to know everyone, but people will notice something different, and the last thing I want is to be noticed by the wrong type of peop—

“It’s okay!” Devon said, making me freeze again. “You can finish. I won’t judge or anything…I mean…I’m wearing Hello Kitty pants, so…”

I blinked, looking down at his pajama pants again, noticing the heap of clothing he had tucked underneath his arm. When I didn’t say anything, Devon’s chuckles died out awkwardly as he shifted on his feet; I turned back towards the mirror uncomfortably, his words not processing.

“I won’t judge or anything…” Where have I heard that before? Oh yeah—basically every other person in the world who says it and proceeds to judge me, thinking I took their words to heart.

After releasing another (calming) sigh, I uncapped the eyeliner and brought it back up to my eye. You need to calm down, Jamie, I told myself silently. It does look cool when it’s smudged, but the bottom line is already straight, so you just have to calm down…release the tension from your body…calm down…and just…apply your eyeliner.

I managed to do what I put my mind to, making a nearly perfect upper line to combine with the bottom one. Eyeliner isn’t a disguise so much as it is my taste; it’s one of the only things that looks good on me (that, and the color black) so I wear it. And I like it. Simple.

As I felt myself relaxing ever-so-slightly, I heard shuffling behind me and remembered I wasn’t alone anymore. When I moved my hand, setting the tip of the pencil onto my skin, I caught sight of Devon in the mirror: he was standing there…without a shirt on…trying to get his sweatshirt to not be inside out. I wasn’t even aware of the fact that the eyeliner was slowly making a dark line down my cheek.

I used to wonder if upper-body strength was really that important for the sport of wrestling—I now know the answer to that question, and can answer in vivid detail to my mom next time she asks, though, I most likely won’t word it to her the way I was thinking it…

In the longest seven seconds of my life, I realized that Devon’s trapezius muscles couldn’t simply be described as being “bigger” than mine. They were solid, compact works of art. If I hadn’t been so distracted, I would have felt insignificant and small compared to him. His entire upper body was toned—by toned, I mean ripped beyond my wildest imagination, kind of like Patrick Swayze or Bruce Lee. Devon’s abs (there must be a more fitting word than that) weren’t just compacted into his lower stomach; they were spread-out, moving all the way out to his ribs, like a dancer who spends their time twisting and turning their waist for hours on end. They were almost flat, in a way, reminding me of gills on a fish—I found Devon’s ab muscles much more attractive than the bulging bubble-abs of every other guy in the world.

True to my description of him, his torso was short, stocky, shoulders wider than his waist, winding down in a cut-fashion, making his hips seem even more exotic. The dips in his collarbones were impressive, the fat chiseled and worn-down by years of weight lifting. His skin color was an equal mixture of tan and pale, which was way prettier than my stupid sheet white vampire complexion.

Seven seconds passed; Devon finally figured out the maze of his sweatshirt and managed to pull it over his head. A long moment later, I tore my eyes away from the scene, all too aware that my cheeks were burning just like my finger had been burning hours after I handed Devon his stupid water bottle.

I guess...since shirtless Patrick Swayze was how I found out I was gay…it makes sense that seeing Devon shirtless would be how I found out I was attracted to him.

It’s okay, I nervously ranted, moving my body so that I would no longer be able to see Devon’s reflection; my eyes weren’t even processing my own reflection. He’s just used to stripping like this because he usually rolls around half-naked on mats with other half-naked guys in front of other creepy people watching them roll around with each other. Yup. He’s not occupied with your silent freak-out. Probably. He thinks everyone loves him already, so what’s the difference if some emo punk thinks the same thing?

The black streak in the mirror caught my eye; the eyeliner pencil was dangling in my limp fingers, no longer drawing across my cheek but in danger of falling back onto the floor. I stopped breathing so hard, zoned-in on the black mark as another furious wave of anger coursed through my body—are you fucking with me? Is that what I THINK it is? RIGHT ACROSS my motherfucking CHEEK?

“S-Shit.”

Devon gave me a curious glance as he buttoned his jeans; I practically dove over to the sink, my curse having come out shakier than I wanted it to, not even close to recovery mode yet. Relax Jamie, relax! JUST RELAX! I screamed at myself, aggressively rubbing the eyeliner off my cheek. If Devon commented on it, I might have skipped school and died underneath my bed. Gerard would eat my body before it had time to decompose, my mom would cry, and that would be the end.

I closed my eyes to avoid seeing his judgmental gaze. Okay, so what? I have a crush on this stupid wrestler? Is that the problem? I wondered, though, judging on my heart rate, the answer was painfully simple. I’ve had crushes before…I think…none in recent years, but there’s nothing different between junior high and high school, is there?

“I’ll try to cover for you.”

Devon’s voice alerted my senses, and I opened my eyes to see him standing quietly by the door, holding his Hello Kitty pajama pants.

“O-Okay,” I forced, swallowing as I kept the paper towel against my black-stained cheek. “Thanks.”

“See you around,” He smiled.

Again with the promise of seeing him later? Why dangle hope if you’re just going to throw it away?!

I stared after Devon as he exited the bathroom; I wanted to ask him if he really did mean what he said, about not judging me because I wear eyeliner. I wanted to ask how long he had been wrestling, why he liked it, if he wanted to keep doing it. I wanted to ask if he knew my name, and if so, how?

I asked none of these questions but found out part of the answer to the last one when Devon was walking away from his locker later in the day; he spotted me staring at him, offered me a smile and said “Hey Jamie.”

That Saturday, I helped do concessions for the state wrestling tournament. It was a busy day, and I spent most of it making popcorn, cleaning tables and trying to listen to the hundreds of people discussing what had already taken place, who had won, who had lost, etc. etc. My crush on Devon had only grown after that incident in the bathroom. I would find myself in the middle of a geometry question when suddenly, I would wonder how Devon was doing on his assignment, if he was done, if he had trouble at all. When I realized that I literally knew nothing about the kid, I wondered if I should have been asking around to get some information; that would not have ended well, so I decided to keep my feelings to myself, in hopes of keeping things between Devon and I peaceful.

I guess you already know why I signed-up for concessions on Saturday.

“Devon made it through the fourth round.”

“Yay!!!” The other girl gasped. I found it unbelievable that I ended-up working with the exact same obnoxious girls as last time. “I hope he does good!”

I hope he does ‘well,’ I corrected, trying to ease my own nerves.

“Well he’s already done better than everyone thought he would. Even if he doesn’t get very far, that’s still really good, for a sophomore.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot he’s only a sophomore! That’s so lit!”

