As with many of my stories this is based on a real life encounter, though I've embellished some details for the sake of narrative. All participants are 18 or older.
***
God damn I hated Adam. We grew up several houses apart in a typically awful suburb of a typically awful small city in the middle of bum-fuck Pennsylvania. We were the same age but a grade apart (he got held back a year) and not friends. Not being friends is one thing, being antagonistically bullying and hateful toward me was something else.
Adam had a huge chip on his shoulder. Several chips really. Shitty home life and an older brother who was clearly the favored son, and anything Adam did to try to follow in his brother's footsteps he did half-assed. Average student at best (his brother was valedictorian), was on the football team - which normally equaled instant cred in our town - but was a third-string offensive tackle (his brother was the star quarterback). His brother worked at the most popular restaurant in town, and Adam was a grease monkey at a car rental place.
Adam was also deeply, overtly hostile to just about everybody, me in particular. I don't even think it was because he suspected I was gay, rather he was just a horrible person. I'd try to avoid him at the bus stop but at least every other day he'd say something shitty. Looking back on it now I realize it wasn't just me, it just felt like it was because that's what part of being a teenager is all about. And he'd been a nasty piece of work toward me ever since we were little. I mostly just tried to ignore him and stay out of his way.
One chilly fall morning at the start of my senior year and his junior things got heated. I was waiting for the school bus with the rest of the neighborhood kids. I had my headphones in, eyes in a book, minding my own business, and Adam just out of nowhere shoves me to the ground and yelled, "Faggot."
I'm not a fighter, by nature or physique (it wasn't until I discovered these cool things called weights in college that I started to transform my slim, wiry frame into the kind of body I'd actually like to fuck). But I was also a senior now, was tired of his shit, just wanted to be left alone until I graduated, and get the hell out of this godforsaken town. I ripped my headphones off and for the first time ever got right up in Adam's face and yelled, "What the FUCK is your problem?"
It was an interesting moment for a couple reasons. Firstly because all the blood rushed out of my face... or into it... whatever, I was fired up and terrified at the same time. I realized Adam and I had never actually been this close to each other before. And rather than face to face I was face to forehead. He was shorter than I realized. The third thing I noticed was that while he was a lot shorter he was way bigger. He may have been a shitty football player but he still played football, and wrestled, and played soccer. This was a terrible idea.
Oh, and the other thing I noticed were his eyes. Adam's family was Italian, and he took after his mother - jet black curly hair, pale olive skin, thick eyebrows and surprisingly perpetual five o'clock shadow for an 18 year old. Er, this was his own trait mind you, not one he shared with his mom, but that would have been fantastic because she was as much a piece of work as he was. But I digress. His eyes actually froze me in my tracks for a moment. They weren't just blue, they were crystal blue, like a glacier. I'd never noticed them before. I was always trying to avoid making eye contact with him and inviting more torment. But goddamn those eyes were something else.
And goddamn if those eyes weren't training on me like a falcon toward its prey.
"What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?" Adam hissed at me.
I just stared at him, calculating my next move, predicting all of them ending with fewer teeth than I woke up with.
Adam shoved my shoulders away from him. "Fucking cocksucker."
He was clearly surprised that his shove didn't knock me over. We were both surprised when I swung my right fist and cold cocked him. The next thing I know we were on the ground, slapping and punching, him using all of his wrestling training to his advantage to keep me pinned down. The kids around us were yelling "Fight! Fight!" - why do kids do this? I know all teenagers are assholes but seriously - and I was trying to cover my face to deflect his punches.
That was when I realized he wasn't really hitting me. I mean he most certainly was hitting me, but he was not putting his back into it or coming close to using his full strength. I could tell he weighed a lot more than me because he was on top of me, I was relatively certain the bulk of that weight was muscle, everywhere I hit him - his arms, chest, even his neck - was solid. And while his punches hurt and were scary, for some reason he was clearly holding back.
I finally yelled "Adam, stop it! I don't want to fight."
He leaned back on his haunches, his ass and thighs keeping me pinned to the ground. He wiped the sweat off his brow and looked at me with those icy blue eyes. He opened his mouth to say something and then just shook his head. He climbed up and grabbed his backpack. I collected my things, avoiding eye contact with everyone, put my headphones back on, and tried not to cry.
As I climbed onto the bus something clicked in my brain that made the whole episode even more fucked up. "Pretty boy?" I thought. "What the fuck does that mean?"
A few months later the school semesters changed, and I was finally entering the home stretch to graduation. Part of the routine with the semester changes was that you'd have different versions of the same classes at different times. Gym class, which I hated for all the right reasons, was one of the few classes where they'd combine grades. Freshmen and sophomores together, and juniors with seniors.
