Hey guys! Sorry for the long delay, I wish I had a good excuse but I don't. College consumed my life and then grad school. It's over now though, I randomly checked the account I used for this story and saw literally hundreds of emails from you guys over the last few years and I was so shocked. It inspired me to pick back up and finish the story.
Again, if you're a minor, go do something that minors do and come back in a few years.
I love the emails you guys send. I always end up having the most random conversations, I love it. Send all questions, comments, thoughts, perceptions and concerns to Tylersaysgo@yahoo.com
Thanks for your continued support.
Walking home, I replay Mitch's words in my head over and over again.
"Honestly, I think I love her," echoes in my head, drawing tears to the corners of my eyes. I don't know how I managed to get out of the orchestra room and away from Mitch without the pain of those words being plastered on my face. I cross over the street and walk down my street to go home leaving the events of the day behind.
I walk through the door and set my backpack down and walk into the kitchen to see my mother behind the island with a massive spoon and a suspiciously almost empty carton of ice cream. She looks up as I walk up to the bar to sit down. She immediately notices my mood and gets out a second spoon and sits the spoon and the ice cream down in front of me. She proceeds to walk around the bar and kisses me on the cheek and says, "you look like you need this more than me."
She exits the kitchen and I hear her high heels click on the hardwood to her bedroom. I look down at the ice cream and draw in a long breath and exhale in a big huff and begin eating. The great thing about my mother is she never pushes. She always knows when I don't want to talk, and I couldn't be more grateful for her perceptiveness. I am just one Mitch related comment from breaking down and would like to maintain any semblance of self-respect that I have left.
I eventually get the motivation to head up to my room and start my homework. Grateful for any distraction to keep my mind at bay. I am half way through my earth science homework when I hear my phone emit a loud rendition of Sk8er boi' by Avril Lavigne. Juliette and I assigned Mitch that ringtone years ago on my phone because he secretly works out to Avril because he states she gets me pumped up' but she and I both know he secretly loves her and owns all of her albums.
I hold the phone in my hand for a long moment, debating on answering. I have never screened Mitch's calls, and decide I shouldn't start now all because I didn't get my way. I flip open the phone and greet him with a "Hey Mitch."
"Hey man, what are you up to," Mitch inquires.
"Not a whole lot, finishing up this ridiculous Earth Science homework. Like who actually cares about the composition of rocks from a million years ago," I say, trying to keep my tone light and joking.
"I hear you bro, Mrs. Gore is trying to get me to understand mitosis, and the only thing she has managed to do telephase my attention to another planet," he says chuckling.
"That has to be the worst attempt at a biology joke I've ever heard," I say laughing.
He laughs, "yeah, I'll stick to football. Speaking of which, some of the team is coming over tonight to eat pizza and hangout, you want to come?"
I think it over a moment, I have been distant lately, and after our exchange in the orchestra room, where I somewhat admitted to feeling replaced, but omitting that I was being torn apart on the inside because of seeing him with Morgan, I realize he is reaching out to spend more time with me in an attempt to make me feel lessÉreplaced.
"Sure," I reply. "What time?"
"The guys are getting here a little later, but you can come on over now," he says. "Alright, on my way," I say, hanging up.
I walk down the stairs to my mom who is in the living room watching some ridiculous medical drama and yelling at the screen, "YOU CANNOT SHOCK ASYSTOLE, JESUS CHRIST." I sit down on the couch beside her and start tying my shoes.
"Where are you headed," she asks.
"Over to Mitch's house, some guys are coming over from the team and he invited me," I say while tying my shoes and simultaneously watching the scene on TV unfold.
"Alright, don't drink and drive," she says as I get up. I roll my eyes for several reasons. The first, I don't get my license until next year. The second, I don't have a car. The third, Mitch's house is a literally 3 streets over.
I start walking to the front door opening it and walking out onto the porch when I hear my mom yelling at the tv again, "OH MY GOD. YOU CALL THOSE COMPRESSIONS?" I laugh to myself and continue down the front steps and down the drive to make my way to Mitch's house.
I walk in his house a few minutes later, and yell a greeting to Mrs. Spake who is in the kitchen baking. She returns my greeting and adds, "He's up in his room, dear."
I make my way up the stairs and open Mitch's bedroom door. I walk in his room to see him coming out of his bathroom with just boxers on and a towel over his head with his hands rubbing it back and forth over his hair. I falter with my greeting at the sight in front of me. Mitch is seriously one good looking guy. He has thick arms that are defined when resting by his sides, but seem incredibly muscular when they are being used to towel dry his hair. He has thick solid pectoral muscles that aren't overly defined, but just the right amount of beefy. He has a flat stomach that is not chiseled like his dad's body builder physique, but lightly defined. His abdomen has a subtle V taper line into his boxers. His legs are massive. His quads look powerful and thick and he walks over to his dresser to pull out some clothes. My greeting gets caught in my throat and I cough. He pulls the towel off of his head and looks over at me, "oh hey man, didn't hear you come in," he says.
He turns back around to find clothes to wear and I snap myself out of this stupor. This is going to get me caught, I think to myself.
"Sorry, didn't know you were doing an underwear model catwalk routine in here or I would have knocked," I say jokingly.
He laughs and says, "Please, you have seen me naked almost as much as I have seen myself naked."
I laugh and move over towards his stereo looking for music to put on. It was true, we grew up together and Mitchell was always confident in everything he did, including his body and had no qualms with being naked in front of his best friend. It was never sexual and I always turned way out of respect. However recently, I have been mostly unable to look away, and realizing this could get me caught staring, I have tried to remove and minimize the situations in which I would be in a room with a naked Mitch.
