by Drew Hunt
* * * *
Central High School—Crawford, Vancouver, WA, September 1991
The coach had worked the soccer team hard: harder than usual in Mason’s opinion. Dragging his tired body out of the showers, Mason reached for a towel. Stepping into the main part of the locker room, he beheld the sight of the football team in a state of semi-undress. Usually the soccer team used the smaller locker-room in the sports complex, but it was closed due to some problem with the water supply.
Snapping out of his momentary shock, Mason made his way to the benches and began to dry himself. The sight of so much new eye candy proved too hard to resist, however. One particularly fine example of maleness was displaying itself to Mason’s right. The penis was good sized; Mason was willing to bet its owner was getting aroused judging by its slight plumpness as the smooth pink tube rested against an almost hairless ball sac.
With a jolt, Mason realized he’d been staring too long. A brief glance could be passed off as innocent curiosity, but a prolonged stare was something else entirely. Lifting his gaze, Mason’s eyes swept up a smooth and beautifully muscled torso to a handsome, square-jawed face, a pair of intense grey eyes staring back at him. Mason gasped. He’d been checking out Parker Collins, The Parker Collins. The six feet two inch, hundred ninety pound star wide receiver and safety.
Feeling a wave of nausea rising from his churning stomach, Mason put his clothes on over his still damp body and got the hell out of Dodge. In his haste he almost tripped over the laces of his sneakers, which he’d left untied.
How the fuck could I have been so goddamned stupid? Parker Collins. Of all the mother-fuckingly dumb-ass idiotic things to do! Mason thought.
Mason didn’t sleep much that night. Visions of Parker and his team mates bearing down on him, kicking the crap out of him, didn’t exactly aid his rest.
* * * *
An insistent buzzing woke Mason from the light doze he’d managed to slip into. Opening his eyes, he wondered if he ought to pretend to his mom that he was too sick to go to school. Hell, I won’t have to do much pretending, he thought, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the door of his closet.
Getting out of bed, Mason knew he had to face the music sometime; putting it off would only make things worse.
To his surprise the sky didn’t fall in when school began. No one stared at him, called him names, or threatened to break his bones. Maybe Parker’s gonna bide his time before kicking my ass, he thought as he pushed open the door to the main building.
Mason kept a low profile during the day. He thought he saw Parker at the other end of the hallway when they were both changing classes after second hour, but he managed to dive into a bathroom before Parker could see him.
Two days passed without incident. Mason was sitting in his usual spot under a maple tree, enjoying the warmth of the fall weather. After grabbing a sandwich, some fruit and a can of soda from the snack bar, he would often escape to his tree to eat his lunch. Few people used that part of the campus, tucked away as it was behind the sports complex.
A shadow fell across his gaze. When he looked up, Mason’s jaw fell, and his stomach clenched.
“Hi,” the calm voice said.
“Um.” Mason stared up at his visitor.
“This spot taken?” Parker asked, nodding at the space next to Mason.
“N-no.”
Parker, never losing an ounce of his fluid grace, positioned himself next to Mason, their bare arms touching slightly.
“What ya got in the sandwich?” Parker eventually enquired after the two had remained quiet for a couple of minutes.
Mason stared at the object in his hand; his appetite having deserted him the moment Parker had shown up. “Um, Bologna and Swiss cheese.”
“Cool,” Parker said, before asking, “You gonna finish it?”
“I…” Mason wondered why they were talking about food. Why hadn’t Parker already beaten the crap out of him?”
“Dude?”
“Err, um, n-no, sorry.”
“Hand it over then. Man, I’m fucking starved. Lunch was a pile of shit.”
Silently Mason gave Parker the remainder of his meal, stealing glances at the jock-god from the corner of his eye.
When Parker had finished eating, belched loudly and scratched his nuts—an action that caused Mason to whimper—he got to his feet. “Same time tomorrow, then,” Parker said over his shoulder before loping away.