I needed to escape their mindless conversation, but I didn’t move because my own thoughts concerning Devon consumed me, like they so often did during the past week. This is his first state tournament, I remembered. That’s what I heard his teammates say…I wonder if he’s nervous. He doesn’t seem like the type that gets nervous, but maybe he gets a little jittery before his matches. Maybe I should go check on him. The uniform covers his chest, so I should be okay. Although that does leave me to be a victim of his toned, athletic arms…damnit.

Shaking that image from my head, I hurriedly bagged thirty bags of popcorn then rushed through the crowd of people to sneak into the arena center where two wrestlers, neither of who were Devon, were just leaving the mat. I scanned the area desperately, trying to find any sign that he was here; after looking through a small area of athletes, my eyes caught sight of the large jumbo screen in the middle of the arena.

FINAL ROUND, 160 LBS.

(6)DEVON AINSLEY, RRHS

vs.

(1)ANTON TRESSLER, BHS

Final round… I repeated silently. Does that mean Devon made it to the championship?

“Jamie!” Our advisor yelled from somewhere behind me. “Can you come wipe these tables?”

Just as I began to turn around, I saw him—Devon was stretching in a small corner of the arena, wearing his black school tracksuit with his headphones tightly tucked into his ears. His coach was standing a few feet away, talking to another coach. He was a long ways away, so I couldn’t really see his face, but I could tell he was focusing; the tracksuit suited his body well, accenting his shoulders and those short little legs very precisely. I couldn’t help but be enchanted by the aura he was giving off; even from this far away, I could just tell how excited he felt. I could feel the intensity of his movements, the gears turning in his brain.

“Jamie, are you coming?”

“Yeah,” I hollered back.

Reluctantly, I started to walk away from the opening, hoping that Devon could somehow hear my quiet whisper of “good luck” from across the stadium.

Unfortunately, I was kept extremely busy for the remainder of the day. I knew the championship rounds started after eleven, but when I managed to sneak a look at the clock, I was anxious to find it was already 11:30. I didn’t know what order they went by, I wasn’t quite sure if Devon was even in the championship, I wasn’t sure if he was nervous or not, and I wasn’t sure if I put butter in the last batch of popcorn I made. When the clock hit one-thirty and the crowd began to disperse and exit through the front doors, I knew it was over. As much as I wanted to sprint out into the stadium and ask someone who won, I also didn’t want to feel the wrath of our advisor, who was increasingly stressed by the end of the day; I decided the results could wait until I had disinfected the dining tables.

It would be so sick if Devon won, I thought, rushing to finish the last three tables. Not that I give a damn about sports, but then I would have an excuse to talk to him, and plus, that would just be super cool to win a state championship as a sophomore. I mean, to other athletic lovers that would be cool…but I don’t really care.

“Mrs. Hall, I’m finished with the tables. I’m gunna take off,” I said, throwing the rag into the sink while grabbing my jacket.

Our advisor paused, staring at me for a minute before giving a rushed, loose smile.

“Okay! Thanks for helping out, Jamie. You’re a lifesaver.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I gave her a pained smile in return and bolted out of the stand, towards the arena. When I made it, the place was practically empty; there were a few groups of people in the stands and a few teams waiting around for something, but other than that, no one. Devon was nowhere in sight. I craned my head up to look at the jumbo screen, hoping it would have the results of Devon’s fight.

FINAL TEAM RESULTS:

BHS—95

RRHS—90

KHS—88

“You didn’t miss much.”

I glanced over to see who had spoken, only to be thunder-struck by the sudden appearance of Devon Ainsley himself, who was strolling towards me with a nice, but slightly bitter smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t get to see,” I replied, trying to compose myself as he stopped in front of me. Too close, too close! “Were you in the championship?”

Devon nodded, glancing up at the large screen.

“Yup,” He exhaled deeply. “If I would have won, our team probably would have won, too.”

Disappointment didn’t suit Devon at all, so I tried putting a stop to it, even though I was slightly distracted by the way his hair looked after a shower and the way the t-shirt underneath his tracksuit stuck to his body in certain places, and how he smelled li—

“Well…I know nothing about wrestling,” I shrugged, causing him to look over at me. “I don’t know about any sport, really, but I think second place is pretty impressive. You know…for a shrimpy sophomore like you.”

Shrimpy?! Devon’s anything but shrimpy, you idiot.

My worries faded away when Devon grinned at me proudly, straightening his posture. “That’s true,” He agreed happily. “No one even expected me to be in the championship, so I guess I am pretty impressive.”

I let out a breathy laugh, flustered by the gaze he was holding with me.

“You know, we’ve never actually met,” Devon continued. “Officially met, at least; I’m Devon Ainsley.”

“Jamie Fisker.”

We shook hands, and if Devon was disturbed by the cold, soft texture of mine, he didn’t show it. His handshake was firm, which is to be expected, because I was holding back, not wanting to touch his hand again in fear of myself blushing over how my fingertips tingled when against his. Still, I found myself reluctant to pull my hand back once we finished. Before I could start a conversation, Devon did.

“Hey—can I ask you for a favor, Jamie Fisker of homeroom 156?” He asked with a smile. Like I could resist that…

“Sure.”

“I was gone yesterday, because of the wrestling, you know, so I missed the geometry lesson. Everyone said it’s the hardest lesson of the year, and I don’t know if that was a lie or not, but I’m worried about it,” Devon said, true to his word, looking frightened over the idea of difficult geometry. “You’re smart, so would you mind teaching it to me like, tomorrow, or something?”

“What makes you think I know how to do it?”

“I don’t know,” He shrugged, breaking into a smile for reasons unknown. “You’re always done with your assignment before me, so I just figured you know your way around.”

I stared at him in amazement, wondering how the tables had been turned so quickly. Before I knew what was happening, I agreed.

“Sounds good.”

~~*~~

On Sunday, I accidently dressed-up. I honest to God didn’t mean to; I forced myself to wake-up at eight in the morning, since Devon and I had failed to give our study session an exact time, but by the time ten-thirty rolled around, I still wasn’t out of bed and I had missed church. When my mom returned, she found me modeling jogger sweatpants and one of my new MCR sweatshirts in my mirror. It was her comment that unintentionally caused me to overdress.

“You got dressed?” She asked in surprise, startling me by stomping right into my room. “What for?”

“One of my classmates is coming over because they missed an important math lesson,” I said hurriedly, purposely keeping Devon’s identity a secret.

My mom looked me up and down, scrunching her eyebrows together.

