Adam in the Locker Room 1
I knew everything about Adam before I had even met the guy. Although I was much taller than him, he seemed to excel at the sports where my height should have given me an advantage over him. Throughout my high school career, I would run into him every few months when our basketball team or our volleyball team versed his school. While I had hit puberty early and stood at almost 6 feet since the 9th grade, Adam was about 5 ft `8 but with a body that seemed to accentuate every single muscle group under his skin.
While I was certainly muscular and athletic, Adam was leaner, it wasn't that he had more muscle exactly, looking at the two of us next to one another you could tell I was stronger, I was wider, and taller. But there was something about Adam that made him my rival, a sort of comical high school nemesis who I dreaded seeing at the games. I was distracted by his presence during the games, his cocky smile as we made eye contact on the court before the volleyball serve. Looking at his perfect arms with the pulsing veins running up to his boulder-like shoulders, right underneath carrying sweaty armpits filled with a thick light brown haired bush. Every time I went up for a spike or a block, I would find myself looking at his body, praying his shirt would lift up and I could see his tanned skin and sculpture-like abs. I loved seeing the waistline of his briefs, always some cheap brand like Fruit of the Looms or Hanes, which only made it hotter. Just made him the sexy boy next door type.
Now Adam was coming to our school for the last semester of high school. I had heard about it from a group of girls as they giggled about that jock from Riverside high school coming to our school.
I didn't know how to feel. I was excited as hell to be near this sexy athlete, but I was also dreading the competition. Volleyball season had ended with the previous semester, but we still had basketball to look forward to, and I knew Adam would try and get a spot on the team. My place on the team wasn't threatened, I had gained almost star status, but knew I would be upstaged by Adam at some point. I hate to admit it even now, but Adam was a better player than me all around.
While to the casual observer, we were on par, the statistics didn't lie, and an experienced player would be able to see that he had more technique. Sure I was taller and could jump higher, but his serves were always stronger, his spikes better-angled. On the court, he out dribbled me and was known to deke me out often. Sure a few times I had arrogantly stopped his shots and smacked my chest at him, as he had done to me. But overall, there was no denying it, and playing side-by-side I knew it wouldn't be long before the rest of the team realised we had a new star player.
I didn't have to worry too much about the girls situation though. Everyone knew Adam was picky and he was focused on his sports and scholarships. He had gone on a few dates during his early high school career, but at some point he had put all that behind him, which was for the best since girls were practically throwing themselves at him.
I remember his first day at our school during our last semester. I guess not everyone had gotten the message that he would be joining us. So as he strutted down the hallways for the first time with his cocky smirk, girls were doing a double-take, looking at each other and then giggling. To say I was jealous was an understatement. I was a good-looking guy too, but I was more of a small-town kind of good looking, the kind you see in an LL Bean catalogue or some cheap retail store's clothing brand. I was never too insecure about my looks, but Adam looked like he had stepped out of a Calvin Klein underwear shoot. He had gotten a haircut since the last time I saw him, and his dirty blonde hair was brighter than ever, sporting a sort of blonde fauxhawk that was popular at the time. Clean-shaven as always, and just completely aware of the attention he was drawing to himself but also acting completely unaware as he pretended this was just another Monday morning. Thankfully we had uniforms at my school, so he couldn't wear one of his tank tops, but he had made sure to wear the tightest white polo, and he had rolled up the sleeves slightly. He had gotten a workout that morning and had made sure his biceps were pulsing for his debut at our school.
"Son of a bitch", I muttered as he walked past me down the hall. I knew he recognized me, we had only been playing against one another for the last four years. Did he pretend not to know me? Was he too good for me or something? More importantly, why did I care so much?