Ruin (boyxboy)

Getting ready

I'm not freaking out — not yet. Why hasn't he called back?

-Austin-

I knew I was being ridiculous when, during class, I kept checking my phone for any missed texts or phone calls. Alan hadn't responded to me. And I hated that my mind was absolute crap, while I made excuses for why he wouldn't talk to me.

 Was it because of my dad?

 Or did I push him too far too fast? Shit.

 My phone vibrated in my hand. Finally!I looked down at the text. We still on for tonight? I was barely able to hide my excitement. As it was, I had such a giant-assed grin on my face, that I'm sure my professor assumed I was high, or looking at dirty pictures or something.

 "Something you want to share with the rest of the class, Mr. Carlile?" Crap, so he had noticed.

 I cleared my throat and nodded. "I have a date." A few people whispered around me. And then I received a slap or two on the back from teammates. My professor, however, seemed less than amused. He rolled his eyes and returned to his lecture. But I couldn't concentrate. Instead, I texted him back.

 Counting down the minutes.

 So I'd lost every ounce of game I'd carefully pieced together throughout my existence. I didn't want to play the cool and aloof guy. The one that had all the time in the world, because I knew I didn't. And I wanted to capture every damn moment until it was too late.

 My hands shook. I checked my phone again. I'd need to do another batch of meds before I saw him tonight. If I skipped my next class, took them about an hour early, and lay down, I'd probably be fine for the date.

 At least, fine enough not to puke all over his pretty face...

 Yeah, okay I realise how gross that sounds now.

 Ten minutes later, I strolled out of the room and made a beeline for the dorms.

~~~~~~~~~

Why hadn't I realized until now that I'd never been on a date? What do I wear? Are we eating? Holy crap! I'm think I'm going to be sick…

-Alan-

"Does it look okay? Really?" I asked for the twentieth time.

 Aaron smacked his hand against his forehead and cursed. "Just chill out! Geez, I have half a mind to give you alcohol right now. Sit. It's almost ready.”

 I smirked.

 Another deadpan expression from Aaron as he ran the iron over the plaid shirt. "I take this to my grave you know."

 "What? The plaid shirt?" I asked innocently.

 "No." He rolled his eyes and unplugged the iron. "My Martha Stewart skills."

 "He can sew too," Tino announced as he walked into the room and dangled a belt in front of my face. "In fact, I'm pretty sure if you asked him to knit you a sweater you'd have one by Christmas."

 "Thanks, cousin." Aaron flipped him off and threw the shirt at me.

 "Hey!" I caught it midair. "We don't want all your hard work going to waste."

 "I need more girl friends," Aaron mumbled as he took a seat on the couch and sighed into his hands.

 Tino gasped. "I'm offended! You know I'm your favorite."