Mitch's phone goes off, indicating he had a text message. I watch him as he picks up the phone and smiles. He begins texting a response to the sender and keeps a smirk on his face.
"I take it that would be a girl of the blonde variety, possibly named Morgan, judging by that smirk on your face," I say, trying to reign in my jealousy. He looks up at me and nods an affirmative and says, "dude she is so amazing. I can't believe I am this lucky."
I just do a half smile and turn around focusing my attention on the ipod connected to the stereo. Mitch seems to notice my poor attempt at subtly turning around to hide my expression.
"You really don't like her do you," Mitch asks irritably.
"It's not that Mitch," I say trying to diffuse Mitch before the situation get out of hand.
"Well then what is it James? Because you haven't even tried getting to know her and you've been avoiding everyone for weeks," He says in a frustrated tone.
"I know I have, and I'm sorry," I say meekly.
Mitch seems to deflate at my admission and lets out a long sigh, stating, "I just want to know whats going on with you man, you're my best friend."
He looks at me for a long while and I mentally debate on telling him. My lips go to form the first word of the sentence, but a voice from downstairs interrupts my admission.
"Mitchie, your friends are here!" Mrs. Spake yells up the stairs.
A few seconds later multiple footsteps coming up the stairs, closely resembling what I imagine a stampede sounds like, and Mitch's football buddies come in the room.
"Yeah Mitchie, we're here, put your dick away," Lucas says mocking the nickname his mother calls him as he walks in the room.
Mitch turns and greets the with a, "you wish you could see my dick Lucas."
I swallow all of the truths I was about to admit to Mitch and shut all of the welling emotion down. I turn and watch the interactions take place in front of me. Andrew walks through the door and walks over next to me and elbows my lightly and gives me a small smile.
The night went on without a hitch after that. I laughed when I was supposed to laugh. I went along with all of Mitch's stories. I participated in the antics of the guys. Everyone eventually left and it was just Mitch and I left in his room. Mitch was laid out on the floor beside his bed rubbing his stomach and moaning about eating too much pizza. I was laying on his bed staring up at ceiling laughing at his dramatics. It was a comfortable time, like the way things used to be. I rolled over to the side of the bed, and looked down at Mitch, and said, "Thanks for inviting me, Mitch."
Mitch quit rubbing his stomach and looked up at me and smiled, "I'm glad you came. I've missed you these past few weeks," he says, then quietly adding, "I need my best friend man."
I lay there quietly for a minute, registering the hurt and confusion in his tone, and after a minute I just extended my arm over the side of the bed where he was laying in the floor and made a fist. A few seconds later I felt his fist bump mine. I smiled to myself and got off the bed, stretching and making a loud groaning noise.
"Alright man, I'm gonna head to the house," I say still stretching.
Mitch stands up from the floor and says, "I'll walk you out."
We both head downstairs and I say goodbye to his mom and dad and we speak to Juliette for a bit and then Mitch and I step out on the front porch of his house. Mitch turns to me after shutting the front door and says, "I know something is bothering you, and you aren't ready to talk about it, but I just want you to know that I am here man. It hurts to see you becoming so distant and withdrawn."
I study his shadowed face in the darkness, the dim porch light masks most of his features, but I can see the bright blue of his eyes and I can see the worry in them. He truly is a beautiful guy. His eyes continue to stare through me and I have to break eye contact. I turn slightly looking out into the darkness and whisper, "I'll tell you, but not tonight. I'm not ready."
Mitch deflates somewhat and looks down, but looks back up seconds later with a small nod. He places his large hand on my shoulder and gives it a small squeeze and proceeds to say, "goodnight," and walks back into the house and I start the short walk back to my own home.
As I walk through the front door, my Mom and Dad were both sitting in the living room, legs tangled up in each other as they watch late night TV, my dads guilty pleasure. I walk over and kiss them both on the cheek and say goodnight. I walk upstairs to my room and stop in the doorway, I survey my room, it's large, but somehow manages to feel cozy. I have a Queen size bed that sits up on a platform off in the far left corner of the room. There are 5 stairs leading up to the bed which is currently unmade. The dark grey and black striped duvet hangs haphazardly off the bottom corner of the bed. There are a few items of clothing spread out on the floor, but I am too exhausted to do anything about the disarray of my room, but instead turn the lights out and head over to my bed to pass out.
Its 2 in the morning when I hear a creak and a noise that sounds like wood sliding against wood. It takes a second for my sleep addled brain to register that the sound I heard is my window opening, and before I can even sit up and look around the smell of Versace cologne and Irish spring soap reach my nose. Mitch. Seconds later I felt the bed dip down beside me and the sound of shoes hitting the floor after being removed and falling from a small distance. I simply slide over against the wall in my regular spot when Mitch stays over and turn back the covers. I hear the sound of fabric being pulled up and tossed aside a few seconds later then the warmth radiating against my back several inches away.
It was not unusual for this to happen, Mitch and I had sleepovers all the time. However, what was unusual was Mitch sneaking through my window at 2 in the morning.
He is silent for a long while, I could only hear the sounds of his breathing. After a long while he whispers, "I am worried about you, I just wanted to make sure you were ok."
I lay still for a long moment, taking in what he had just said. Then I scoot backwards until my back is pressed against his chest. I feel his whole body go rigid, but I don't care, I am too tired to think of the repercussions. After several minutes he relaxes and puts an arm around my chest and I drift off to sleep.