The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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"For The Love Of Michael" 06 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Right before heading into swim practice, Jim Hart and his goonies cornered Dean Savage.
"So, what's this about you kissing Michael Malkovich?"
"I didn't kiss him."
"Don't sass with me Savage!"
Hart's two thugs, Scotty Bingham and Jeff Stocker were getting entirely too close for comfort. Dean tensed his stomach muscles, waiting for the slip of a fist.
"Problem here, fellas?"
His `knight in shining armor' showed in the nick of time!
"No problem," Hart acknowledged.
Clicking his fingers with a snap, Scotty and Jeff followed Jim Hart inside the gym door.
"How come you don't stand up to those creeps?"
"I don't have the money you have!"
Dean ducked inside the gym. The three thugs were no where to be found. He went straight to his locker, dialing the combination.
"I guess I embarrassed you, huh?"
Worse than the pat on the elbow, Michael's hand on Dean's shoulder, shot thousands of more watts!
"No, you didn't."
"Look, I'm sorry about the kiss too. I didn't mean anything by it... I mean..."
Michael then senses the opposite.
"You what?"
"I mean I did. I mean I did, but I didn't."
"Did what?"
"I meant I did think something before I did it, but didn't mean to do it in front of everybody. I'm sorry."
Turning around, Dean slams his locker door, his swim suit clutched in his hand.
"I'm kind of not sorry."
"You're not? Why not?"
Pressure was building inside Dean. He thought about what Juan said at lunch. He sensed he wanted to know the truth.
"Michael," he recalls Juan's explanation, "a guy doesn't kiss a guy only because he likes him."
Dean didn't realize he was accusing, insinuating at the same time.
"Are you saying you think I..." Michael gulped. "I love you?"
"I didn't say that."
"Why not? I mean...."
For the first time in his life, Michael was all flustered. He didn't have all the answers.
Going for broke, Dean asks, "Michael, do you love me?"
"Do I love you?"
Like an idiot, Michael stood there, gawking.
"Just like I figured," Dean said sarcastically.
Walking out of the lockerroom, into the room with the heated pool, Dean steps off the edge. Too late he realizes what he's holding in his hand!
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Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.