Something Like Shame (BWWM)

Chapter 1

...little love of my adult life, or "nymphet" as some would describe her. Now, with my eyes closed, I could catch her in a ghostly flash behind these lids. Her soft, spongy hair and skin like crude oil. Ladies and gentlemen, she was a sight to behold...

I woke to the blaringly loud honk outside my window and instantly crawled out of bed. The morning was cold so I shrugged into an old gray sweatshirt, sprayed some moisturizer through my hair, and swiped a granola bar before stepping out the door.

Once again, I had to be early.

There was hardly anyone awake yet. Seth was waiting in his car, bright-eyed as ever. I climbed into the hatchback, cranked the radio and stale air conditioning up to keep my drifting eyes alert as he wound us through the neighborhood, weaving past unmoving cars parked along curbs. Hair and clothes disheveled, he crunched on a cup of ice before chugging an energy drink. This was just a part of our routine. I wiped the remnants of sleep out of my dry eyes, "Tell me again why we do this."

"It'll pay off in the long-run. You'll thank me when you get into Emerson too-" He started.

"And have to pay a ridiculously high tuition until I'm fifty?" I rolled my eyes as he took another long gulp out of his second can. Knowing him, he probably had a third one standing somewhere at the ready, "I haven't slept for more than six hours for the past three days, bro. What do you think that means? I'm gonna crack. I just know it."

We arrived at the school library two hours before the first-period bell every day to paint wall murals and fix installations for the school. The work was sometimes tedious, but at least it paid well. We rolled into the school entrance which was a long path that split the teacher's lot from the students and parked in the very front, a part of the school that was typically brimming with traffic- reckless drivers, absent-minded students, and overweight policemen.

Taking a swig from his half-empty can, I grimaced. The taste was too strong and bitter, "Can't this kill you?"

Smug, he grinned at me with jittery blue eyes, "Some drink this to live, I drink it to die."

I hoisted a bag full of paint and shut the car door behind me. He grabbed a second bag from the trunk and followed.

"Where're we going this time?" He asked as we passed the glass doors of the library.

"The senior hall."

"No one uses their lockers anymore."

"They do make-out next to them, though, and when a person's licking your esophagus, you'll always need something pleasant to look at. We can at least give people that much." I shouldered my way through the doors. The buckets and cans in my hands, sloshing paint on the plastic tarp, nearly hit the floor at the sight of the man doing our work.

He was incredibly focused and incredibly handsome as kneeled into a squating position in front of the lockers. Sweeping his arms into wide arcs, shaking the can with a vigor, then spraying the bottoms of the lockers again.

I flushed and tried to gather my things to leave, but Seth grabbed my elbow. "Who's this guy?"

"I have no idea." My stomach fluttered and I was looking everywhere but at the dark-haired Adonis that was only six feet away.

Seth frowned. I could tell that my nerves were clear to him, like always, "Are we just gonna watch him or...?"

I shrugged and grabbed a bucket, "Maybe... I dunno."

"The paint's still wet, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Then grab one."