Every Boy's Nightmare - PART ONE of Guns & Roses

Fifty-Seven Degrees With A Chance For Wet Dreams

Clearly, God was punishing him for something.

They took that early dinner outside on the courts, and Chris had avoided speaking with the youngest Walker now if only because his brothers had him so cornered.

However, he learned a lot just by observing the three of them. Clearly, Darren was the quieter one. Not soft-spoken, but he had a particular manner about him where he liked to listen, and Chris felt strongly that when he did listen, he was reading between all the lines, siphoning out all information provided, and when he spoke, he spoke like an adult man who was used to being heard and listened to.

He was also really, really smart. It was evident in his vocabulary, his speech patterns, and his delivery. He sounded very educated, like a creature who had spent a lot of time around equally intelligent high-bred people, and in the same stroke, he was also funny in that way that got Chris every time.

It was just a subtle jab here or a little high-intellect poke there, but he was also a little quirkier than Caleb or Drew, had a whole different vibe to him, that didn’t scream Jock or Killer-instinct, but more just high cognitive playout, and it kept throwing Chris to recall he was only eighteen.

It wasn’t helping anything, because he was very distracted by the sound and tenor of that low voice, the manner in which he conducted himself, that easy glide of motion, and the unhurried quality of energy like he had all the damn time in the universe to sit down and listen to you speak.

Chris honestly was just feeling out of his skin.

He knew how to interact with mobsters like Caleb; you pretty much just shut your mouth then spoke when spoken to when they were pissy, and Drew was just a complete dill; both were usually fine when Chris had his wild mood fluctuations…but Darren was throwing him. He had no idea what to do when someone was clearly that much smarter than him, better educated by default alone, and just…head and shoulders, he was making Chris feel like some inadequate dirt mongrel from the trailer.

It was bizarre, and he wasn’t too happy with it and was also a little desperate to say words to this person, but also was terrified he would trip over a word, or piss Caleb off, or just, in general, make a stupid scene inadvertently. So, he said nothing, literally the whole time he ate, and every single time someone looked at him he looked away, and made it very clear he wasn’t in the headspace for conversing.

Drew and Caleb got it with him often enough, but Darren? He wasn’t sure if he just didn’t catch the memo or didn’t care because, three times Chris had glanced up and found those eyes on him in some way.

Once on his hands in motion, which had made him instantly drop his fork nervously, and twice on his face in some manner. He really wasn’t a fan of being stared at on his best day, but those eyes in particular? They weren't just lusting or anything he usually got; they were curious, assessing, and finally the last time, caught Chris with his own dark stare oogling and that lock-on was instant.

Chris actually stopped chewing, while Caleb and Drew chatted over them, and Darren just offered a small smile in question, and since Chris had no idea what that question was, he just blinked and made himself look down at his plate.

Had it been Caleb or Drew, those a-holes surely would have called him out on the spot, made him squirm and uncomfortable over his own mind for certain, but when he glanced back Darren had just refocused his attention on his brother and rejoined the conversation, and that was the end of it.

It made Christian like him a lot more, and that wasn’t good either.

Caleb though, asked, “You want to ball? We only have a few weeks left of good weather probably.” He sounded very mild. The day was beautiful, a crazy fifty-seven degrees for December, the sky had cleared and now, only drifts of remnant rain clouds were painting over the beautiful winter-blue sky.