It wasn’t until Parker had gone out of sight before Mason felt he had been released from some kind of spell. Why did being in Parker’s presence make him act like a blushing tongue-tied fuck up? He was a senior just like Mason, they both played sports. Mason shook his head, unable to come up with a rational explanation.
* * * *
Parker kept his promise, appearing at the maple tree next day. Mason, being prepared, had bought extra.
“Thanks, bud,” Parker said, picking up the oversized sandwich.
Mason was captivated by how the big guy ate. He’d never thought watching someone chewing their food could be sexy, but the way Parker did so sure was. He felt a stiffening in his pants, which soon became uncomfortable. Fearing he’d draw attention to his predicament if he adjusted himself, Mason sat quietly, an arm lying strategically across his lap. Why does this guy have this effect on me? Mason asked himself as he stole another quick glance at the handsome athlete.
“Thanks, man,” Parker said once he’d finished.
“Uh,” was all Mason could think of to say.
“You want that orange?” Parker pointed at the piece of fruit.
“Uh, no.” Mason had bought extra fruit, but had forgotten to get more soda. Fortunately Parker didn’t ask for anything to drink.
“Cool.” Parker leaned close to Mason before taking hold of the orange.
The slight pressure of bare flesh on his arm did nothing to ease the tightness in Mason’s underwear. Swallowing a groan of pleasure, Mason continued to stare straight ahead.
“Warm for September, isn’t it?” Mason could have kicked himself for the banality of his statement.
Swallowing the segment of orange he’d been sucking, Parker turned his grey eyes upon Mason, the glint of playful mischief in them, causing Mason’s stomach to flutter.
“Pray don’t talk to me about the weather, Mr. Worthing. Whenever people do that, I always feel quite certain they mean something else.”
It took Mason a couple of seconds to process what Parker had said. He stared stupidly at the gorgeous athlete.
“It’s a line from The Importance Of Being Earnest.” At Mason’s continuing look of incomprehension, Parker said, “It’s a play by an English dude called Oscar Wilde. We’re doing it in English.”
“Oh, right.” Mason was forced to do a rapid re-evaluation of Parker. He’d labeled him a dumb jock, passing each grade purely on his athletic ability.
“It’s a cool play. Those stuck up English dudes always trying to put one over on each other.”
“Um, yeah, right.” Mason thought he’d been dropped into an episode of The Twilight Zone.
“Yeah, well.” Parker looked down at the ground, Mason noticing the handsome face had become tinged with red. “Gotta get movin’. See ya around,” Parker said, squeezing Mason’s shoulder before standing up.
The contact, even though it was through a layer of cotton, made Mason’s skin tingle. Waiting until Parker had walked away, Mason reached up and ran his fingertips over the place where Parker had touched him.
“This is too fucking weird,” Mason said out loud.
Dusting the stray crumbs from his pants, Mason realized Parker hadn’t said that they’d be sharing lunch the next day. The possibility that they wouldn’t was surprisingly unsettling.
Mason needn’t have worried, however. No sooner had he settled himself under his tree Friday lunchtime and opened his packet of sandwiches, when Parker showed up.
“What’s on the menu today, bud?”
Mason tilted his hea
d upward. “Uh…” A vision of his six feet two inch jerk-off idol looking as though he’d been poured into his Umbro T-shirt, flexing his bulging biceps, stood looking down at him. Mason speculated the seams of the already tight T-shirt were in serious danger of giving up the unequal struggle.
Mason was forced to swallow before he could resume speaking. “I’ve, uh, just got PBJ today. They didn’t have much at the snack bar and I kinda…”
“Cool,” Parker said, sitting down, cutting short Mason’s ramblings.
Parker lifted the thickly cut sandwich and began to chew.
“Are you, uh, playing tonight?” Mason asked, stealing a quick glance at his dining companion before averting his eyes.
“‘Course. The Falcons couldn’t win if I weren’t there.”
Mason smiled at the jock’s cocky attitude. He shifted, as his penis began to plump. “Yeah, but there was that game last season against St Patrick’s when you were injured in the first quarter, but we still managed to scrape through.”
