“Good mornin’, what can I do ya for?” the woman asks, her Southern twang making me smile.
“It’s our first day,” Mary and I say at the same time. We look at each other, and I chuckle.
“Y’all’s names?” She turns to a filing cabinet.
“Cohen, Mary and Jonah,” I tell her.
She opens a drawer and digs through the files until she comes up with our school records.
“Mary Cohen,” she reads off the file, flipping it open.
Mary steps forward to the counter.
“Here’s ya class sc’edule, locker number and combination, and a map of the sc’ool.”
“Thank you,” Mary says, grabbing the paperwork she needs and leaving the office without so much as a backward glance.
“And Jonah Cohen, here ya are. Class sc’edule, locker number and combination, and a map of the sc’ool.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” I give her a nod and immediately turn my attention to finding my first class’s room number.
With my face buried in the school map, I walk right into someone, trip, and ass over tea kettle I go, landing hard on my butt.
“What the hell?” a disgruntled voice sneers.
“I’m sorry,” I say, not looking up, but scooping up my papers that are spread over the tile floor. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No shit,” he snaps.
With just those two words, the blame is solely on me, his voice oozing disgust and distaste at our encounter. My hands stiffen at his tone.
Looking up, the sexiest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on has his upper lip curled at me. Broad shoulders, muscled arms, and so damn tall. As tall as the trees, and I suddenly wish to be a squirrel. His blond hair falls perfectly across his forehead, and dark blue eyes give him that all-American look so many people in our society strive for.
My dick twitches in my khakis at the football jersey fitting perfectly over his powerful-looking chest and jeans that make me envious of their fly. Every woman and gay man’s wet dream stands in front of me, dripping with sex appeal.
“Watch where you’re fucking going.”
His harsh tone barely makes it into my brain. I can’t take my eyes off him. I can barely breathe. This beautiful human standing before me is everything I conjure up in my imagination while jerking off. He’s the perfect temptation, and from the look on his face, he was sent to me straight from the Devil himself.
I’m barely able to get my feet under me again when my back is slammed into the lockers against the wall. The lock on the door digging into my back.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” the Adonis in front of me barks, his forearm pushing against my chest and holding me back against the lockers. “I said, what the fuck are you looking at, faggot?”
His tone has dropped, and he’s in my face, his hands gripping my shirt. I force myself to think past the anxiety threatening to shut down my brain. I’m turned on by him, but afraid of him. What if he’s a test, sent by God, to prove my devotion? He’s terrifying in a way that has nothing to do with the physical threat of violence he’s going for. Yet, somehow, my entire world revolves around the boy snarling in my face. I can’t look away, even though I’m sure I’m about to get pummeled.
How does he know?
My eyes snap to his, looking for any sign that he knows my secret. I take in every line of his face, every shadow, desperate to know my perversion is still safe.
The longer I stare at him, the harder I have to try to stop the blood from flooding my groin even as panic sets my heart running away at full speed. Ice runs through my veins as fear overwhelms my system.
Stop. No, no, no. Crap.
“Answer me!” he yells as the echo of his hand against the locker door next to my head makes me jump.
His buddies behind him chuckle, but they are the least of my worries right now.
“N-n-nothing.” I stumble over the word.
How did I end up here? Confusion and fear grip me. I’ve never been in a fight. I don’t know what to do!
“That’s what I thought,” he smirks as he releases his grip, brushing away the wrinkles he has created and claps his hands on my arms once.
His hands sweeping down my chest almost force a moan from me. He turns his back and walks away. A group of football players surrounded him, watching what happened, but did nothing. What just happened?
It’s going to be a long year.
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