Page 18 of Lost Boy
“Sorry, dude.” I try again. “At least it wasn’t a full frontal,amiright?”
That does it, and he snorts again, rolling his eyes and giving me the closest thing to a real smile I’ve seen yet.
Fucking score!
“Let me slip these on, and then you can catch this fade in 2K. How does that sound?” I’m teasing him again; he’s probably good at basketball games too.
Fallon smirks a little more, and I bet I’m right.
* * *
Two games later, and we’re tied. It’s pretty cool to have a friend that can keep up. My actual teammates are shit at video games.
I turn the PS5 off and can’t help but notice the jittery energy of his hand. It’s unusual for his normally stoic self.
I try not to stare, but he catches on and tucks his hand under his thigh. We’re still relaxing on top of the covers, his simple navy blue plaid bedspread neatly made. “You okay?” I whisper.
His steely eyes dart to mine, peeking between his vibrant blue hair.
“What? Of course I am.” His voice is quiet yet rough, and he sounds defensive, so I back off.
“Cool.”
He scrambles off the bed, and I let him, my eyes tracking his movements.
What is he doing so urgently?
He digs through his backpack like he’s desperate to find something. He pulls out a small green notepad and a thick black pen. A Sharpie.
Fallon climbs back on the bed next to me, but this time, he’s angled away so I can’t see the notepad. His foot taps out some rhythm, his sock making a soft thumping noise against the comforter. He chews on that silver lip ring while he frantically scribbles as if he desperately needs to get whatever is in his head onto physical paper.
I turn my attention to the TV and start a solo game of NBA 2K23 for extra practice, leaving Fallon to do his own thing as we wait for this slow-ass pizza. We can chill and enjoy each other’s company in silence. I’m cool with it.
* * *
The rest of the week flies by, and we stay at Dad’s house, so I don’t see Fallon except for lunch, English Lit, and gym. I need more than that. Private time with him is a must, a priority, and I’ll get exactly that tonight.
I slam my locker door shut, ready to get out of here and start the night. Fallon still doesn’t have his uniform after a full week of school, and I have no idea why. He wears black every day, his neon hair the only splash of color. Well, that and the pink shimmer on his lips. Lips that I want to kiss and suck on and see wrapped around my cock.
Fuck. . . I’m distracted again. Staring at him again.
After a few days of hiding out in Joel’s office, he started changing with the rest of the class. I’ve tried to keep my eyes off him, not wanting to be a creeper and alert the other guys to my interest in him or dudes in general. Well, except for Jamie. He already knows.
Peeling my eyes away from Fallon seems to be a feat far too great for me to overcome.
Fallon’s creamy, pale skin is flawless and smooth. His muscles are lean, and there’s not an ounce of fat on him. He’s a little thin and on the shorter side, but everything about him does it for me. His size included.
I want to pick him up, throw him over my shoulder, and toss him onto the bed. Experience new things together.
I’ve never hooked up with anyone. Guys or girls. I’m fucking horny.
“You’re doing it again, dude,” Jamie’s even tone warns from under his breath. “Be careful.”
Right. The staring. It needs to stop. I shake the lusty thoughts from my brain and finish putting on my school uniform so we can leave for the weekend.
“Trying,” I mumble under my breath.
I can’t let my attraction to him mess up basketball. I just can’t. But would it? I just don’t know if colleges or even the NBA would accept it.