“And that’s what you’re going to wear? In front of one of your friends?”

I looked up at her, mouth hovering open. Is it really that unacceptable? Sweatpants? My Chemical Romance? I don’t look trashy, do I? I’m still wearing eyeliner…that’s not THAT trashy…

“Anyway, I’m going to be out until dinner time, so don’t light the house on fire, don’t spill on the carpet and make Gerard guard the front door. Wouldn’t want you to get scared by the UPS man again, right?”

My mom exited the room, leaving me standing alone, contemplating my insignificance in the world. After that, things got very out of control. By the time twelve-thirty came around and Devon (I hoped) was knocking on the front door, I found myself wearing black skinny jeans, a grey, baggy Freddie Mercury t-shirt and a red plaid over that. For me, that’s about as dressed up as I ever get. Gerard shot into my room at the sound of the knocking, leaving me to face my crush alone. I swung the door open, my chest tightening immediately at the sight of a very casual Devon, who grinned at me sweetly.

“Hey. We never decided what time to meet up, so I just thought I’d pop in and see if now was a good time.”

“Yeah,” I basically squeaked. “Now’s good.”

Unable to put myself through any more torture, I wordlessly motioned Devon inside, watching him from underneath my eyelashes as he kicked his shoes off, eyeing the interior of my house. Although my mind was anxious as hell, my body was unusually relaxed. I tried to use this to gain some confidence as I led Devon into the kitchen.

Is this some kind of stupid, unrealistically-coincidental romance movie? I wondered, watching as Devon flipped through his geometry textbook. What are the chances that my mom would be gone today? It’s creepy. Now I’m going to be thinking about that the entire time.

“Where should we start?”

“Oh,” I said stupidly, shaking myself awake. “Umm…I don’t know. Where do you wanna start?”

Devon grinned at me again. How was I supposed to be able to focus when he kept assaulting me like that?

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you, since you’ve done this lesson before.”

He laughed in amusement as I took a moment to realize my mistake. I couldn’t help but give a smile in return, and that seemed to loosen me up a little bit.

“Before we start, can I ask you some stuff about wrestling?”

“Shoot.”

“What kind of training do you do to get into that kind of shape?”

(It may or may not have been a self-indulgent question.)

“Mostly weight-lifting,” Devon said, excited at the new topic. “And I have to follow a special diet and everything, which isn’t as horrible as I thought it would be, but it’s still pretty annoying.”

“A diet…” I repeated blankly, horrified by the idea of going on a special diet. “I think I would die.”

Devon laughed at my seriousness, his adorable giggles even getting me to laugh at myself.

“Seriously,” I continued. “I don’t think I could ever go on a special diet. It would change my body too much.”

“Well, that’s kind of the point, Jamie,” He smiled.

“Are you going to keep moving-up in weight classes?” I asked suddenly.

Devon can’t change his body, I thought in worry. He’s beautiful the way he is. He won’t change weight classes if he was so close to winning this year, would he? I mean…he’ll still be good looking no matter how much he weighs, but…does he really have to change so drastically?

Devon looked at me curiously, cocking his head to the side as he twirled a pencil around.

“I don’t think so; this is a good weight for me. Since I was so close to winning this year, it wouldn’t make sense for me to change.”

You’re right! I silently replied. On the outside, I gave a short, understanding nod, then cleared my throat and turned back to the homework.

“Alright…let’s get started.”

“Yes sir!”

I tried to ignore the way Devon scooted his stool closer to me, but it was pretty much impossible.

For the next forty-five minutes, I taught Devon through the geometry assignment, explaining all the rules and helping him with the difficult problems (there were a lot of them). Weirdly enough, the entire time we were working, we weren’t really…well…working. It seemed like there was another reason we were here, but neither of us said it out-loud. Devon did the homework just fine, and I taught him as well as I was able, but…everything just felt like a distraction. Distraction from what, I knew very well. Did I confront it? Absolutely not.

That must be why Devon decided to take hold of the reins.

I really hadn’t been expecting it. I was just sitting beside him, a good seven inches away, minding my own business by wondering if he was really upset that he lost yesterday. He did seem disappointed, naturally, but I wondered if he cried himself to sleep over it. That made me sad, so I tried to theorize that he was tougher than I thought him to be and only became more determined by his loss, rather than discouraged. I had just started to organize a few more questions when IT happened.

Something warm had laid itself over my hand; I had an idea of what it was right away but couldn’t bring myself to believe it. And so, I tore my eyes away from the wall I was staring at and looked down, recognizing the object as Devon’s hand.

Holy shit.

“What?”

It took me five-seconds to realize that Devon had spoken. It took me another three-seconds to look up at him and realize he looked a little frightened.

“Huh?”

“You said ‘holy shit.’” He repeated.

I said that…I said that…out…out-LOUD?

“No I didn’t…” I tried, hardly hearing my own voice.

“Yeah, um…you kinda did…”

“Oh…”

I’m not sure why, but apparently, my instinct to embarrassment and shock is to grab onto something. On this occasion, that something was Devon’s hand. Now my hand was on top of his, and it was Devon’s turn to be so surprised he couldn’t speak. When his eyes moved down to our entwined hands, nearly bulging out of their sockets, I suddenly came back to reality:

Devon touched my hand, I thought clearly, looking from our hands to his face. Devon touched my hand! He reached for it! This is happening RIGHT NOW! He touched my hand! Now I’m touching HIS hand! What do we do? What does this mean?

“Do you—” I started, mouth going dry. Devon’s wide eyes looked at me, and it became even harder to form sentences. “Do you…you’re—uh…you—you like m-me?”

Blush swept over Devon’s cheeks, making me blush equally. His mouth moved, opening, then closing, opening, then closing. He held it open for a record of three-seconds, but just before a small noise could escape his lips, my egotistic, fluffy, flat-faced, white-haired cat Gerard jumped up onto the island, startling both of us. The appearance of another being seemed to relax Devon.

“So this is your infamous cat!” He said, letting go of my hand in favor of reaching over to pet Gerard and protect himself in the case of an attack. “What’s her name?”

“Gerard.”

“Cool,” He nodded, giving a little smile.

I finally allowed my shoulders to release a little tension, seeing that Devon was distracted from the incident. My hand felt colder than ever, but my mind slowly drifted away from the topic when it noticed how nice Gerard was being to Devon. He was petting her without any problems; in fact…it sounded like she was…purring.

“Did you seriously manage to get her to fucking purr?”

Devon looked over and grinned.

“Well, animals do love my company,” He joked. “Does she never purr for you?”

