Twenty-Three
Lance
finally put a hand on Justin's chest and gently pushed him away. “Whoa,” Justin
whispered, leaning his forehead against Lance's.
“Yeah,”
Lance said, then stood up. “That can't happen again.”
“Why
not?” Justin looked up at him, his blue eyes wide. His pink lips were full and
“just been kissed,” and Lance wanted to keep kissing them. “Are you still
thinking about…”
“No.
This has nothing to do with him.” Lance began to pace. “We can't do this
Justin. We're frat brothers, number one. And number two…I just don't do that.”
“Just
don't do what?” Justin was confused.
“I
just don't go around kissing people.”
“Neither
do I,” Justin said, slightly insulted. “Notice how I said I don't have a
boyfriend? I don't have a kissing friend, either.”
“Sorry.”
Lance ran a hand through his hair. “Look, Justin, you're a great guy. Sexy and
nice and funny and talented. But you and I…we're night and day. This can't work
out.”
“Right.”
Justin stood and looked at him sadly. “We wouldn't work out.”
“Right,”
Lance said, nodding. Justin sighed. “I appreciate you coming back early to
check on me and everything.”
“Sure,
no problem. That's what friends do. We ARE friends, right?” Justin asked.
“Sure!” Lance plastered on a smile, which
faded the moment Justin left his room.
Classes
started again, and Lance could barely keep his mind on them. All he could think
about was Justin. He and Justin tried their best to avoid each other, but with
all the frat activities, it was kind of difficult.
Lance
was walking across the quad in his own little world when loud voices shocked
him out of his reverie.
“Oh,
isn't that cute? Little rainbow stickers!” A voice said.
Lance
looked up and saw three members of one of the sports teams encircling a tall,
thin figure. JC. “Give that back,” JC said with a patient sigh. “It's a
notebook. You know, you take notes in it when you go to class? Oh, yeah…I bet
you Neanderthals don't even GO to class.”
“If
we don't, it's to avoid little fairies like you,” one of the men sneered.
Before
he knew what he was doing, Lance approached the group. He was tired of
everything, and that included getting picked on. Even though JC had acted like
an asshole, and even though it wasn't Lance getting picked on, he was fed up.
“I wonder sometimes why we are gay, when I see guys like you,” Lance said as he
walked over. “You're not all that attractive, you don't have three brain cells
to rub together, and I bet your dicks are the size of erasers.”
“Hey!”
Another man said.
“We
could kick your ass,” the first man said.
“Is
that REALLY what you want to do to my ass, Big Boy?” Lance asked with a
flirtatious smile. The man blushed and sputtered. “Come on, JC. You can buy me
a cup of coffee.” Lance grabbed JC by the skinny wrist and led him away.
“Damn!”
JC stared at Lance open mouthed. “Who are you?”
“I'm
not sure,” Lance said, weakly leaning against the wall of the cafeteria. “I
just…I got fed up and had to say something.”
“Dumb
jocks,” JC said, glaring in their general direction.
“Not
all jocks are dumb,” Lance said, and JC stared at him. “Nevermind. You can buy
me my coffee now.”
“Lance,”
JC began.
“Dammit,
JC, shut up and buy the coffee. THEN you can grovel.”
JC
and Lance took a seat in a corner of the room.
