The Fluffy Haired Boy / Joshler

Borrowed

        RING! RING! RING! I tried to walk into class as fast as possible. Hoping no one notice me. "Hey! Everyone! The faggot's late! Must've been sucking too much dick and lost the time!", a boy chuckled. I clutched my books harder as I glared at him. 

        I sat down next to a boy that I'd never seen before.  I tried to look at him without being noticed but I saw he was staring me right in the eye when I did so. He continued even when I looked away. The teacher passed out papers and I began to write my name when he started to tap his fingers on his desk. He was still staring. 

        I saw in my peripherals that he got up slightly and looked at something on my desk. He began to speak, "Tyler, is it? Can I borrow a pencil?" His voice was sweet and gentle. I could tell he spoke with a smile because of the way his vowels were told. "S-Sure." What the hell? Why are you stuttering? He's attractive but not breath taking, I thought. The pencil was given with the trembling hand of mine. He, with gentle, nimble fingers, took the pencil. 

        Time passed.

        The dismissal bell rang and I picked up my things, turned in my work, and left. As I walked (as fast as possible) to my locker, I could feel someone following me. I thought at first that it was my imagination. But when I arrived at my locker, someone was moving towards me. I got my things for my next class; trying to ignore the figure. I closed the door knowing I would have to face whoever was on the other side. Before I could reach for the locker door, I was shut for me. It was Michael. It was just Michael. 

      "My mom packed me PB&J," Michael explained. I nodded. Michael wasn't really my friend. He was just a person that was in a few of my classes and I could carry on a conversation with. Some would consider that a friend; I don't. 

        We walked to lunch together.

        I sat down at our lunch table that consisted of Michael, a few of his friends, and Me. My stomach hurt and it began to make me feel nauseous. I knew that if I ate, I would blow chunks. So when everyone else went to the lunch line, I sat, with my head down, feeling queasy, thinking about him. 

        A picture in my mind. Brown eyes, that would shimmer in the sun. Skin, paler and as flawless as porcelain. Hair, curlier and softer than a new born lamb. A nose, I'd love to boop. Lips, softer that cotton, ones I'd love to place mine on. A body, tall, slim, one I'd love to cuddle, caress, and love to feel about. I was picturing Him. 

        I picked up my head, ready for the florescent lights to blind me. That's when I saw him. Sitting directly across from me. I jumped a little because he frightened me. He was just in my mind. And now he was in front of me. His lips parted, "Hey, buddy."

        Buddy? I'm not his friend. I wouldn't turn him down though. This is him we're talking about. "What are you the counselor?", I spat. That was rude. Why'd you say that? He probably hates you now. Great going Tyler. You met one guy that you're attracted to, that speaks to you, and now you go and fuck it ALL up, I thought. His mouth broke into a smile. He chuckled, "That's funny. I don't believe I told you my name. I'm Josh.

        Josh. A perfect name for a perfect person. He reached out his hand. He wanted me to shake it. I placed my hand firmly on his to hide my shaking. His hands we're calloused but gentle. He worked with his hands. I began, "I'm-", he interrupted, "Tyler. I know. I saw you write it on your paper earlier." I didn't know how to respond so I just smiled.

       "Do you want to go to the Football game with me tonight?", Josh asked. Wait, my mind clicked.  He and his friends must be setting me up so they can make fun of me at the game. I knew it was too good to be true, I thought. Josh must've seen the disappointment in my eyes, "It's not a trick. Trust me. I know how it feels for people to do that to you. It sucks. I'm not like that. I'm being genuine." He smile sweetly after he finished. I nodded and ginned back.

        "We wont be able to talk the entire time though because I'm on the Drum line." That's right. He's in the Marching Band. That's how he works with his hands. "But trust me, it'll be fun!" Josh expressed.

        "Alright, I'll go."

        "Nice!", he exclaimed as he brought his fist up and thrust it down in excitement. As he walked away I noticed he left something.

        The borrowed pencil.