“Not even on her good days,” I scoffed lightly, reaching out my hand to her, which she only stared at me for doing. “She pokes me with her nails, mostly. Sometimes she’ll lie beside me, but only if it’s convenient for her.”

“Well, can you really blame her, Jamie?”

I smiled, rolling my eyes as Devon laughed, rubbing right underneath Gerard’s ear, making her close her eyes in comfort. Jamie. Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…

“I like when you say my name,” I commented quietly. Devon glanced over, looking at me slowly. “And I definitely like it when you put my cat in a good mood.”

I reached over and scratched the other side of Gerard’s cheek, making her bend a body in a weird position in order to receive attention on both sides. Devon was quiet for a moment, allowing us to be silently distracted—I wondered if Gerard had been eavesdropping on our conversation. She’s done that before, when my mom was on the phone with her boss or someone else she didn’t like. What I didn’t understand was why she chose to interrupt a nice moment. The bastard must just like annoying me.

“Well…” Devon said softly, as if he was contemplating his words. He smiled as I looked over. “I guess you’ll have to invite me over more often, then.”

~~*~~

I had a crush on the sophomore class’ favorite boy toy, Devon Ainsley, who placed second at the state wrestling tournament and just so happened to have a crush on me as well. Go figure. Over the course of two weeks, Devon came to my house four times; I even went to his once, but since we were continuously harassed by his three younger siblings, he decided, if it was okay with me, that whenever we met up it should be at my house. That was both relieving and disappointing—Devon’s loft in the attic was really cool, I liked it a lot, but having so many people in the house was overwhelming for me, as an only child. Even after the “hand incident,” things were never awkward between us. Okay…sometimes things were awkward, but nothing too serious. We were two very different people, I soon found out. One of the most shocking similarities I was happy to learn about was the fact that Devon liked piercings.

We were at my house one day, in my room listening to music and looking through my bookshelf when Devon noticed the small line of bellybutton rings on the dresser.

“You have a piercing?” He said, jumping up to investigate. His announcement was too loud for my taste. “Where is it at?”

Before I could answer, Devon’s hand froze in mid-air, inches away from touching one of the charms.

“Wait… it isn’t…” He glanced over at me in horror. “It isn’t somewhere…bad, is it?”

“Ew! No!” I cried, trying to get those images out of my head. I lowered my voice and glanced over my shoulder before whispering “They’re for my bellybutton.”

Devon’s face lit-up, and he looked down at my stomach before jumping excitedly a few times.

“Can I see, can I see?!”

“Well if you’re gunna whine about it…”

I peeked over my shoulder again, even though the door was closed; ensuring that my mom was nowhere near us, I lifted my shirt up, surprisingly unashamed or shy about showing Devon, who could quite possibly be my boyfriend someday, my bellybutton ring. Devon leaned down for a better look, examining my simple, shiny crystal bellybutton ring; he seemed to be in-awe, which was strange; if he was in-awe of something so small, I wondered what I would have been considered as when I saw Devon with his shirt off for the first time.

“Woahhhhhhh…that is so cool,” He praised, making me bite my lip, as if that would prevent me from blushing madly. “I’ve always wanted a piercing, but I don’t know where I would get one. I don’t think I’d look good with earrings.” Devon looked-up at me curiously. “Did it hurt?”

“No.” I said shortly.

He raised an amused eyebrow, “Just ‘no’? What, is your pain tolerance so high that it basically doesn’t exist?”

“Yes,” I said seriously. “I’m a vampire.”

We laughed loudly, which must have drawn the attention of my mom, who I heard shuffling around in the hallway. I quickly pulled my shirt down and tugged Devon upwards; he gave me a questioning look, then glanced at the door as my mom passed by.

“Does your mom not know?” He whispered with a disbelieving grin.

“Yes, and I’d like to keep it that way,” I said, pushing the charms together to place them in a small, hidden box. “You’re the only other person who knows, besides me, so if she were to find out, I’d—”

“You’d what?” Devon challenged.

I stopped what I was doing to look over at his enchanting smile. I figured it was safer to do it on my own watch, rather than on his, which would cause my hands to go limp and drop the charms all over the place.

“You’d fight me, is that what you’re saying, Jamie?”

“Um…” I swallowed nervously. “Yes?”

“Well I hate to break it to you, buddy, but I would win,” He said, crossing his arms over his chest. (His wonderful, chiseled chest.)

“No you wouldn’t,” I claimed, doing the same thing. “I’m a vampire. As soon as you pinned me, I could just dive in and suck your blood.”

“Jamie,” My mom called as she walked by, making me jump out of my skin. “Don’t say the word ‘suck.’ It’s not nice.”

Devon burst-out laughing as I lowered my head in defeat.

“You swear all the time,” He wheezed, hanging onto me as he tried to recover. “And she yells at you for saying the word ‘suck’! That’s hilarious!!!”

Although there are only three people in my house, it’s safe to say that all three of those people manage to embarrass me in some way, shape or form. Most of the time, it’s me. The other times it’s Gerard. After that day, I guess my mom decided to join in on the fun.

One weekend, I woke-up to the sound of someone knocking on the front door; it’s too early for this, I thought groggily, dragging myself out of my warm, tangled sheets. It’s ten. It’s way too early for anyone to be up. Even Gerard’s not up yet.

I hoped the person would be gone by the time I made it to the door, but I was disappointed to hear them shuffling around outside. After letting out a deep sigh, trying to mentally prepare myself for the brightness about to scorch my pupils (I keep my room dark, like a vampire should), I unlocked the door and pulled it open.

“Devon?” I asked, rubbing my eye.

“Hey…” He said slowly, not looking away from me. “Sorry it’s so early, vampire boy, but I was up, so I thought I would surprise you.” Devon paused for some reason as I tried to adjust to the light. “Did you…did you have breakfast yet?”

“No,” I mumbled. “Come in.”

The appearance of Devon made me wake-up a little quicker, but not much. I blinked and blinked, taking in more of him every time; when the fuzz on my brain started to blow away, I suddenly realized that Devon’s eyes were looking right back at mine, unmoving, unaffected by what he was trying to do with his jacket. It made me freeze, which wasn’t hard, considering how slow I was moving.

“What?” I grumbled at him. “Do I have lines on my face?”

“No,” Devon said quickly, missing the coat hanger by a foot. “It’s nothing…I’m just happy to see you,” He covered-up, giving me a sincere smile.

My vampire-self could not comprehend how touching that compliment was.

