Boys

 

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Boys

VAL DAY-SANCHEZ

Copyright © 2016 Val Day-Sanchez

All rights reserved.

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The beginning

It was always the same. She had let him in. He had pleased her. Now he laid in her bed, waiting.

Perhaps this would be the evening that she invited him to stay. Maybe this was the night where she would ask him to be morethan---. He stopped short. What was he exactly? He came when she called. He allowed her to keep him a secret. No one new how intimately he knew her. And again he felt his mind contradicting the facts.

How well did he know her? He knew how to make her moan. He knew where to place his fingers to evoke her hurried breath. But he didn't know what she did after practice. He didn't know if she preferred print books over the Ereader that he saw resting on her dresser. When he closed his eyes he could summon her smell but he had no idea what her favorite food was. So what was that? It was a cloudy confused sophisticated torture that he entered upon gladly at first and regrettably later.

The feeling of being replaceable, interchangeable, cheap. It never went away. It didn't matter if she was lying beneath him or if he was in the middle of a run. If he was bagging groceries at work or if he was watching a movie with his mother. He never felt good about who he was. There was always that shame. She had carved her way under his skin in more ways than one but the most prevalent was her refusal of him.

She never rejected him, not physically. It was her vehement denial that he was anything more than what she allowed him to be that had created his self-loathing.

But he couldn't remain angry with her, for she was not the object of his disgust. She had never lied to him. She had never pretended with him. Was that worse than a lie? He would rather she sing his praises, tell him the tales of how she could not live without him, how she wanted to declare to the world or at least their fellow classmates, that he meant something to her. He would be reborn if only she faked that one day they would be exclusive. Even if for just a second she successfully tricked him into believing that it was not all a farce. He would continue this forever if she would just lead him on, just for a moment. He rolled over, was he so pathetic?

He didn't hate himself, not so much to debase himself to this but then he wondered. Was this, whatever it was, so awful? He couldn't say her name aloud, no one could know about this, thing but it was casual sex. Isn't that what guys were supposed to want? Weren't relationships something that girls wanted? Commitment was supposed to make him squeamish. What a stupid rule, didn't commitment make everyone uncomfortable? The idea of committing yourself to one person should at the very least make you nervous. If it doesn’t than you are made of stone. In contrast, shouldn't the idea of someone leading you on a road to nowhere make you panic?

It made his heart race, thinking about crawling through her window again. He deserved better, as his sister would say if he ever confirmed her suspicions. She had thought for months that her little brother was sleeping with Lindsay Luna, the captain of the volleyball team. The only person who owned a convertible at their school. The only girl that had been nothing but awful to him until eight months ago. God, had it been that long?

Their arrangement had started as one would think, she had pulled into his driveway while he was mowing the lawn. He was ready to fold inside himself when he saw her. He was wearing his worn A's cap and sweat stained state t-shirt with a five o'clock shadow.

He'll never forget the way she had looked at him. No one had ever stared at him with such disdain and longing. It was a combination that he had first mislabeled as sexy but now as he reflected upon that moment, he saw it as the former. She had never looked upon him in a way of admiration or wanting. Once she had him, he was disposable.

He hears the shower shut off and he pulls up his pants. Shoving his bare feet into his shoes.Just wait. Maybe this will be the time.Perhaps tonight she will run her fingers up your back. She will lean in close. Her lips will rub against your ear, whispering the words you have waited 243 days to hear.

He pulls his t-shirt over his head and moves to the window as the bedroom door opens.

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About the Author

Valerie Day-Sánchez enjoys reading and writing across genres, although young adult is her favorite at the moment. Threshold is her first attempt at Sci-Fi. Her other work consists of YA Fantasy Trilogy, Harlow Whittaker. She received both her B.A. and M.A. in Communication Studies from New Mexico State University. Her love of the desert Southwest keeps her close to home although she loves to travel, especially when she gets a chance to try the local cuisine. Playing with her two sons and the family’s Boston Terrier, Winston, are how she occupies her time when she’ not writing.

 

 

 

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