Flip for Me

Gerard’s POV

God, I am so stupid!

“I wanna wish you and Joey luck, Frank,” I mocked myself in a high pitched voice as I paced angrily around my house. “I wanna wish you luck, Frank,” I repeated, grabbing my hair as I paced. Who the hell does that? Who calls their number one enemy and wishes them luck for the next competition? He probably thinks I’m a dipshit now and will never want to talk to me again.

“Dammit!” I screeched, punching a wall. I took out my phone and called Patrick. He answered almost immediately.

“What’s up, Gee?” he asked. I tried my hardest to control my voice . . . I swear I did.

“I called Frank and made a complete fool of myself and now he probably thinks I’m a total loser and doesn’t want anything to do with me and oh, my god, I fucking hate Joey because he’s probably with Frank right now and just . . . ugh!” I yelled.

“Gerard . . . shut up. Stop thinking about Frank. Stop thinking about Joey. Think about the competition tomorrow. Think about winning for once in your miserable life. How did you even get Frank’s number to call him? Are you stalking him now? What’s going on with you?” Patrick ranted. I sat down, suddenly feeling very dizzy.

“Well, I kind of found Pete’s number and called him and stuff and asked for Frank’s number and yeah,” I mumbled.

“Gerard! You need to stop! Get Iero out of your head and focus or I’ll pull you out of the competition,” he said.

“You’ll what?!” I screamed, leaning forward in my seat.

There was no way in hell Patrick was pulling me from the competition. I needed to compete whether I won or not. I may have not beat Frank, but I was still one of the best or I wouldn’t be competing with him. God, Frank looks so good when he’s performing. He always looks good though. Oh, god, I’d love for him to come home with me tomorrow. . . .

“Are you listening to me?” Patrick snapped, pulling me from my thoughts. He did it just in time, too; things were about to get dirty and fast.

“Um . . . no. What were you saying?”

I didn’t feel bad about not listening to him; he was probably used to it by now. One time he kicked me and I still didn’t notice he was talking to me.

“Look, just stop thinking about him and focus on your performance, all right?” He sounded defeated as he spoke. I sighed and told him okay and then we hung up.

I tried to take my mind off of things, namely Frank, and took a shower. A very, very cold shower. Still, that didn’t help much. After eating dinner, I went to bed. It was only eight, but I knew I would be lying in bed for hours until I fell asleep. For one, my mind would be consumed with the competition. Secondly, there’s Frank. I don’t know why this is all hitting me now, these feelings I’m getting, but god; they’re a rush. It feels forbidden after years of “hating” him when really, all I was trying to do was cover up my feelings. (At least, I think I was. I’m not too sure because I had quite a few fantasies and daydreams of killing him.) But my god, that guy was hot. And I guess I should take Jessica’s advice and give him a chance, personality-wise; maybe he wasn’t so bad after you get to know him like she insisted.

I fell asleep, lost in my thoughts about two hours later, snuggling my pillow.

”Why are you here?” he asked. I jumped and turned around, trying to compose myself. Frank looked at me oddly as he approached me. Before I could speak, he pulled his shirt off and tossed on the gym floor before tangling his fingers in my hair, pulling me into a desperate, deep kiss. I kissed him back, needing this—the feeling of his lips moving against my own, the way his body was pressed tightly against mine. I wanted this. I needed this. Every second of it was like feeding my addiction—I was addicted to him.

“I-I need you,” I stammered against his lips before stumbling back onto a bench. Frank’s lips curved into a sly smirk as he straddled my hips, leaning forward to nibble on my left earlobe. I moaned softly and wrapped my arms around his waist, running my fingers over his smooth, bare skin. His skin was slightly moist, but he smelled so good.

“How badly?” he whispered in my ear. I shivered, anticipating with what may come. Frank bit down on my ear and leaned back just enough so that he was looking at me, his nose only mere inches away from mine. I leaned forward to close the small space between our lips, but he moved away from me, smiling slyly. “You didn’t answer me,” he grinned.

“So fucking bad,” I mumbled, looking over his chest and stomach. “I want to see every part of you. . . .”

Frank leaned forward and kissed me hard on the lips. I kissed back just as hard, gripping his waist. He pushed me back onto the bench and began to remove my clothing, piece by aching piece. I watched him closely, becoming more aroused as he kissed in random places all over my body. I was ready for this.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I groaned and sat up, hitting my alarm clock with a clenched fist. It was seven in the morning. The competition was today. I would get to see Frank today. I would—

“Oh, fuck!” I groaned, covering my crotch. “Seriously? Seriously. Why? Ugh.”

I haven’t had a wet dream since I was at least eighteen. What was going on?

I took a shower and got ready, putting on clean clothes once I was done. After, I headed toward where the event would be held and walked inside. By now, it nearly nine, so camera men and workers were setting up, preparing the place for everything that would be going down.

Frank should go down on me some time. . . .

“Snap out of it,” I whispered to myself as I approached Patrick.

“Wow, Gerard. It’s nice to see that you’re on time for once in your life. Oh, and look at that, you’re thirty minutes early. What’s the occasion?” he asked, being a smart ass. I narrowed my eyes at him and set my gym bag down.

“Shut up,” I mumbled bitterly. I looked around the gym, my eyes looking over everyone that was in the room.

“He’s not here yet, so quit trying to spot him out,” Patrick said. “I still don’t know what’s gotten into you. Why have you suddenly taken such an interest in him? I mean, I’m not mad. I think it’s great that you want to stop being alone and selfish and look for someone to be with, but why him and why now?

“I don’t know, okay? I really don’t. I’ve been speaking to Jessica a lot more and she thinks that the source of my anger is just . . . a strong case of jealousy. I don’t know why, but I’m starting to believe her. Anyway, I think I might give up gymnastics soon,” I told him.

“You’re gonna give it up? Entirely?”

He looked shocked. I simply nodded my head. Maybe it was time for me to just give up and do something else with my life. I had the money to start a new career and go to school for it and everything. I wouldn’t be bone broke without any possible future. And maybe if I did that, the public would let go of the rivalry between Frank and I and he’d maybe give me a chance. Maybe. Probably not. Oh, my god, what am I even thinking?

I tried to push the thoughts away and focus on what was going to happen soon. Unfortunately, Frank strolled in the door, looking nice as usual. I bit my lip and avoided looking at him. Frank, however, had other plans.

“Hey, Gerard,” he chirped from behind me, tapping my back. My eyes grew wide. I turned to face him slowly, feeling my neck burn in embarrassment.

“Oh, um, hi,” I said quietly.

“I wanted to wish you good luck in person,” he smiled. He hugged me and spoke quietly. “So, uh, good luck today.”

“Y-Yeah. . . . Good luck,” I said back as we pulled apart. He walked off, back to Pete and Joey. I felt my blood boil when Joey and I locked eyes, but I could see it in his eyes that the feeling was mutual. Jealousy or hate—I didn’t like this guy. At all. How did Frank hang out with such a douche bag?