“Okay,” I shrugged, tiredly dragging myself forward. “There’s stuff in the fridge if you want breakfast. I’m going back to bed.”

Devon giggled at something, but didn’t go into the kitchen, instead choosing to follow me into my bedroom. I let him in first, seeing that Gerard was up and sprawled-out on my pillow. I figured I’d let Devon be the first person she saw, since waking-up to me always puts her in a bad mood. As I closed the door, absentmindedly listening to Devon baby talk my cat, my eyes drifted over the mirror, and I suddenly realized, with horror, why he had been staring at me earlier.

Since it was a weekend, and Devon and I had hung-out all week, I figured he wouldn’t be coming over today, and therefore, I had not reapplied my eyeliner. Me without eyeliner is like…Dracula without three, super-sexy vampire women surrounding him day-in and day-out.

I tried not to make it so obvious that I had realized my nakedness, but when I slyly checked to see if Devon had noticed, I found he was already staring at me; he caught my expression, and his changed from admiration to curiosity.

“What’s up?” He asked.

I shifted and grabbed at my pajama pants in agitation, silently panicking. It was too late; Devon had already seen me. That was why he had been staring at me when he first came inside. What do I do? I asked myself, standing there in silence. What do I—

“I’ll do it for you.”

Devon’s voice interrupted my anxiety attack. I looked at him immediately, wondering what he meant. He gave Gerard a pat, then stood up, giving me a timid smile.

“Your eyeliner. Can I do it for you?”

I blinked, and apparently, that was a good enough answer for him.

“Where do you keep it? In here?”

I watched in silence as Devon snuck into my bathroom; he emerged with an eyeliner pencil, uncapping it with fascination. I continued to stand by the door, stupidly unaware of what just happened and what was currently happening. It wasn’t until Devon settled himself in the middle of the bed, propped-up on his knees that I realized what I had agreed to.

“Come on!” He encouraged.

I went over, kneeling in front of him, and for the next five-minutes, Devon Ainsley applied my eyeliner.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” I asked, my eye twitching as he finished the bottom line.

“Mostly,” Devon answered. I was so glad I got to be his test subject; it allowed me to be close to his face, and I had the honor of seeing his focused expression up-close. “I watched you do it that one morning. Remember?”

I almost widened my eyes at this reveal, but managed to keep myself composed. Devon was watching me?

“You’re really slow,” I commented.

“Well, I’m not an expert,” He replied, slowly sliding the pencil across my upper eyelid. “You do it too fast, anyway. You should be more careful. Eyes are sensitive.”

“I guess,” I said quietly. “You’re a lot gentler than I am…”

Devon didn’t comment, too excited as he finished, sitting back on his legs to look over his work. A small smile spread across his face; we locked eyes, prompting him to lean right, so I could see my reflection in the mirror.

“How does it look?”

I stared at the image across from us, amazed at how…me I looked. This was much better than my nakedness. There were a few smudges here and there, from where Devon tried to correct his mistakes, but I liked them. They made me look even more crafty.

“It’s good,” I said. “Much better this way…”

“For the record, you’re just as handsome without it. A different kind of handsome, but still handsome.”

“Whatever,” I shrugged, trying to hide my tiny smile as I leaned back down on my knees.

Devon and I sat there for a moment, him looking at me, me trying not to look at him, but failing. He looked so…hypnotized. I was interested to know why. Was he silently comparing the naked me to the eyeliner me? Was he regretting what he said about me being handsome both ways?

The silence continued, and I realized that Gerard was gone.

“Are you proud of me?” Devon asked softly, in reference to his makeup work.

“Um…yeah,” I nodded, unable to look away. “Yeah; I am.”

“Were you proud of how I wrestled at state?”

My confusion went away immediately. I wanted Devon to know the truth, without me hesitating for even a second.

“Yes.” I confirmed quietly.

He paused, still locking eyes with me. His knees scooted forward, touching mine ever-so-slightly; the energy in the room froze, hanging on the moment. No one knew what was coming next—no one except for Devon. I heard him breathe through his nose, and he released another question; a gentle, anxious, but confident question.

“Would you be proud to be my boyfriend someday?”

“Yes,” I exhaled heavily. “Yes, I would.”

Devon leaned forward and crashed our lips together.

It was a hard kiss, but not a bad one. The connection was quick, abrupt, but none-the-less sweet, tender. I didn’t move an inch, afraid that if I did, Devon would stop, or I would wake-up and realize that this was all a dream. A perfect, beautiful, vampire-free dream. If you can believe it, I had never thought about Devon’s lips before. I thought about his muscles and stuff, and his eyes, and his smile, but never his lips. They were picked-at in some places, warm and sweetened; I don’t think my heart has ever beaten so fast before, not even when I found Gerard staring at me from the corner of my room at three in the morning.

Devon pulled back after a few very long seconds. And then, his phone rang.

We stared at each other, eyes blown, mouths hovering open, desperate to supply our breathless lungs with air. Everything inside me was fluttering around, making my chest itch and tickle. Judging by his appearance, Devon felt the same way. The ringing noise went unnoticed for a full fifteen-seconds. I didn’t worry about my morning breath until hours later. Devon gave me another hard peck on the lips before reaching into his jeans and pulling out his phone, as if it would be the last time he ever got to kiss me.

“Yeah?” He said blankly, desperately maintaining eye-contact with me as I sat across from him, trying hard not to cry with happiness. Why did it feel so special? When we broke apart, why was I so overwhelmed with want? Why was I so scared to see him back away? “Okay…y-yeah, I can make it. Yeah…okay…yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry…mhm, see you then.”

When Devon hung-up, I was still trying to catch my breath. His phone fell onto the bed with a thump. We didn’t care. Every object in the entire house was useless, unnecessary to us. I suddenly became very aware of the fact that my mom was working today; it’s not like I was going to devour Devon seconds after our first kiss, but it was just comforting to know that this moment had been just between us. No one else. Just the two of us.

(And, I guess, that bastard cat Gerard, who was probably watching from underneath some piece of furniture.)

We looked at each other, Devon in fear, me in adoration; I could bear the space no longer. I dove forward, laughing lightly as I buried my head into his shoulder, hugging him as hard as I could. I had never been happier to be so warm, so close to Devon. He was solid, reassuring, certain in my arms. I tried to care about when I had started to care about him so much, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t care; not when we were here, together, stuck in this moment.

“Wanna come to a wrestling scrimmage next month?” He asked, joining me as we laughed, both in modesty and cheerfulness.

“Okay,” I nodded, reluctantly leaning away from him. “Um…I’d better…get dressed.”

