a short story

This post is completely non-fiction, this isn’t based off of my own life experiences (I don’t have many), it is simply me writing creatively about a boy called Evan I have created. A quick warning however as this is a happy gay romance short story, I’m sick of reading or watching stories about gay couples who never make it.

I glanced across the immense lawn, scarred from the trampling of hundreds of uniformed students and their hard-soled shoes. Not twenty metres away, a flock of girls and boys encompassed a year 11 boy, my age, whom had a startled and almost angry expression across his face. Chris’ hair was tousled and unkempt, thick dark-brown hair. His face was long and tanned, his chiseled jawline held up his neat mouth and lips and perfect nose. Soft brown eyes matched his hair, giving a mesmerising effect which I would happily look at endlessly. I was staring. Suddenly, he was looking right back at me with a puzzled face. My heart skips a beat and blood flushes my cheeks as I whip my head back forwards; I tuck my books to my chest and briskly walk away as fast as looks normal. I’m unaware that he watches me until I melt into the ever growing crowd of students headed for the morning’s first lesson.

Three lessons later, I have Jake and Lily by my side babbling about our latest Chemistry assignment. Subconsciously we’ve been making our way to the centre of our school, the middle of the town it’s found in.

“Co Tes?” I question, suspending their argument, it’s our name for Tescos. Casually, both nod and leave their different opinions with their books as we set them down and continue to the exit of the building. I extend my arm to push the door open but instead find my palm firmly pressed against a chest. I look up from my hand and it’s him. Chris gives me a confused look as I remain completely still, frozen on the spot.

“Hi,” he says, even his voice is amazing. I open my mouth stupidly, but stay speechless until Jake pulls my arm down and pushes me against the wall, making way for Chris to pass. He looks somewhat disappointed yet departs for Mr King’s classroom. Jake leads the way, out the door and I follow. Sneakily I steal another look back and am mortified to see that he is still looking, but he waves and I awkwardly raise my hand halfway before the door blocks my view.

“Chris Williams! Oh my god! He’s so cute.” Lily squeals as we exit Tescos. I embarrassedly look down at my feet to hide my growing grin.

“Keep it down please!” I hiss under my breath, “I don’t need everyone finding out, especially him,” the thought sends icy chills through my body.

Jake gives me a grin, “How long have you had love eyes for him?” My face distorts and scrunches up at his question. Nothing is more awkward than talking to straight guys about guys, not that I don’t like that he tries to be supportive by doing so, but it’s so much harder to talk to guys about guys than talking to girls about guys.

“We are not having this conversation right now,” I say trying to tame their curiosity. I am fruitless.

“I think he likes you too,” Lily says normally with a contained small grin on her face. I look sheepishly to her. “I’m not kidding, you’re not the only one giving extended looks.” I actually die, when she says this.

“What are you talking about!” I cry, trying to mask the excitement with outrage and shock. She gives me a cute and suggestive smile as we re-enter the school centre.

“Maybe if you just keep your head off the desk during lessons, you could notice some wandering eyes too,” she teases before she quickly snatches her books from the floor and makes for Ms Smith to confirm what the Chemistry assignment is about.

Two weeks later and I begin to understand what Lily was talking about, though she refuses to say more. I can sometimes catch Chris peeking in my direction during classes and in the mornings, trying to seperate from his entourage heading my way, but being the idiot I am, I evade his attempts at conversation.

It’s break. “I’m a complete arse,” I say sadly to Grace, another friend who’s been let into the drama courtesy of Lily. She’s looking across the terrace of students and looks to me funnily.

She grabs my arm and violently hauls me from my seat into the thick of the horde of students. Faces blur as I am helplessly dragged across the terrace. “Grace. Grace, Grace!” I struggle to say whilst laughing though I am utterly unaware of her plans. “Where are we g-” I stop mid-sentence as my gaze falls upon the boy in front of us. My legs spasm and jolt as I pointlessly struggle against Grace’s powerful grasp. “Stop! Grace, please” I whisper loudly. Eyes fall upon me as I am pulled upright, only centimetres separating myself and Chris.

He gives me a curious look. “Have you got English next?” he asks innocently.

“Uhh..” I have to stop staring at his face. This is too awkward, I feel like curling up into a ball on the floor.

“He does,” Grace interjects calmly, handing me my books and smiling cheekily at me. Chris’ friends look at him weirdly, as if to say “What are you doing? Why do you want to walk with him.” I again keep my head down until we exit the area and then look up at him. He’s looking right at me.

