The Blue Eyed Boy

Caleb I

"It was the most beautiful pair of brown eyes that my eyes have seen" -and i could lose myself in them 

My skin was on fire. Flames of warmth and electricity coated my skin wherever he touched me.

Wait, he?

I forced my dreaming self to look around. And there was a boy in front of me. He was faceless, but I could tell it was a boy because he didn't have a shirt on. The electrifying feeling continued, but it was less blissful. I liked it better when I hadn't known who was touching me.

Suddenly, the body of the boy changed to that of a girl. I instantly jumped away, repulsed by her naked image.

I woke up seconds later, panting and drenched in a thin layer of sweat. The covers were half falling of the bed. I could hear my heartbeat against my rib cage.

My ceiling fan whirred around at full speed, filling the room with a slight buzzing noise. I ran my hands through my hair and over my face, trying to shake the feeling of him touching me.

That...nightmare? Dream? Whatever it was, it had been reoccurring for me since I turned 14. I knew what it meant, as would anyone else having this same...scenario play out in their minds, but acknowledging what it meant outside of unconsciousness sleep was a little scary.

Besides, the feelings of wanting? Desiring? Insert a term used for the arrival or appearance of urges for the same sex...they never occurred once I had woken up. Therefore, the best thing to do would be to leave it as is.

Shaking the lingering feelings of electric love from my body, I stood up off the bed and made my way across the expanse of my very small room.

"Goddamn it!" The scratchy voice of my dad rang through our, in proportions with my room, very small house. "Shit! Fuck! Mother of Mary! Caleb! Get your ass in here, these eggs keep burning!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming." I continued out of my room and into the narrow hallway that lead directly into the living room with the adjoined kitchen. There was my dad, six foot one, bent over a pan of smoking eggs, his face was red from all the yelling. Empty beer bottles filled the rusty trash can that sat right beside the exposed pipes of the sink.

"What are you standing there for? Come over here and help me!" A loud clanging of metal hitting metal shook the flimsy cabinets above the stove as my dad threw the pan back on the burner.

I edged my way around him; he was just kind of standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring off into space. When I inhaled the smell of alcohol filled my nose, like what usually tended to happen whenever I went within a six inch radius of my dad. He must've downed quite a few because the cloud of beer stench was so strong it made me choke a bit.

As I put all the bottles-27-into the recycle bin and threw away the incinerated breakfast, my dad moved towards the couch in the living room, popping open another beer as he did so.

"I want you to hurry up in there and then get the wheelbarrow. There's a shit ton of driftwood piling up in the yard." I sighed and clenched my hand into a fist to stop myself from screaming.

It wasn't anything new; my dad had never really cared about what I thought, nor had he given much effort to ensure I had a satisfactory childhood. I was used to the demanding chores, the yelling, the endless amounts of swearing, and the occasionally slap on the back of the head or a punch to the stomach. It had been getting on my nerves more than usual lately. Every time he told me how I was going to spend my day, I wanted to reach across however much distance was between us and rip his throat out.

Breathe. Inhale, exhale. My fist slowly relaxed so my hand was hanging non-violently to my side. I cleared my throat, ensuring he was turned in my direction. If you didn't have total eye contact with my dad, then there was a ninety-nine percent chance that anything you said would fly right over his balding head.

"I already told you, I am going camping with a bunch of my friends. Jay's picking me up in," I checked the clock on the wall, "about forty-five minutes. I can pick up wood when I get back."

"And when will that be?" His words overlapped each other so it was very difficult to distinguish what he was asking.

"Uh...sometime in the afternoon on Sunday."

"I want you back by 11 am Sunday." There went my sentence, over his head and right through the broken window.

"Sure thing." If you don't pass out before Jay gets here, maybe I will think about being punctual this time. I thought but didn't say as I headed to my room and began to throw clothes into a duffel bag.

Since my dad had no intention of paying for any of my personal belongings, I got a job at this fancy bistro, mixing and blending all sorts of coffee drinks. It paid really well, since the only people who ordered were from the downtown part of Boardale. With the money I got every Friday-cold hard cash-I was able to afford most brand name clothing.

Because of the nicer clothes and the fact that I was the running back for the high school team, I had earned a spot with Jay Hamilton (quarterback), Timothy Jefferson (center), and Jonah Matters (linebacker). They all hung out in a group and if I was three years younger and five inches shorter I would say they were the stereotypical popular crowd you watch in those cliche teen romance movies, but I am now apart of that group so I can't make derogatory comments.

The sound of knuckles rapping on the busted frame of the screen door peeled my gaze away from packing and into the hall. I could make out the shape of Jay standing on our porch.

"Coming!" I zip up my bag, shove on a clean pair of jeans, pull a t-shirt over my head, grab my shoes, and head of the door.

"Yeah man! Lets go get drunk with hot girls in the middle of fucking nowhere!" Hoots and hollers came from the Jeep Wrangler Jay owned.

"Hurry up you slowpokes, I wanna hit the road! There's a few stops we gotta make for our...supplies." Jonah yelled from the backseat. I could see his light brown hair covered head poking out of the jeep. His use of the word supplies indicated that we were not going to be picking up fishing bait.

"Hey look it's gay boy!" Jay nodded in the direction of who could only be Alexander Safog, the only gay person, that we knew of, who attended Boardale High. He lived over on the rich side of town; what he was doing here I had no idea. Alexander-Alex?-was riding his bike at a fairly steady pace down my street...and there was Samantha Clark. Right behind him on a bike of her own like always. For some reason, those two had been best friends since before they could speak coherent words. But they couldn't have been more different, Sam had grown up near my house before she got adopted by one of her teachers and moved closer to Alex, whereas Alex's parents were the CEO's of some big company up in San Deigo. Samantha liked being out there and reckless. Alex preferred keeping to himself. At least, that's what I had come to observe. We never talked aside from the casual 'Hey' or 'Hello' that had most likely occurred back in elementary and junior high.

As they rode past, the guys all got really quiet. Jay was really the only one who had an issue with the fact that he was gay. The rest of just thought he was a bit odd.

When Sam rode by however, they all made wolf whistles and strongly communicated they wouldn't mind, to put it politely, make love to her in very disgusting ways. My face flushed deeply for a quick second as I thought that instead of whistling at Sam, they should have done the same for Alex. My cheeks flushed impossibly deeper when I realized Alex was pretty hot.

I shook my head to erase those thoughts. I was going camping with my best friends. There was going to be booze, hot girls, and no gay people.

With deep breaths, I looked through the screen door one more time to make sure my dad saw me leaving, but there he was, passed out cold.