I slid off the bed, only for Devon to stop me, grabbing onto my arm. He was grinning, now.

“You have to promise that you’ll be my boyfriend someday.”

I smiled back, not letting myself wonder how I had gotten so lucky.

“Only if that someday is right now.”

~~*~~

So…Devon and I were dating. I was pretty sure my mom already knew, but she said nothing, nor did anyone at school when a random emo kid started hanging out with the famous wrestler at lunch time and in between classes. They didn’t say anything to our faces, at least; there were a lot of stares and whispers, but since I can never pay any attention to anyone other than Devon because of my raging homosexuality, I never noticed. We lived in our own little world for the next few weeks, sneaking around and slyly furthering our relationship behind closed doors—whenever we stole kisses and snuck a touch or two into our dance, I always found myself wondering how pissed my dad would be if he ever found out about my current relationship status.

But how could I care about what that homophobic bastard thought when I had Devon pinned down on my bed, pressing my lips against his like there was no tomorrow?

It was the night before Devon’s wrestling scrimmage (just to keep in shape, he said) when we were intimate for the first time; while we had yet to get past the awkward stage of discussing the “bases,” it was pretty clear that we wouldn’t be going very far at all, since we were just some stupid horny teenagers whose closeted tendencies caused a lot of sexual tension in desperate need of being resolved. If things got out of control, or someone felt uncomfortable, we agreed that running out of the room was a good option until we calmed down. I had no fucking idea what I was doing with my hips, but Devon’s soft pants against my lips made my heart flutter, and so, I continued moving them against his lower abdomen, praying Gerard didn’t interrupt us or somehow dial 9-1-1 to get my mom to come home…

“Ha…ah,” Devon whimpered, strong hands grabbing onto my clothed waist. I thought it was funny how innocent that positioning was, given how I was trying to get him off by rubbing our groins together over our sweatpants. “Ja…mie…”

“I don’t know…what…what I’m doing,” I huffed against his cheek, eyes fluttering closed from focus. I liked him a bit too much.

“Feels—ah…good…”

I pressed the rest of my chest onto Devon’s, forcing a groan out of him as the tents in our pants were forced completely against each other; our of pure instinct I began rocking myself faster, going along with his desperate thrusts from below, trying to get us even closer. How did we end up in this position, anyway? I wondered at the wrong time, desperately wanting to see Devon’s pretty eyes again. He looked way too attractive all blushing and sweaty, cheeks tainted red and mouth hanging open loosely, soft moans spilling out without shame as our cocks leaked beneath our sweatpants. I didn’t give a damn how I looked, couldn’t care about what my father might say, couldn’t care less about how my eyeliner was smudging from the moisture in the air, couldn’t care about anything but how we were making each other feel. The mere realization of us being alone in my bedroom, grinding lovingly on top of my bed while my guardian was out pushed me closer to the edge, way too aesthetically pleasing for me to handle.

“D-Devon,” I gasped, a jolt shooting through my stomach. “More, please.”

“You’re…too good,” He whispered back, giving a hard thrust upwards as I roughly grinded down. “Ahh…Jamie…”

Those thick, strong arms pulled me as close as humanly possible, forcing me to bury my head into Devon’s neck and wail while the pleasure in our guts suddenly exploded. The outburst took me by surprise, because while I had jacked-off to this idea before, to actually do something so intimate with the guy I was pining after and falling for…yeah. It felt way fucking better with Devon.

“Ah, ahh!!!” I wailed, body jerking against Devon’s wildly. He grunted in response, holding me against him as we thrashed from the agonizing pleasure, cum spurting out from our rubbed raw cocks and seeping into the fabric separating our groins.

“Jamie, Jamie!” My crush called frantically, music to my ears.

Despite the haze covering our minds, every little detail was clear to me; the way we stayed together even when instinct told us to run away from the euphoria, how Devon’s whimpers resembled my name every fucking time more cum dribbled out between us, how I couldn’t stop my shaking hips from moving, wanting him to feel as good as possible, the way I grabbed onto the bedsheets beneath us to keep myself from clawing Devon’s perfect skin…that’s the only way I can think to describe our first sexual adventure. Perfect. Once I was sure we had pushed our orgasm as far as it could go, my exhausted hips fell against Devon’s limply, accidentally sending another shiver through our lower abdomens while we attempted catching back up with our breathing. The house was utterly quiet behind the huffs of air coming from my bedroom, and I had never been so happy to be an only child, even if the result ended in us both ruining two perfectly good pairs of underwear. I guess we were dorky enough where we felt ready to try something intense, but not so intense where we could see or actually touch each other.

“I won’t hear my name the same way ever again,” I panted over a laugh, getting a giggle out of Devon below me.

“That…That was great,” He added sweetly, releasing his tight hold to run a hand over my bare arm. “But…your eyeliner’s all smudged.”

“Worth it.”

“I don’t know if the ruining of the underwear was worth it, though—these are my favorite ones!”

“The fucking Pikachu ones?”

“Duh.”

We’re such losers, I laughed silently to myself as we awkwardly separated, being careful of the mess in our pants. Only we could be so clumsily uncomfortable while still throwing out stupid comments after getting each other off…

“You can, um…use the bathroom first,” I offered, sitting up and cringing at the sensation under my pants.

“Ah—right. I’ll just…go clean up.”

Devon grabbed his overnight bag and hurried into my bathroom, rummaging around as I continued sitting on the edge of my bed like some noob, trying not to smile like an idiot even though I was really happy. Father’s be damned, I thought in triumph. Gay sex with your boyfriend is way cooler than pining after some girl.

“Jamie!” My mother’s voice called out. I almost pissed my pants and looked at my door in fear, hearing her footsteps come closer. “I’m hommmme!”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck—

“There you are!” She said, standing in my doorway just as Gerard came trotting back in. I glared at him while simultaneously holding a pillow over my crotch, hoping it didn’t look as suspicious as I thought it did. If that little fucker told on us and got me grounded forever… “Is Devon here? I thought I saw his shoes in the entryway.”

“Y-Yeah, he’s, um…in the bathroom.” Nailed it. Jeez, my underwear are so sticky…I need to squirm around or something…

“Did you boys eat, yet?”

“Yup. We’re good. Thanks.”

“Does Devon have a scrimmage tomorrow? Are you going to watch?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure you can wake-up that early?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll be fine,” I insisted, hiding a cringe as more evidence of me and Devon’s activity smeared over my thighs. “Thanks.”