To my dismay Adam ended up assigned to my final semester gym class. This was a class I already hated and now I'd have to share it with this asshole, and it was during first period - so every other day I'd get to start my whole day with it. Mind you there were a lot of kids in our gym class, they were the biggest classes in the school, so I thought for the most part I could stay out of his way. And Adam for the most part had stayed out of mine after our fight. It was like he was just waiting for me to fight back and once I did he ignored me. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Springtime usually meant two things, kickball and soccer. Or the dreaded "laps around the soccer field until you puke from the humidity." But on this particular day it was pouring rain, like monsoon heavy, so we got every sadist's favorite: dodgeball.
While I wasn't particularly athletic at this point, I did know I was fast, so I was generally pretty good about the "dodge" part. When it came to throwing the ball I sucked, but if I could hold out as long as possible I could usually manage to avoid the worst of it.
The teacher blew the whistle, the boys ran to the center line to grab the balls, I started running backward to the side (watching where I was going because I wasn't an idiot) and WHAM.
It wasn't just the force of the ball slamming into my chest, it was the surprise. There were, like, 30 guys on my side of the court, and I just got taken out with the precision of a sniper. It actually forced all the air out of my lungs and I dropped to my knees, gasping for breath like an asthma attack.
I looked across the court at my assailant. His feet were apart, my god those are hairy legs, shorts one size too big, white t-shirt with holes worn in it. Built like a brick shithouse. Pale olive skin. No. Oh you're fucking kidding me.
I glared at Adam as I staggered off the court. He had a look on his face that... well, it was strange. I expected either his usual self-satisfied grin or his patented psychopath-in-training glare. He glanced at me a few times and looked, well, sorry. Clearly the oxygen wasn't getting back into my brain fast enough.
The buzzer rang and we all headed to the locker room to change. I had study hall for my next period, so I usually took my time so I could shower alone if possible. I wasn't particularly shy about getting naked, despite not having what I thought was a very sexy body, it was more that I didn't want to run the risk of popping wood around the other guys. Which was extremely likely given I was 18 and incredibly hard up for attention in the dick department. Especially in my desire to give attention to dicks.
It was the usual early morning rush to get cleaned up and changed and off to the next class, there wasn't the kind of horsing around in the locker room that probably happened after sports games. Barely controlled chaos accompanied by steam and the overpowering scent of whatever that soap was. It smelled like stale oranges.
I took my time, slowly undressing while the other guys rushed around me. I wrapped my towel tightly around my waist and walked into a thankfully empty gang shower. The showerheads were all attached to metal poles in the center of the room. I always found that kind of hilarious - that this jock obsessed high school in a homophobic hick town would install showers that ensured every guy would be facing each other.
The water was wicked hot, but I didn't care; I was still chilled from waiting for the bus in a rainstorm, and the hot water was relaxing. I stood under the jet as it blasted the top of my head, closed my eyes, and just tried to clear my mind.
After a few moments I turned around to get the water on my back and just about jumped out of my skin. There was Adam, leaning against the shower partition, still in his gym clothes. Arms crossed. Staring at me. I'd like to say I screamed a manly scream, but it was more like a squeak.
Adam put his hands up, "Sorry, sorry."
"What the hell is wrong with you? How long have you been standing there?"
"Does it matter?"
"What the fuck Adam?"
"Dex, chill! I was just checking to make sure you were okay."
"What?!?"
Adam slowly started walking toward me, his hands outstretched in I-come-in-peace fashion. "I nailed you pretty hard, man. Oh, geez." Adam reached out and touched the dark red circle still on my chest where the ball landed. It looked, and felt, like sunburn. And when he touched my chest I had to do everything to keep my knees from buckling.
"Man," Adam whistled. "Damn I really nailed you big time."
"Proud of yourself?"
He looked at me with utter, sincere confusion. "No. I mean, yeah I knew I wanted to go after you. And I definitely wanted to nail your ass."
I fought the urge to raise an eyebrow. There was no way he was bright enough to be that clever.
"But I didn't mean to hurt you." His finger was still gently tracing the redness on my chest. He was pouting, again with what looked like sincerity. Damn his lips were plump.
Kittens. Think about kittens. No, goats. Think about goats. Nuns. Old nuns. Think about old nuns. Do NOT think about kissing Adam Corsini right now. Down, dick. Down.
"Though, you gotta admit," Adam continued - was he even aware of how close we were standing? "It's kinda awesome that I left my mark on you."
"Awesome?"
"Funny."
"Adam."
