Lockers and Boxers (boyxboy)

Chapter XII - Faux Hawk

"Oh, uhh, just looking around," I say, looking down at my shoes.

"You're not a narc, right?" Faux Hawk Boy looks me up and down. He's sizing me up, just like Marcus had in the stairwell. I wonder what goes through their mind when they survey me. What are they even looking for?

"No, no. I'm not a narc. I was just wondering what was in this room. A ping-pong table, apparently."

"Oh, yeah," his glare softens into a slight smile. "The table was supposed to be for a student rec room. There was a fundraiser for it and all, but it never happened. Admin probably pocketed the money."

"Knowing them? Definitely." Faux Hawk Boy doesn't seem too bad. I'm not sure if he recognizes me as Gabe's "friend" or not and if it would even matter if he did.

"Are you a Senior?" he asks me, running his hand through his hair. I guess he doesn't know who I am, which isn't surprising considering that I hardly talk to anyone besides Gabe. I should probably try to be more social, but, you know, high schoolers are kind of vicious.

"Yeah. You are too, right?"

"Yep! This is my first year at this school, though. I went to Saint Joseph Academy for Freshman through Junior year." Now it makes sense why I had hardly seen Faux Hawk. I didn't really peg him for the Christian private school type, but I guess I could see it.

"Oh, that's cool. The only thing I know about Saint Joseph's is that it's for hardcore Christians with a shit ton of money." I take a second to process what I just said. Why do I always think after speaking? "Sorry," I add, "I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I'm sure it's cool there."

"Nah, you're spot on. There are definitely some... extreme people there, and, yeah, most of them are loaded. My family's just the strict Christian type, not loaded, though. I was on a scholarship." Faux Hawk moves toward me, leaving his position at the doorway. He sits on a desk right next to me. "You wanna sit?"

"Sure," I say, shifting my weight onto the desk behind me. I feel weirdly comfortable with Faux Hawk. Usually, I'd be terrified to be in some closet with a random guy who could, based on the size of his biceps, pretty easily beat me up, but things feel natural with him. "Do you come to this dingy closet a lot?" I ask him, wanting our conversation to continue.

Faux Hawk laughs at my comment. "Don't call my closet dingy! It's just... rustic."

"Your closet? You claimed this place in the half-semester you've been here?"

He rolls his eyes at me. "Well, I don't think anyone else has claimed it, so yeah, it's my closet. I could probably take this ping pong table," he pats the table, "and no one would notice."

"Ten dollars says you can't sneak it out," I tease. "Those ladies that work in the front office have eyes like hawks."

"Although I'm not usually one to shy away from a bet," Faux Hawk's smirk seems to confirm that, "I wouldn't want to rob my closet of its main attraction."

"Attraction?" I laugh. "You invite a lot of people back here to play ping pong?"

"I mean, I totally would if there were paddles and a ping pong ball. Unfortunately, it's not a super fun game with just the table."

"That's too bad," I tell him. "I was really looking forward to playing a game with you. I'm pretty good at ping pong."

"Oh, yeah?" Faux Hawk asks, smiling. He runs his hand through his hair again. He's very attractive but in a different way than Gabe. He is less ripped-jock (although he definitely lifts, judging from his arms) and more pampered, perfect skin and hair handsome.