“Alright then, I’ll leave you boys alone to study,” My mom said brightly, honestly believing that’s what we had been doing while she was gone. If only I could explain how being a horny teenage boy works to her… “Goodnight! Tell Devon I said goodnight, too.”

“Will do. Goodnight.”

The second my mom left I released a deep sigh, turning to look at a much too innocent looking Devon as he creeped out of the bathroom with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Shut up.”

Devon had the audacity to giggle as Gerard meowed at us, sniffing the bed like he knew we had been up to something while he was off on tour; I tried hiding my blush when I uncomfortably waddled towards the bathroom, but Devon must have saw and thought it was cute, because he pressed a long kiss to my cheek before reminding me to wipe my eyeliner off before we went to sleep. I obeyed only because I’m a sucker for his Hello Kitty pajama pants.

Did things get a little awkward when we went to bed? Kinda. It’s weird sleeping next to someone after you’ve been so…close, for lack of better term, but once I saw Devon’s shoulders relax, I fell soundly asleep dreaming about his stupidly attractive scent and stupid wrestling team track suit. Social classes be damned—I was falling hard for this little punk, and I had many reasons to believe he felt the same way for me, starting with the way he kissed my head and whispered in the dark after I had fallen asleep.

“You’re the best, Jamie.”

~~~-~~~

Saturday morning was a bitch, but Gerard insisted I wake-up at the same time as Devon so we could head over to the gym together; as we walked to the school, Devon and I rotated between being stuck in our own little worlds and being stuck in each other’s own little worlds. Sometimes I would look over and grin at him, sometimes he would look over, and sometimes we just walked in silence, smiling to ourselves like there was no tomorrow.

“Sooo what do wrestlers do, exactly, during a scrimmage?” I asked as we entered the gym. Devon nudged me with his elbow and let out an amused laugh.

“I forgot you’re a wrestling virgin,” He commented. “You can go sit wherever and just watch…you’ll wait for me afterwards, right?”

“Of course!” I answered much too quickly.

Devon and I stopped walking to face each other. Just looking at him made me dizzy; being this close to him could have killed me right on the spot. I could still feel the lingering taste of his lips on mine, his hips rutting against mine like it happened only seconds ago, but that was a bad place to be mentally when the sophomore would soon be rolling around on a mat with half-naked guys. He stared at me for a moment, just watching, with a hint of a smile on his handsome, acne-scarred face.

“Well…good luck,” I whispered. I’m not sure why I was whispering. Probably because other people had entered the gym at this point.

“Don’t need it, but thanks,” Devon responded.

For some awkward, new-relationship reason, both of us started laughing. Devon walked away holding his stomach and I stumbled up the bleachers while trying not to trip. I made sure to sit in the darkest corner, in fear of someone seeing me and questioning my motives. I even put my hood up like a good little emo boy.

My life has taken a strange turn, I thought, waiting for Devon to emerge back into the gym. I’m at the school on a Saturday morning, waiting to watch my boyfriend compete in a wrestling scrimmage—whatever that is. Also, Devon kisses me. He actually kisses me a lot, now, and Gerard doesn’t interrupt. Just a month ago I was a loner whose only true friend was my rude cat. Now I’m…going out in public? With a boy who kissed me and came in his pants below me while moaning my name?

Another song began to play in my head.

Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

Caught in a landslide

No escape from reality 

When Devon entered the gym wearing a grey Pokémon t-shirt and black shorts that seemed a bit too short to be considered normal athletic shorts, for the first time in my life, I wasn’t too eager to escape from reality.

“Everyone stretch, and then we’ll get started,” One of the coaches announced.

The wrestlers all started to stretch, but I only had eyes for Devon; I watched him plop down beside one of his equally tiny friends and start talking to him. I liked watching him talk. He never spoke any differently to other people than he did to me, but there was just something about his easy going tone of voice that made me relaxed. Maybe that was because I knew his attention wasn’t focused on me.

Why? A voice suddenly asked.

So far, there are thousands of reasons why I like Devon. For starters, his striking, ecstatic, calming smile. There’s also his laid-back attitude that always makes you feel at ease, his gentle way of nudging your shoulder as you walk together, his passion for the odd sport of wrestling, and his determination to be better at everything he does…the list is endless. Handsome, friendly, kind, thoughtful, curious…what quality doesn’t Devon possess? I watched in silence as a few of the other wrestlers got into position in the middle of the mat. Devon and his friends were standing on the sidelines, cheering them on. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood. They were laughing and joking and having a fun time.

Meanwhile, I was stuck in a completely different world.

What does Devon see in ME?

I’m not friendly…I don’t have any talents or goals. I’m not sociable, I don’t like to put myself out there…those are all good qualities Devon has. I don’t do any of those things. Most people wouldn’t consider me handsome or consider me a human at all—I like hard rock and punk rock music, I dress in all-black, and I spend the weekends with my cat and my mom. I don’t NOT like exercise, but I don’t usually do it on a daily basis…

So what is it? I wondered. What does Devon see in me?

As I sat in my isolated corner, pondering over all my life choices, Devon and one of his friends were called to the mat. They had these nerdy head-guards on, but Devon pulled his off pretty well. I leaned forward, attention at the ready, though it didn’t distract me from my earlier thoughts. If anything, it increased their power.

While Devon rolled around on the mat with the other wrestler, I looked at him—really looked at him. Despite his shy tendencies, there was nothing about the kid that read timid; he was confident as hell. It wasn’t just in his mentality as a wrestler; as Devon continuously slipped out from his teammate’s grasp, I realized that his entire stance oozed confidence. It wasn’t a boasting, arrogant confidence, but a quiet, reassuring one. The same one I had felt when we kissed, and the same one I felt whenever I was around Devon.

I watched him do this awesome flipping move with his legs, and the next thing I knew, the other kid was pinned onto the mat. It looked like something from a Bruce Lee movie.

Confidence is confidence; Devon had it all figured out, while I was stuck in the dark.

In the midst of my hypnosis, I watched Devon win all three of his matches. They finished about an hour later, though I hardly realized; I remained sitting where I was, glued to my seat, trying to find at least one attractive quality about myself. (I was failing.)

A hand came down on my shoulder.

“Enjoying the show?”

I nearly jumped out of my seat upon hearing Devon’s voice. He laughed a little as I turned around, relaxing under his gaze.

“Ready to go?” He asked when I stiffly stood-up.

“Yeah.”

