Not A Straight Thing About It

Chapter One

--Zayne---

 Zayne liked to compare his friends to animals when they were together. And the animals changed depending on his mood and their behavior. At the moment, his friends were like a horde of monkeys stabbing him in the ears with bananas and stupid conversations.

He sighed heavily, taking a deep breath as he drove toward Danny's house, where he always dropped them off. He rolled the window down, leaning closer to the fresh air as he tried to escape the smell of all of their smoke. They always did it in his car. . .

Zayne turned a corner, only moments away from ditching them all, smiling to himself. His friends had been annoying him for the entire summer, for some reason, and he had avoided them at all costs over that time. The only reason he was with them now was because they were all high and he didn't want them to get hurt.

He suddenly slammed on the breaks, staring wide eyed out the windshield while his friends complained loudly.

"Holy shit, Zoo! Did you hit the new kid?" Brandon exclaimed, hitting him in the shoulder harshly. Zayne flinched, glaring at him as he rolled down the window and peeked around his car. Luckily, his car was okay. . . He could still see himself in the shine of his car, in the reflection of his side mirror. His messy brown hair, his green eyes, the few freckles that dusted his face. Zayne himself wasn't as masculine as he wanted to be, but he wasn't super feminine either. He actually rather liked his body, unless he was with his friends. They sometimes made jokes about his smallness. . .

Zayne groaned when the kid didn't get up, after finally turning his attention away from himself, and opened his door to get out awkwardly. He ran a hand through his hair, hoping he didn't kill the kid, and took a step toward him. Just as he did, the kid pushed himself up onto his knees and brought a hand to his face.

There was a scrape on his nose, and a trickle of blood had already begun to leak down his face from inside his nose. When the kid stood up he spit a mouthful of red onto the road, and Zayne finally caught a glimpse of all the new kids appearance.

He had long, blonde hair, pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, his eyes were a bright, bright blue. He was super tall, and looked very lean. He was wearing a white, button up shirt that now had some scuffs on it, and his pants had holes in the knees that were either new, or old. . . The kid had skinned knees and Zayne couldn't tell which it was. . . But Zayne did know that he could, as odd as it sounded, stare at the new kid forever. . . Zayne liked his appearance.

The kid was currently looking back in dismay at the groceries he had in the bike's basket, which were currently spilled into the street. Zayne was screwed. . . This kid was going to beat the shit out of him. And what would Brandon and the others do? Probably record it. . .

Zayne sighed, looking at the new kid for a moment longer. "Are you. . . okay?" He asked, looking from the groceries and up at the guy standing in front of him as well as his bloody nose.

Brandon was suddenly leaning out of the window, his wavy, brown hair flopping into his eyes randomly, covering the matching brown color. He was grinning and snickering before he even said anything. "Hey! New kid! Quit crying over your spilled milk and move!"

Zayne stood there silently, his eye twitching in irritation. He rubbed his face, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. He felt like he was babysitting, rather than hanging out. . . It had been terribly with these children all day, and now this?

The kid looked back at Brandon. "Boo. Hoo," he said blandly, looking back at Zayne "yes, I'm fine." He said, walking over to pick up the groceries that had survived the crash. "Are you? You look ready to throw up," he said, standing up with his bag of groceries in one hand. He wiped the blood from his lower lip with the back of his hand, looking Zayne over once with a slow, deliberate gaze.

Zayne shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, looking down before looking back at him. "No. . ." he said, then shook his head. "I mean. . . No, I am not going to throw up. . ." he clarified. Did the new kid just check him out. . . ?

The kid shrugged once, picking up his bike and putting the bag back in the basket on the back. He leaned against the bike, looking back at Zayne with a crooked smile. He inclined his head once, "What's your name cutie?"

Zayne startled, feeling his face flush as he bit his lip to conceal his smile, looking away and rubbing his neck. "I. . . Uh. . . It's Zayne," he stammered, hearing Danny mutter a few choice words to the others and instantly dropping his smile and sobering himself. He cleared his throat. "What is your name?" He asked, glancing nervously toward his car as the guys grew silent.

The kid bit his lip in return, smiling with it. "Felisha Esteban Cornelius Bartako." He said, then winked. "But you can call me daddy."

Zayne snorted once, laughing a bit before composing himself. "Okay, so what's your real name?"

The kid raised an eyebrow. "I just told you. . . Felisha Esteban cornelius Bartako," he clarified, sounding offended.

The blood on his face was starting to dry and cake to his skin, and he reached up to try and wipe it from under his nose, getting it smeared all along his arm and face.

Again, he smiled his crooked smile, this time exposing his red, bloody teeth. "You know, you're really attractive," he said, putting his bike on its kickstand and then pulling a marker out of his back pocket, taking the lid off with his teeth. He walked up to Zayne and took his arm, writing out his cell phone number and the name "Daddy" on his arm with a flourish after pulling up his sleeve. He then stepped back, putting the cap back on the pen. "I keep this for special occasions," he said, indicating the pen. "And I think you're one of them, Zayne."

Zayne gaped at him, staring at his arm with wide eyes and making an unintelligible noise. He felt as if his face were on fire. . .

"What? No, I don't. . . I'm not into. . ." he stammered, looking up at whoever this person was. Attractive? He was attractive?

Zayne pulled his arm away, looking up at him with a mixture of horror, confusion, and flattery as he pulled his sleeve back down. "I. . . I'm not gay. . ." he said, accidentally emphasizing the word 'gay', hearing the guys in the car making a lot of rude jokes. He grimaced, looking at the guy apologetically.

The kid shrugged. "Then don't call me," he said, getting on his bike and leaning on one foot. He smiled mischievously. "I bet I could change that for you though," he said, winking once and then riding off slowly.

He circled around the car once, sticking out his tongue with a smile at the people in the car and flipping them off, riding past Zayne again.

"See you later Cutie," he said before riding off down the street and leaving the car, and its residents, behind.

Zayne stared after him, shuddering for some reason at implication in the kid's words. He wordlessly got in the car, ignoring the looks his friends were giving him. He continued silently to their houses, which were all in different parts of the damn town.

He drove quickly to his house, pulling into his driveway and ignoring everybody as he walked upstairs to wash the pink writing off his arm. When he was safely locked away in his bathroom, he stared at the numbers scrawled across his skin in neat, flourished handwriting.

There was something oddly satisfying about this, about that new kid's interest in him. . . He grunted, picking up a towel off the counter, then putting it down and looking at the number again. With a sigh, he took out his phone and typed the number in, adding "Daddy" for the name, and then put it down like it was on fire. What the hell was he doing!?

Losing my mind, that's what. . . He wasn't seriously thinking about texting this kid! Was he? He shook his head, scrubbing at the ink on his arm furiously. . . This was ridiculous. . .