Parker stopped chewing and stared curiously at Mason. “I’d forgotten about that. So, ya coming to watch me? Should be a close game, but I reckon we can beat North Side if we stick to coach’s game plan.”
“You want me to go?” Mason couldn’t believe what Parker had just said.
“‘Course. Why not?”
“Um, okay. I’d, um love to,” Mason said, trying not to gush.
Once he’d finished chewing his sandwich, Mason dared to sneak a quick glimpse at Parker. Noticing the chiseled chin had a smear of grape jelly adhering to it, he warred with himself over what to do. He so wanted to lean forward to lick Parker’s jaw clean, but he quickly pushed away that fantasy. Instead he pointed to his own chin and said, “You missed a spot.”
Parker smiled as he wiped away the errant food.
“Better get off to class, got to finish my homework before Mrs. Harris puts us to sleep,” Parker said, interrupting Mason’s musings.
Mason watched as Parker gracefully unfolded his long limbs and stood up, towering over him, the early afternoon sun creating a halo around his medium-length blond hair. Mason found it difficult to breathe.
“Get a seat at the front on the forty yard line. You’ll get a good view from there.” Not waiting for a response, Parker turned and ambled away, Mason’s eyes fixed on the globes of ass flesh in Parker’s tight pants.
Once Parker was out of sight, Mason let out the breath he’d been inadvertently holding before adjusting his aching boner.
* * * *
Mason found himself swept up in all the excitement and razzmatazz of the pre-game entertainment. He watched as the cheerleaders took the field enthusiastically waving their pompoms to the accompaniment of the school band. Much to his surprise, he was enjoying himself, and the game hadn’t even begun.
Even though he’d seen a number of professional and college games on TV, he was still surprised at the many stoppages in play.
Number 82 seemed to be on the field for most of the game, Mason had to restrain himself from leaping up every time Parker was tackled. He could have sworn several of them were late hits. Mason’s cup of joy overflowed when Parker scored a touchdown in the third quarter. Even the ebullient announcer seemed to increase his level of excitement when he announced Parker’s achievement. Mason found himself on his feet cheering loudly, but then so were many of the other home fans. Parker and his team mates congratulated each other in the end zone with high fives and helmet pats. As he ran back to the bench on the sidelines, he took off his helmet and waved in Mason’s direction. Mason couldn’t help but think the gesture was meant just for him. It felt odd to be sitting amid his fellow students, many of them female. He soon realized they were girlfriends and family members of the players. Mason couldn’t decide if this excited him or made him feel uneasy.
Though he found the game interesting, he didn’t think he would ever become a dedicated fan. He was kind of relieved when the game was over; he’d grown cold sitting on the bleachers. He had to admit that other than Parker’s being on the field, he had enjoyed the half time performance by the marching band and the view of the buns of the players in their tight pants more than the game itself. The game, which had been tightly fought, the lead changing hands a number of times, ended in a 24-21 victory for the Falcons. The game was won by a last minute field goal set up by Parker catching a pass and running it to the twenty yard line. Then they ran three more plays to run down the clock and keep the opposition from gaining possession. Despite football not being his sport of choice, he had to admit the Falcons were one hell of a team.
The band struck up an enthusiastic rendition of the school’s fight song as the team began to leave the field. Parker stayed behind to accept more of the crowd’s appreciation of his efforts. Jumping the players’ bench at the forty yard line, he came to the stands and yelled to Mason. “Wanna go and get something to eat later?”
“Uh,” Mason didn’t know what to say.
“If you haven’t got anything else to do, or…” Parker seemed somehow nervous.
“Yeah, sure.” Mason tried to play down how joyful he felt.
Parker’s face lit up in a wide smile. “Can you hang for half an hour, then come round to the locker-room exit?”
“Sure.” Mason couldn’t help returning the smile.
“Cool,” Parker said, turning to follow the last few of his team members off the field.