“You look tired. Was it really that boring?”

“No!” I said quickly, stopping at the top of the stairs. “You’re just…really good. You’re really good at wrestling, Devon.”

He stopped walking and looked-up, having to crane his neck even more than usual, being a few stairs below me.

“O-Oh, well…thanks,” Devon nodded shyly, a moment of weakness. “That means a lot coming from you.”

It does? I thought, heart-speeding up. It really means a lot to you? Do you really want me to be proud of you? Me?

Devon shook off his bashfulness and smiled, reaching out to take my hand in his. “Come on,” He said, pulling me along. “We need to get you home so you can take a nap. You slept okay last night, right?”

“For a while, yeah. I woke up at two like usual and stared at the ceiling until four,” I shrugged.

“Four?! Are you insane, Jamie?! How are you still standing?!”

“Well, you’re holding my hand, so I guess I’ve been rejuvenated.”

That made Devon blush and stutter over himself, much to my amusement. We made it outside, and by that time, we were laughing pretty hard. Is that what young couples do? Laugh about themselves? I try to do that to myself, just to ease the pain, but it usually doesn’t feel this…relieving.

“So I make you ‘rejuvenated,’ huh Jamie?” He said, more to himself than to me.

“I guess…”

“Well, the feeling is very mutual.”

I looked at him in-awe, noticing how the sun’s rays were giving off more of a golden tint than usual. It accented Devon’s hair nicely, and, if anything, made him appear even more amiable. As we walked, hand in hand, I pondered over my insecurities; it seemed that Devon wasn’t aware of all these differences between us. Either that, or he chose to ignore or embrace them…I couldn’t get a grip on any of the questions I wanted to ask, so I stuck to the basics, thinking that would help me feel worthy of Devon.

He was the one who kissed me, after all.

“Hey Devon,” I said quietly, gripping his hand tighter. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” He answered. “Ooo this is good! We should ask more questions so we can get to know each other better! How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Aww that’s co cute, Jamie!” Devon cooed, pinching one of my cheeks. “I didn’t know I was dating a younger guy!”

“Shut up!” I whined, though I was smiling.

“Haha! Oh, I’ve got another one: what’s your favorite color?”

Does vampire red count?

“Mm…midnight blue, I think. What’s yours?”

Devon answered instantly.

“Black.”

Our pace slowed on account of Devon zoning-out on the ground below us. I glanced over, surprised at his answer. Black? Shouldn’t that have been my answer? I thought. I mean…I guess our school colors have black in them, so that’s probably why…although I don’t know if that’s a good enough reason to like black all-around…

“Black? Really?” I questioned curiously. “Why’s that?”

Devon stopped walking now, bringing us to a halt. He looked at me seriously, making the breath leave my lungs. His eyes were locked on mine, but then slowly made their way over to the body parts as he named them.

“Because it’s the color of your hair…and your nails…and because it’s your most worn color…and—” Devon’s words got stuck in his throat, and he stopped, his eyes finding their way back to mine. “And because…” He whispered, finishing quietly. “It’s the color of your eyeliner.”

My mind was blank for a long second—and then, it all started to make sense.

“Your favorite color is black…because of me?” I asked.

Devon looked scared out of his mind as he gave a short nod. He didn’t blink or look away in embarrassment; he was waiting for something, waiting for me to react. Devon was just as scared as I was. When he had kissed me, he had been confident, but nervous at the same time. When he brought me to his house for the first time, he would smile in relief, and then look around anxiously, watching for my every reaction, though he probably didn’t realize it.

Devon was stuck in the dark just as much as I was. But he fought through it. He fought through it because he…liked me. He liked my hair, and my nails, and my clothing, and my eyeliner—he liked my eyeliner.

“J-Jamie?”

I reached into the pocket of my jacket, trying to find what I wanted. Devon waited in front of me anxiously, his expression turning confused when I pulled out an eyeliner pencil.

I smiled, holding it up between us.

“Do mine again on Monday?”

Devon paused, looked at the eyeliner, then grinned at me.

“Okay!”

I smiled happily, stepping even closer to him as I slipped the eyeliner away.

“Oh…and one more thing, Devon.”

“What is it?”

With my confidence soaring, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Devon’s warm lips. It wasn’t long, and it wasn’t short…but I think I got the meaning across just fine. I pulled back a few centimeters, opening my eyes; Devon still had his closed, but they blinked open a few seconds later to reveal his star-struck gaze. Our breath was gone again, just like last time.

“Hey Jamie?” He whispered, licking his lips to taste where I had just been. “I think you’d look really cool with a lip piercing. And…I really really like you.”

I gave out a huff of laughter, touching the corner of my lip.

“Yeah? …I bet my mom would really love that.”

“She probably won’t disown you,” Devon laughed, laying his head on my shoulder. I was pretty sure he had to be on the tips of his toes to accomplish the act. “But it’s your decision.”

I laughed again, for no logical reason.

“I think—I think she’d be happier about me really really liking you.” I admitted softly.

“You really like me?” He asked into my shoulder.

“No,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re super short and stocky and I don’t want to be with you because of it.”

Devon laughed louder, leaning back to grin up at me.

“I’m not that short. I could take you down in thirty-seconds, flat.”

“Need I remind you that I’m a vampire?”

“Whatever!” Devon cackled, leaning down. “Come on, Count Dracula; I’ll give you a piggyback ride to your house. The sun’s out, and I don’t want you to burn into ashes.”

“I’ll—burn you to ashes,” I mumbled, hopping onto his back. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?” He asked, turning to look at me as he straightened-up.

“N-Nothing, it’s just…” Don’t say it, don’t say it, Jamie! “You’re just…really good at wrestling.”

It took Devon a second; he tried to glance back at my bashful expression, then glanced down to where I was hanging onto his broad shoulders, which I could feel even though his jacket. Once he understood, he gave me a bright smile and leaned his head back towards mine.

“Ooo, Jamie likes my muscles, does he?”

“No.” I mumbled, hiding my blush in his shoulder.

“It’s okay to admit it, Jamie. Have you been admiring them from afar for many months, now?”

“I’m never going to answer that question.”

“You can touch them if you really want to, I don’t mind.” He teased. “Wouldn’t want you to be deprived of Devon Ainsley any longer.”

“Please stop talking.”

As Devon gave me a piggyback ride to my house, I didn’t really care why he liked me; I knew he would always tell me, even when I didn’t need to hear it. Maybe there would come a day where my dad saw me wearing eyeliner, and maybe my mom would find out that I have a bellybutton ring, but I wasn’t worried.

I liked myself, and Devon liked me too.

Until that time comes, I’m going to keep wearing black eyeliner, because I know Devon likes me with and without it, smeared or clean, straight or smudged.