Omorphi (4 page)

A cherry-red flush rushed up Michael’s neck and came to full bloom in his face, and Jake burst into laughter. “Call me later and let me know you’re okay. Good luck, bro.”

Michael watched Jake walk away. Jake
had
taken care of him all his life. And he was right. Michael needed to pay attention to what went on around him.

He looked up into the stands and found Christy watching him intently. When their eyes met, Christy turned away quickly. Man, he’d wanted to talk to Christy since the day he ran into him, literally, but hadn’t been able to work up the courage.

Two months ago, Michael had been on his way to class early one morning when he realized he’d left his English Lit essay in the car. He turned abruptly to go back to the parking lot and ran smack into Christy. He tripped, nearly sending them both to the ground, and quickly caught Christy’s arm to steady him.

“Sorry, man, didn’t see you.”

Then Michael did. Christy’s eyes had sparkled in the bright morning sun like the crystal waters of the Caribbean. Mesmerized, Michael hadn’t been able to prevent the words that tumbled from his lips. “Your eyes are amazing.” A shy smile had flashed on Christy’s heavenly visage and, after a beat, uncertainty filled his eyes. Embarrassed, Michael blurted, “Sorry, man.” Christy had only nodded and walked away. Since that fateful morning, pretty Christy had been the object of Michael’s desire, making nightly appearances in his dreams and wreaking havoc with his, well, you know.

Michael had made it his mission to find out everything he could about Christy, which was nothing because, as Jake pointed out, no one knew a thing. But for the fact that Mrs. Thomas, the headmaster’s secretary, called after Christy one day and Michael just happened to be nearby, he wouldn’t even know Christy’s first name.

Michael wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts and was surprised to find that his usual confidence had fled him. He looked around and flexed his fingers as he wavered in indecision, carefully weighing his options. There was no one left on the field.
Man up, Michael. Get your ass in gear.
Sometimes Michael wanted to choke the little voice in his head. Blowing a long, nervous breath, he climbed the bleachers, watching the placement of his feet as he headed in Christy’s direction.

“H
EY
,”
Michael greeted as he reached the top bleacher.

Christy sat perfectly poised, almost majestic, as he looked up at Michael. His large, crystal, cyan eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun, and Michael knew, without a doubt, he’d never seen eyes so pretty. He set his bag aside and sat down. Not too close to Christy, but close enough to send his mind on a high-speed tour of his dreams. He slammed the door on his imagination and looked out over the field in an effort to calm his jangled nerves. Normally he could talk to anyone, but now…. Christy was so damn pretty…. He’d never been so tongue-tied, so nervous, so damn… scared.
Oh my God, Michael, knock it off. The guy’s probably as straight as an arrow.
That’s right, stupid little voice, bash all my hopes and dreams. Shut up and tell me how to start a conversation with someone who doesn’t speak.

After several moments, Christy’s soft touch on Michael’s arm gave him a start and sent heat coursing through his veins. His body did awkward things. Exciting things. Embarrassing things. He pulled the sweatshirt from his neck and shoved it into his lap.

Christy offered Michael a small notepad with a paint-spattered hand. Michael saw crimson, cerulean, and something that might have been lemon. He took the pad from Christy’s outstretched hand. There, written in nearly perfect print, was
Thank you for saying I’m pretty
.

Christy had overheard their conversation. Worse yet, now Christy knew Michael was gay.
Crap! Nothing like accidentally outing myself.
Michael’s pulse raced, his heart pounded in his throat, and he didn’t dare look at Christy.
Be easy, Michael. It isn’t the end of the world.
Who was the stupid little voice kidding?

Michael reread Christy’s words, and understanding slowly dawned on him.
No way is the guy gay. No way could I be so lucky.
Michael had no idea how to tell and silently cursed his gaydar for being so freakin’ lame. He couldn’t even tell his own kind.
Bleak.
Michael breathed deeply and fought to organize his addled mind. “You aren’t….” His voice cracked.
So much for cool.
He cleared his throat. “You aren’t freaked that I’m gay?”

Christy reached over and scribbled
No
.