“Hi,” he says, and I sense his nervousness. I begin to relax, if only a bit, understanding that I’m not the only one who’s shy and feeling awkward.

“Hey,” I reply. Honestly, at this moment that’s the best I could do. He smiles and in a rush, courage cascades swiftly throughout my being. “Is there something happening between us?” right after I say it, my heart sinks, anticipating the worst: Are you kidding? No. What could be possibly be happening between us? This was a mistake. I don’t like you, you’re a weirdo. I should’ve listened to my friends. You’re a creep, I hate you.

We reach the English department in silence and as we’re about to part ways he catches my wrist. “I hope so,” he responds. I stop and feel my blood flush from my body, my heart out of control, thumping louder than ever, my legs turn to jelly and I have trouble standing. “Talk to you later?” he continues. Giving me a wink he turns on his heel and departs. I remain stationary for a minute and then climb the stairs to my classroom practically gasping for air. That did not just happen!

Three days later and it’s a Sunday. I am sitting outside of my house on a stone wall swinging my feet through the overgrown grass beneath me. The sky is mottled with white spots of clouds enshrouded in a bright playful blue. The birds twitter and chirp as the wind gently blows through my hair. My senses are next made aware of the mild rustling of gravel under shoes and I bring my head around to face its source. How can he be so perfect? His clothes are neat and stylish, completely in tune with his physical appearance. It’s like the clothes were made solely to be worn by him since both compliment each other so well.

“Hi.” How does he do that? Every time he says it, the swarm of butterflies confined in my stomach make a ruckus. He smiles so genuinely and kindly, “Should we go?”

It’s my turn to speak and I savagely beat down the cowardice I feel. “Yeah, let’s go.”

We walk for a long time through the town and through fields. With every word it becomes easier to speak and I feel myself becoming lighter. We talk about school, assignments, teachers (I was especially pleased that we could agree on Mr Keath being an absolute prat), family, holidays, food, hobbies, sport and more. For the first time in a long time I didn’t feel restrained in speech, I could say anything I wanted to, a freedom that I sometimes didn’t even have with my friends. Somehow the topic of Shawn Mendes arises.

“He’s so hot!” I exclaim. Chris looks at me and just laughs, to which I bashfully shut my mouth and try to hide my burning cheeks. Chris walks ahead and stops in the middle of a clearing encompassed by forest on all sides. It’s a near perfect circle of lush green grass that interrupts the dense forestry. I look up and he beckons me towards him.

“Shawn Mendes is cute,” he assures me, and I look up at him. Our eye contact is out-of-this-world, something I have never felt before overcomes me. I find my chest pressed against his. His hand rises, thumb extended from the rest of his hand, his expression is calm and happy. His thumb brushes against my chin as the other fingers glide across my neck, his thumb remaining on my jawline. His fingers on my nape he says, “But I’d rather be here with someone else.”

I gulp, but keep staring in to his eyes as he does the same with me. Dumbly I ask, “Who would that be?”

His head tilts slightly as it conquers distance from mine. I feel his breath on me and I become engrossed in the moment. Nothing else matters at this moment anymore. I move my face forward in response and our lips remain apart by the width of a pencil. He smiles and I return it. Our lips make contact softly and we stay still for several seconds, when we both pull away synchronised. I cannot begin to pretend that it was a brilliant kiss, it was my first, but for me I felt like nothing could ever top it. We both just stand there smiling and staring at each other and then we hug. We hug for minutes on end.

By the time we’ve gotten back to my house again the sun is dipping into the horizon. We’ve been holding hands, and I’m happier than I’ve been for a long time. We stop and stand still at the door.

I open my mouth but cannot find the right words. He looks upset. “Is this what you want?” he asks me and I am totally flabbergasted.

“What?” I hold his gaze and smile. “Of course.” He lets out a sigh.

“Good,” he answers. “That means I can do this.” He leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “And this.” His lips are again planted on my own and my worries melt away. I forget that Lily is coming over for our Geography assignment, so as we pull apart I see her in the corner of my eye grinning madly and actually hopping up and down with joy. Chris turns to face her and becomes bashful himself.

Lily comes over, looks us both over shortly and burst out, “This is freaking amazing!” Chris and I just look at each other and smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Chris quietly asks me.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I reply beaming.

4 thoughts on “a short story

      1. Of course! I tried to send a really long cheesy motivational comment on your 3rd to last post but I think I may have closed the tab before I sent it ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚


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