Grayson's Body

Amicable

Chapter 2: Amicable

amicable

am·​i·​ca·​ble | \ˈa-mi-kə-bəl \

Definition of amicable

characterized by friendly : peaceable

10 years later

Have you ever seen a person that makes you stop whatever you're doing to look at them?

I mean they can be a man or a woman but the guy next to you kind of forgets that he's pounding the living hell out of the vending machine in the cafeteria. The girls stop their pointless chatting to stare as they pass by because this person is the epitome of genetic perfection and they can't help it. It's electric, magnetic, almost unnatural.

I mean, they are the person that comes into a room and everyone's eyes turn to them and they really don't know why. They don't know why they can't keep their eyes off them.

Is it the hair? Is it the way that they can ooze confidence without meaning to, effortlessly? Is it the way that they smile in just the right way to catch the light, and then, boom, their freakin' Kelly LeBrock?

Is it the body that demands attraction before anything else?

You just kind of, sort of, want them to walk down the hallway in slow motion like in the movies, like the hot girl, because they seem like they belonged there.

I mean, Grayson was like that.

He was that guy.

If you look up "attractive" in the dictionary, you'll find his face, his half smirk, looking back at you. If you look up "sports god" you'll find him there too.

Because that was what Grayson Clark was.

And everyone knew it.

And me?

Well, I was Ethan Lesnicki.

I was the guy who read during lunch and shoved my headphones into my ears to block out the world. I was the one who didn't talk unless someone talked to me first, the one who tried to avoid conflict like the plague, and just tried to bare through it all. I wanted academic perfection, to constantly take in information, to learn.

After all, isn't that what school is for?

I was the guy everyone wanted to be partners with when we had to do projects in class because they knew I'd do all of the work and not complain about it.

But if Grayson and I were in a class together, no one wanted to be partners with me for some reason. They'd just look at him quickly, then to me, and then didn't give me a glance ever again.

"You wanna be partners, Needy?" He'd say as he turned around in his desk.

And I'd look up at him like, Why are you even asking?

He had called me Needy ever since we were kids. Ever since we were seven.

It didn't bother me so much because I was so used to it. Others at school started to think that was my actual name, though, even the teachers. I kind of gave up correcting them after awhile.

"Needy Lesnicki?" The teacher had called on the first day of Senior year and I kind of choked because I knew that was not on my official schedule. It couldn't be.