Drawing on his flagging courage, Michael lifted his gaze. Thick, white-gold ringlets framed Christy’s saintly face and cascaded down his back. Michael took in the high cheekbones, the perfect, Cupid’s-bow lips, and the smooth golden skin. Christy had a face that would make an angel weep. Propriety aside, Michael wanted to ravish him.
Damn, Michael, get a freakin’ grip.

As if he’d read Michael’s thoughts, Christy’s eyes twinkled with knowledge. He took the pad from Michael and scribbled
You are hot
.

Michael flushed crimson, his throat went dry, and he turned away.
Oh. My. God. He thinks I’m hot!
Mustering what was left of his feeble courage, Michael turned back to Christy, his eyes drifting to Christy’s perfect lips. Lips he’d dreamed of kissing a thousand times over. He rubbed a sweaty palm on a thigh and dared to say, “You’re gay.” He made it a statement, not a question, hoping to sound more confident than he felt.

Christy nodded once.

Yes!
A grin hijacked Michael’s mouth, and he felt positively giddy. “Cool.”

Christy’s expressive eyes twinkled again.

“Do you mind if I, ah, ask why you don’t speak?”

Christy’s face darkened, all glimmer lost.

Smooth, Michael, real smooth
. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Sorry.”

Christy looked out at the distant horizon, and Michael studied the perfect profile, the large, blond ringlets, and the cheek that graduated to a mouth made for kissing. A mouth Michael wanted to kiss right
now
.

After a long moment, Christy removed his scarf, unwinding it slowly to reveal an ugly, red scar. A thick line ran from ear to ear, bisecting his long, pale neck. The edges of it were sort of crinkly and rough, and it faded from deep rose to light pink to a creamy white like the inside of a seashell.

“Jesus,” Michael breathed.

Christy looked away.

“Sorry.” Michael didn’t know what else to say.

Christy turned back to Michael and shrugged, then scribbled
Will speak when healed
. He smiled, sudden and bright, and quickly jotted
Crush?

That unfamiliar shyness filled Michael again. “Did you hear everything we said?”

Christy nodded again.

“All the way up here?”

Christy scribbled
Echo when field is empty
.

Michael groaned inwardly and tried to recall everything they’d said about Christy and Wellington.

Christy scribbled
True?

Heat flushed Michael’s face again, and he looked away. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Christy’s fingertips whispered over Michael’s arm, and he turned to find the pad held up, hiding Christy’s beautiful face.
Me too
.

Something resembling a giggle bubbled up from Michael’s throat.
What the hell?
He never giggled.

Christy lowered the pad until his beautiful eyes showed.

“Is that why you follow me around?”

He shook his head and wrote
Spying. Didn’t know if you were queer for certain
.

“Well… I guess you don’t have to spy anymore.”

Christy held Michael’s gaze for a long moment before leaning in, his lips hovering just above Michael’s, but a breath away, and time stopped.

Ohmygod.
Christy wasn’t seriously going to kiss him, was he?
No way! We just met!

Though Michael had kissed more girls than he cared to remember, he had only ever dreamed of kissing a guy. Fear and desire warred within, adrenaline and hormones fighting a colossal battle in Michael’s body. He couldn’t take it and began to lean away. Not fast enough. Christy placed a chaste, lingering kiss on Michael’s lips. It was soft. Warm. Delicious.

Michael shivered, and his traitorous body made itself even more known. He tried to be cool as he pressed the sweatshirt deeper into his lap. He nervously licked his lower lip and thought he tasted watermelon. “Ah, what was that for?”

Christy shrugged and jotted
Wanted to do it for a long time
.

So had Michael, but….

Christy scribbled
Bye
and wrapped the scarf around his neck.

I get a kiss, then a bye? That’s it?
“Do you want to meet before school tomorrow?”

Christy scribbled
Lunch?

“Do you know where our lunch table is?”

Christy rolled his eyes.

That returned a smile to Michael’s face. “Of course you do. See you at lunch tomorrow, then?”

Christy scribbled
Yes!

Michael giggled. Okay, the giggle thing needed to stop.

Christy stood and, for the first time, Michael realized just how small he was. He couldn’t have been more than five two.

Christy pocketed his pad and pen and offered a small wave before descending the bleachers.

