Noah & Navid

Chapter 3- Soccer Team

On Saturdays, Navid played soccer in a local club of Muslim guys. I'd seen the pictures in his online stream that he still didn't know I stalked daily.

He looked so hot in his blue soccer uniform. His black hair was all tousled and sweaty from running around and pushing it back out of his face.  He kept it shaved on the sides, but the top was wild and curled when he didn't straighten it out with gel.

He invited me to go watch his game that Saturday, but it was on the other end of the valley and I didn't know the bus system too well outside of my area.

"No, Noah Kinney, I will come to you. Your father has said it is ok," he said when we got to that place outside our class where I went left to the bus and he went right for the garage.

He gave me a pat on the back and then walked away with his friends. I thought it was odd that he'd talked to my dad, but it didn't seem that out of place for him.

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Saturday morning he was there at my door in a black tank top and red shorts stretched in front by his bulge. I wondered how he carried that around with him everywhere and where he put it when playing soccer. He exchanged a few pleasantries with my dad and we were off.

He drove a stick-shift and thumped loud hip hop as we made our way across the valley.

In my 19 years I hadn't been to many places. My dad has a sister whose family lives in Ventura and we go there for some holidays. His older brother lives near Vegas so we made it out there a few times. But I'd never been to the park Navid took me too.

"You know how to shift, Noah?" he said to me as we roared onto the 405.

"No, it looks complicated," I admitted and once again felt like his world was so much cooler than mine.

"No, not at all," he let go of it and told me to grab it.

I put my hand on the knob and he covered it with his. He laced his fingers through mine and I felt my cock lurch anxiously in my shorts.

He talked me through it as he pushed the stick up and down, left and right.

I didn't hear any of it. All I knew was how nice his hand felt holding mine. He was a little sweaty as he squeezed my hand and shifted around expertly. His car responded every time and we flew down the open freeway.

We drove right up to the mountains where the valley starts to twist angrily towards the sky. Little houses perched precariously above the winding road as he zipped through it in his old but well-kept sportscar.

"Here," he said as he made a sharp turn into a small parking lot on the edge of a cliff. Below us was a sea of green grass formed into baseball diamonds and soccer fields. We were up above it all and he slid the car into a spot where there were no trees to mess up his shine.

I felt a sharp disappointment in my chest when he shifted into park and took his hand off of mine.

"C'mon, I want to show you something! My favorite spot that no one has seen before," he jumped out and went to the back of the car as I scrambled to follow him.

He pulled a sports bag and a grocery store bag out of the trunk and balanced them as he fumbled with the keyfob to lock the car. I offered to help, but he looked at me like I was crazy and set off for a small opening between two ancient, gnarled trees.

I followed him up the little pathway that turned into stone steps and then off on a side dirt trail through thick foliage. It was a hike and I wished I'd worn something other than skater shoes. He kept warning me to step carefully and then checking behind him to make sure I was ok.