* * * *
The next half hour passed slowly for Mason. He was barely aware of the crowd dispersing around him. As he continued to sit there, his mind tried to figure out what the hell was happening. Why had Parker gone out of his way the past few days to befriend him? He’d long since abandoned the idea that Parker was going to pulverize him. He tried not to view the invitation to get something to eat as more than it was. Parker just wanted to eat with him, maybe pay him back for the past few lunchtimes. The warm, tingly feeling that ran through his veins at the thought of spending time with Central High’s best looking athlete went a long way in banishing the chill that had seemed to settle over the now empty bleachers.
There was a fair amount of activity around the exit to the locker room, players emerging, slapping one another on the back and generally horsing around in boyish machismo.
Eventually the double doors opened and Parker emerged to loud appreciation from his fellow jocks. He slapped a few backs, but seemed distracted as he scanned the small, but enthusiastic, crowd. Mason felt his heart speed up when their eyes locked and Parker began to make his way toward him.
“Glad you waited, bud,” Parker said, slinging an arm around Mason’s shoulders. “Hey, listen up, dudes. This is my new bud, Mason Grant. He’s on the soccer team, but we won’t hold that against him.”
“Hey!” Mason was surprised Parker knew which sport he played, they’d never discussed soccer during their lunchtime meetings.
Mason received cautious greetings and gentle jibes from the other members of the football team as Parker introduced him around, his arm never moving from its comfortable resting place across Mason’s shoulders.
“Park, you gonna come with us to Fran Baker’s? Her folks are out of town and she’s throwing a party.”
“I’m wacked out, dude. Just gonna crash tonight.”
“Park, you gotta go, man. Shit, there’ll be loads of pussy for the taking.”
“Sorry, bud. Next time maybe. And I wouldn’t wanna muscle in on your chances of scorin’, ‘cause if I was there, none of you ladies would have a chance of gettin’ any.”
“Yeah, right,” a chorus of voices announced.
“Later,” Parker said before steering Mason in the direction of the parking lot.
“You okay?” Mason asked, seeing that Parker was limping.
“Yeah, just a little banged up.”
“I noticed how the other team seemed to single you out a lot.”
“Yeah, they know I’m the game maker for us, and if they can take me down, then they’re more likely to win.�
�
“I was surprised the officials didn’t do anything about it.”
Parker shrugged. “That’s football. Not like the pansy-assed game you play.”
Mason stopped walking. He’d hoped Parker wouldn’t be like all the other football jocks, always putting down soccer as a lesser sport.
“I’m sorry, bud, it’s hanging around those meatheads too much I guess,” Parker said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at the locker-room exit. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me?” Parker followed up with a shy smile, which instantly melted Mason’s heart.
They resumed their walk.
“Soccer’s more about skill and tactics, not physical dominance, and…”
“It’s cool,” Parker said squeezing Mason’s shoulders.
Stopping next to a somewhat beat up and rusting pick-up truck, Parker tried to flip his duffle bag into the truck bed, but winced at the effort.
“You sure you’re all right? Didn’t you get the coach or someone to look at your injuries?”
“Nah,” Parker said, finally achieving his goal.
“Okay, sorry.”
“Hey, dude, it’s great that you care.” The look Parker gave Mason caused the latter’s heart to swell. Could Parker mean it in that way, could he be interested in him, could he…Stop it! Mason said to himself.
“Wanna grab a burger or something, maybe go through the drive-through line so I can get back to my place and have a soak?”
“Uh, sure, whatever you say.”
“What are you in the mood for? Mickey D’s, Wendy’s?”
“Don’t mind.” Mason didn’t care, so long as he could spend more time with Parker.
“Wendy’s it is then. Their chili rocks.”
“Yeah,” Mason said, knowing he hated chili.
“Come on, get in. I’m starved.”
Reaching the head of the line at the drive-through, Parker asked what Mason wanted. Getting the impression Parker would be the one paying, Mason said he’d just have a regular cheeseburger.
“The hell you will. Speaking into the microphone, Parker said, “A double Wendy’s burger with the works. And a bacon and cheese baked potato and large chili.”
