Where Am I? (boyxboy)

Chapter Seven

Happy Wednesday everyone! Here's the next chapter!

*****

Every single boy in the locker room was staring at me. Not the good kind of stare like, 'Damn look at that fine piece of ass right there.' It was more like, 'Oh no, he's going to fuck me in the ass.' Type of stare. Sorry guys, not all gay people having raging hormones that are so out of control that we want to have sex with every single male we see. Alec, of course, being an exception.

Bad fortune seemed to follow me like a shadow, I was standing in a locker room with the whole basketball team and some of the football team. Meaning Matt, Alec, Kendall, Derek, and a few other guys that had been on the same team as me. Alex, Darren, Wesley and a few I didn't care enough to remember of the years. They were on the second line-up. Matt and apparently Derek were both on the football team, no surprise there, although Derek didn't really have the muscle to be a football player. Looks can be deceiving. I was enough proof of that.

In faced in situations like this, which seemed to have become a norm for me, I like to use the tactic of being friendly as possible while showing blatant disinterest. It makes little sense until you actually do it.

"Hey." I said, before walking confidently to my locker and spinning in the combination. "You know, class punctuality is part of our grade, if you're just going to keep staring slack-jaw at me you're going to be late." I sighed out, not turning to look at everyone before sliding my shirt over my head and undoing my silver studded belt. With one quick motion it was out from my belt loops and shoved in the locker. I looked down at my toned figure, well I guess a six pack is a little more than toned, but still.
Feeling eyes on me, I looked from the corner of my eye to see Alec ogling my body, his eyes darkening.

Quickly he snapped them shut. Boy what I would give to see what images were running through his mind right now. When he opened his eyes they were no longer on me, but glued to his locker as he pulled his shirt over his head. As I worked on putting on a black T-shirt I studied Alec's body.

Sure, he had grown and filled out. His shoulders broadened and he had shot up so he was a few inches taller than me. He looked good, sporting his own six pack and pecks that were drool worthy. His dark brown hair waved over his forehead the slightest bit so it was almost down to his eyebrow. The grey shirt he put on, that would look dull on anyone else, made his riveting blue eyes stand out and the curve of his torso was defined nicely.

When I was done changing I ignored the rest of the guys who were still sending me warning looks of disgust. If we played a contact sport in here I'd be on a team by myself. Figuratively of course. When I entered the large gym, fashioned to have the lines of a basketball court, volleyball court and a track surrounding it, and there, arms crossed in the middle off the gym was my coach. I could have cried from happiness.

Coach Wily was a hard ass, a pain in the ass, a drill sergeant and a completely emotionless person, but he trained our team well and led us to victory freshman year. He pushed me to my limits and beyond them and that's how I've challenged myself to play ball whenever I get on the court. I in no way idolized the man, but it was warming to see a familiar face even if he didn't share the feeling.

He looked at me strangely, recognition flashing in his eyes for only a moment, before he wore a stony mask once more. Maybe he was just looking at me odd because I was frozen in the middle of the surrounding track just staring at him. Maybe it was because I was sporting an all black outfit and had a thick line of liner and blue and purple streaks in my hair. Just as I turned to head to the bleachers I heard coach call out.

"Hey kid!" He shouted, something he only called someone when he didn't know your last name. I don't think I've ever heard Coach Wily use someone's first name. I don't think he bothered to learn them at all. Shoving my hands in the pockets of my loose basketball shorts, I made my way over to him. Averting my amber colored eyes I said in a strained bored voice, "Yes, Coach." I could feel his glassy blue eyes studying me like an analyzer, making me shift uncomfortably.