Hey Stranger

Zaid’s POV
Once again Sierra wouldn’t shut the hell up. We sat in the back of the art room at the pod tables and Sierra was on another rant about clothing and the lack of style at the school. As usual I wasn’t actually listening to the conversation, like I fucking cared about not wearing black pants with brown shoes…shit okay maybe I was listening but only for the superficial reasons of not needing another phone call at 1:OOam to listen to her bitch about how I never listen to her when she’s speaking, when I’d much rather be staring at the back of my eyelids dreaming about a certain short brunette from the coffee shop yesterday.

Casually I slid up the sleeve of my green jumper and looked at the scar on my wrist. What the hell had happened yesterday? It’s not normal to just glance at someone and the next thing you know the first letter of their name is scarred into your wrist. And yes that was the first letter of his name. I’d looked into it this morning when I’d gotten to school. I know it’s kind of shitty to use ones social status get information but what other choice did I have?

Arden Walsh was the resident artistic smart kid at Morrison Heights and it had been a real pain in the ass to simply find that out. People kept asking why I gave a shit about a loner emo loser like him…but I didn’t think he was any of those things… a little gothic maybe but not emo and definitely not a loser. It took time but I did eventually find out some things about him.

He was a junior, and didn’t really talk to many people nor did he really look in people’s eyes though he’d looked right in mine…but as for the friends thing, he had been new last year so I couldn’t really blame him for that. He played the bass in the Jazz Band, and liked punk rock and metal music. Both facts were awesome in my head…I look like I’d listen to popular pop and rap music but honestly that shit is crap…I’m one hundred percent in love with underground metal and old rock. I often get shit for it but because I don’t like the Jonas Brothers and David Archuleta but it just means I have better taste in music then most of my “friends.”

Anyway Arden often wore black, but I’d figured that when I saw his yesterday…so that tidbit had been useless and slightly obvious. Most of the other things I’d found out were pretty much useless and probably bullshit. Drama had a way of flying around so you couldn’t really pay much attention to allot of the things people tell you.

But one thing that did come up that I both doubt and find intriguing, Arden is openly gay. If it’s true then I envy him…I mean I’m not gay but I do have a tendency to look at guys…so I’m bi-curious I guess, but I haven’t even told my aunt that let alone anyone at school. The kid was very brave if he could come out to everyone like that…but only if it’s true.

The bell suddenly rang and I was jolted out of thoughts and off my stool on to my ass on the floor. I heard a few people snickering but joking about Zaid Eltsin…it’s Russian and half of them pronounced it wrong…falling on his ass to the floor but I wasn’t worried about them. I was more concerned with the whiskey-eyed brunette that had just stepped into the door way and was looking right at me. Arden made his way into the class room his eyes never leaving mine as he made his way to an empty table in the middle row.

“Hey faggot, you got a fuckin’ crush on him or something?” Jimmy, a football player from my table, scoffed at him. Arden immediately looked away from me and pulled out that black hard cover journal as if nothing had happened. I however felt like I’d just been kicked in the gut, both from the word Jimmy had called him and the fact that I’d seen the hurt in Arden’s eyes before he’d looked away. That one little word was the reason I could never come out to my friends, if they ever called me that I don’t know what I’d do…or that I’d be able to handle it.

The teacher, Mr. Roggan, decided to walk in at that moment. “Mr. Eltsin do you mind getting off the floor and taking your seat?” He asked a cocky tone in his voice, and more people snickered. “Sorry, Mr. Roggan.” I said climbed to my feet taking my seat once more.

Sierra nudged my arm, “Can you believe that fag, baby? He was totally undressing you with his eyes.” She said and I fought the urge to scoff at her.

“I know right.” Jimmy commented. “I mean, dude, what a freak. If I hadn’t said something that little pervert might have tried to talk to you…” As he said that I looked down at the table, like Arden talking to me would be so bad. In fact I wanted to talk to him but how would everyone react if I did. Would I lose friends? Did I care? But I already knew the answer to that one.

Mr. Roggan gave the assignment that he wanted 4 different drawings of 2 of our classmates by class time tomorrow and everyone except for my table pulled out their sketch books and started to draw. My “friends”, however, were still talking shit about Arden. God I wanted to vomit or tell them to shut the hell up or something. They didn’t even know him…but neither did I.

I wanted to though…there were things that I somehow knew about him. Like this bruised face was because his dad beat the hell out of him daily…not from a skating accident like the entire school thought. And the reason he was left handed was because his right hand had been broken when he was 4 so he’d had to learn to write with his left hand. I knew all things I knew I shouldn’t and it scared me. I even knew his favorite color though his choice of black clothing said differently; he actually loved the color blue…but not just average blue, he loved blue green like my eyes.

I sighed and snuck a glance at him, he was drawing with his head down like he had been the day before and damn he looked so beautiful…my eyes widened at the thought. Do I think his beautiful? Nah, of course not…I’m not gay just bi-curious and I do not think men are beautiful.

Then I heard it again…my voice but not quiet my voice. “But he is beautiful…isn’t he?” Once again I almost fell out of my seat but I managed to grip the table before I did. Was I losing my fucking mind? I was hearing voices! Jesus…what was wrong with me. I had a man-crush on someone I’d never talked to…and that’s all I’ll admit it to be. It was a man-crush...like a Bromance, an extreme liking for a guy but no sexual feelings.

“Then why did you have a dream about him sucking you off last night?” The voice said.

The worst part was it was mocking me and I nearly died because I’d forgotten about that dream…or at least that’s what I told myself. I’d woken up just before I had gotten to show my gratitude and I’d been severely disappointed. But that didn’t mean anything…it was just a dream. Dreams don’t mean anything, just like when you’re drunk you don’t actually mean anything you say. It would also mean that I could deny that I drove to school this morning thinking about how good he’d looked completely naked in my dream.

Then the images from my dream came back into my head, and I found myself wondering if Arden looked that good in real life…or if he was actually that good at giving head. I suddenly wanted to kick myself because I was starting to get hard… in the middle of class! What was wrong with me? My girl friend was right there and it wasn’t her that I was thinking about…it was Arden!

He chose that moment to lick his lips and I almost groaned. I watched him as he closed his journal and then looked at the clock stretching his arms over his head. Even that single movement was sexy…damn, someone shoot me. In the back of my mind I registered the bell ringing but I didn’t take my eyes off Arden. He slid of his stool and gathered his things and started out of the class room. I hadn’t noticed the day before that his hips swayed just slightly when he walked or how good his butt actually looked in those loose jeans.

“Dude! Zaid! Earth to Zaid!” Jimmy snapping his fingers in front of my face brought me back to reality. I looked up at him blinked. “Dude you were like totally zoning out again…and the bell rang like forever ago. We have to go to practiced. If you’re late again Coach will so make you run laps. Come on man.” I smiled at him and made some comment about how unlikely that would be as I put my sketch book into my bag when really I just wanted to slam my head into the table. Foot ball practice with a boner…couldn’t someone just shoot me dead now?