Definitely Not Gay (Harringrove)

Shower

Billy

Sneakers squeak as everyone fights for the ball. Danny manages to writhe it free. He tosses it to me. I score.

The other team has the ball. More importantly, Steve has the ball. Do I try to steal it from him? Will that be awkward? What if I touch him on accident? God, this is so fucking stupid!

I decide to let him score. Maybe he'll get cocky, and we can go back to being competitive and forget all about this morning.

He shoves Norman, jumps, and... fucking misses.

God, Steve. You ruin everything.

~~~

Steve walks into the shower room as most kids leave.

"Man, Harrington, you suck!" Tommy says, draping his arm across his shoulders. "Like, you always suck, but today was... whew!"

Steve shoves him off, drops his clothes, and hits the the shower knob aggressively with his knuckles, making it spray him with the force of a tsunami. "Just got... things... on my mind."

My face burns. I know he's talking about me. But we didn't really fuck, did we? Maybe we just slept without the sex. We were naked, though. I adjust the water to be colder.

"See ya fellas in Kowalski's class," Tommy says, grabbing his bag and leaving.

Shit, just me and Steve.

I can't look in his eyes. But I also can't look... lower. He's right across from me so there isn't much else to look at. I'm forced to stare intently at the wall. Damn, I hate this.

"Your blonde model leave any souvenirs on your bed?" God, did I just say that?

"Ahh, her semen?" he asks, dryly.

Wow, Steve. Not making this easy, huh? "You told anyone?"

Steve angrily hits his shower knob to turn it off. "Who the fuck do you think I'm gonna tell, Hargrove? My girlfriend?"

"Wheeler's still your girlfriend? Damn. Thought she was with Byers now."

He pulls on boxers and jeans. "Aight. I think this is the part where I leave."

Shit, he can't go like this. I can't let the awkwardness continue.

"Wait," I blurt out, embarrassing myself with an unfamiliar needy tone. He looks at me, expectantly. I drop my voice to a whisper, trying to stay composed. "Stay away from me, Harrington. Don't want your fag disease."

His eyes widen. "Holy shit! Did you really just say that?"

Fuck. That was supposed to clarify my non-gayness. God, I should have just let him leave.

He slowly walks up to me. Shit. Shit. Shit.

"You sure you aren't already infected, Hargrove?"

Oh, he is very close now. Why can't I fucking move?

He flattens his palm on my right pec. "Last time I checked," he growls in my ear, his chin grazing my cheek, "you woke up in my bed." The coarse fabric of his jeans brushes against my dick. I flinch.

God, I've never felt so vulnerable.

He pulls away, glaring. He grabs his shirt, steps into his shoes, and leaves.

What the fuck just happened.

I'm halfway through putting on my clothes when I freeze. These aren't my pants.