Michael sat in stunned silence as he watched Christy walk across the field.
A guy kissed me. The prettiest guy in the world kissed me. I don’t freakin’ believe it!

“H
EY
,
how’d it go?”

“He’s gay!” Michael shouted into his Bluetooth as he drove.

Jake cracked up. “Tell me all about it.”

“He said he has a crush on me too!”

Jake laughed again. “What do you mean, he said? Can he talk?”

“Did you hear what I said, Jake? He has a crush on
me too!
”

“I heard you, bro, I did. Does he speak?”

“No, he writes everything down on a little pad. Are you listening to me?”

“I’m listening. Did you find out why he doesn’t speak?”

“Yeah, he has this wicked scar on his neck. You should see it, Jake. It’s horrible. It looks like someone tried to strangle him. He says he’ll be able to talk when it gets better.”

“Did he tell you what happened to him?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. Jake?”

“What?”

“He kissed me.”

Jake was silent.

“Are you still there?”

“Yeah, man, I’m just speechless. He actually kissed you?”

“Yes! It was just a little kiss, like a peck on the lips. No, it was more than that. It was like a slow peck on the lips. It was, I don’t know, a sweet kiss. And his lips tasted like watermelon.”

“Watermelon?”

“I swear it, Jake! Watermelon!”

“No way!”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Wouldn’t think of it. He kissed you already? Why?”

“What do you mean, why? He likes me and thinks I’m hot. You think someone can’t like me?”

“No, bro, you’re plenty likeable. I’m just messing with you.”

“Jake, can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t tease me about this.”

“Word.”

“It’s my first kiss. From a guy, I mean.”

“No, it isn’t. You kissed that geek, Darryl, in sixth grade.”

“No, I didn’t. Well, yeah, I did, but I kissed his cheek. It’s not the same, and he didn’t kiss me back.”

“What about, what was that kid’s name in eighth grade? The one who always wore a belt two sizes too big for him?”

“Brian? We never kissed. We held hands for an afternoon, and then he got all weird and insecure on me. Jake, really, this was my first kiss.”

“Well, then, congrats. I’m happy for you.”

“He’s my first boyfriend, Jake!”

“You can’t tell a thing like that after just one kiss.”

“You said you were in love with Kelly after your first kiss, and you were only in ninth grade.”

Jake laughed again. “Okay, it’s possible. Are we going to see him at our table tomorrow?”

“How’d you know?”

“’Cause I know you, bro. Congrats, again.”

“What do you think I should wear tomorrow?”

“Clothes.”

“Jake! You gotta help me out here! I dressed you for a whole month after you met Kelly!”

Jake chuckled. “Yeah, you did. Okay, wear jeans and the green silk shirt. It brings out the green in your eyes.”

“Do you think silk is too much? I don’t want him to think I’m trying to impress him.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want it to look like I am.”

“Okay, how about that olive green, long-sleeved tee.”

“It’s April, Jake! The snow’s melted. I don’t need long sleeves. He’ll think I’m hiding something.”

“Doubt it. What other green shirts do you have?”

“I’ll wear the T-shirt from last summer’s jazz festival. It’s green with little saxophones and French horns on it. Do you think I should get a haircut?”

“Your hair’s fine. I’d shave extra close tomorrow, though.”

“Why? You don’t like the metro look?”

“I do, but you’ll be bordering on rural by tomorrow. I’d check that ear hair too.”

“I don’t have ear hair!”

“Just messing with you, bro, but you do have that one unruly sprout between the brows. Make sure you pluck that sucker.”

“Damn. Thanks for reminding me. Okay, which jelly bracelets?”

“I don’t remember what all the colors mean.”

“C’mon, Jake, they represent really important things! I have two yellows, one for soldier support, and the other for suicide prevention. I have a blue for no bullying, an indigo for targeted individuals of bullying awareness and systematic harassment and stalking, and three purples for Spirit Day, child neglect awareness, and animal cruelty awareness. I also have a pink and blue for genital integrity, a green one for environmental protection, two teals, one for sexual assault and sexual violence awareness and the other for anti-bullying, and a silver one for depression awareness. I also just picked up a purple NOH8 one. You think thirteen is too much?”