Good Guys Go Bad

Justin Ashton Winters, 18 years old.

One year down, one more to go was the first thing I thought as I exited the school doors I had entered through the past three years. School was getting tiring, but I consoled myself with the thought that an uncertain summer and then senior year was ahead of me. Knowing me, I'd make a blast out of both even if I wasn't going to spend the few months ahead of me in the city.

I would be with my dad cooped up in some small town up in the northern parts of Texas. I had no real opinion on the guy. He was my dad and I loved him. Him and my mother separated when I was little for reasons unheard of and my memory held tiny fragments of him, but nothing substantial on which to base true thoughts on him and his personality. Conversations with Dad were of short nature and the man said little. When my mom asked me to do her a favor as I was lying in bed, hungover and tired, I gave her an odd look and then felt obliged to nod. When she filled me in on the news, I hesitated and got angry, I admit, but my mom being so comprehensive told me to just think about it.

I don't know why I accepted the morning later, but I did and she was happy. In my own way, I had grown tired of all the faces around me, familiar and strange alike, and I wanted to experience a different kind of fun with people I had no obligations to, people I would probably never see again, no attachments. Also, I thought I owed it to my biological father and I knew he suggested this so I felt forced to not just take the idea in consideration but forced to not decline.

Mom needed a break, the hazy bags clung to the bottom of her eyes as standing proof. I wasn't the most easy person to get along with. I had a temper like no other and tolerated nothing from anyone. I didn't hold rage towards my life. It's just who I am. I partied like the average guy in high school does, I fucked girls and boys like a needy boy and I got high like most people like myself did. It's not something I took pride in nor am I ashamed to admit my flaws. I'm not trying to showcase myself as the perfect human because I'm not. I strive for nothing and love not a single person. Romance I thought og as overrated and I didn't want to take part in it.

However, my mother wore a heavy mask of exhaustion and I felt responsible to alleviate it since I had placed it there, which I why I drove the eight hour drive from San Antonio to my dad's hometown. My expectations for the little town were relatively low. It was a conservative town with far too many churches and too little of a population. I figured it would be those places where everyone knew everybody and whether you wished them out of your business their noses would remain in it. Word spread fast in places like those and soon enough the whole town would be buzzing about my arrival, I assumed, but was wrong. When I drove through, pulling off the interstate, I realized it wasn't as small as my imaginations had held it, a population of twenty-eight thousand. Yeah, compared to what I was used to it was small, but it wasn't a village.

I fell in with the light flow of traffic and then minutes later found myself in front of an unknown house I'd never seen. The address corresponded to the one my father gave me, but the large home surprised me. It had only one story, but upon looking at it its size was a bit overwhelming for me, who lived in a two room, one bathroom apartment.

I met my dad and things weren't as awkward as I thought. He donned a huge grin and hugged me upon entering. He aged considerably in contrast to the photos my mother had of him, that were locked away of course. His laugh lines were evident as well as the white strands salting his dark hair. We ate dinner and the small talk assuaged the tension. He asked questions like, 'How was the drive,' and so on. We even discussed how I had recently finished one hundred hours of community service.

I was quite the trouble maker. I was the bad boy mothers warned their children about. I loved my life though but even then I didn't experience true happiness. But I was okay with that because a thing like that takes far too much of a struggle to maintain alive. In those days, I didn't think myself capable of it. Later that day, I crashed out on the couch as me and my dad bonded, which consisted of sitting in front of the television and watching a football game. I had no affinity for sports, but I wouldn't fill my dad in on the information because of the contentedness in his stare as the images reflected off his dark eyes.

The following day I met him or saw him for the first time to be exact. Heath Charles Trenton. The turmoil the seemingly confident boy would eventually bring to me hid and my mind didn't detect the drama he would unleash on me one day. Shortly after a few more confrontations, we began to talk and my influence over him showed greatly. Heath didn't have many close friends and the attention he shed on me didn't bother. The following events of the summer unfolded and I hate myself for letting things grow to such an extent, to grow so out of proportion with me supervising it. It's not like I wasn't alert as to what went on, but I couldn't get our summer fling to cease until summer itself ended.

I left, but felt the desperate urge to turn around, so I did just that with the turn of the steering wheel and a call to my mom. She sounded anything besides pleased. She failed always to conceal her emotions. My senior year started and the sweat on my palms as I went to first period, I found hard to ignore. I couldn't pry my thoughts off of Heath and awaited our encounter. When I saw him though, I registered that I shouldn't had done this. We had two different worlds and smashing them together like this without his consultation would result in sheer disaster.

And I was right.

Heath Charles Trenton, 17 years old.

Towards the final days of May, the flower bringing month, all the usually smiling children and nonchalant teenagers longed for two things with thinning patience: The end of the school year and the beginning of summer. The high schoolers dreamed about the endless surfeit of parties, the alcohol the events would provide and the aftermath of those nights, the sex. Though, I couldn't fit myself into that category. I just wanted the year to be done with and eventually my pleas were heard. It was the first day of summer. Saying that to myself, I couldn't actually come to believe the statement. The heat picked up that day as if on perfect cue and I remember the way the hot waves fanned my face as I stepped out of my house.

My year as a Junior dragged on too much, but it might have been my own fault. I studied hard like no other in my class and the nights I spent crouched over my desk payed off because I was given the spot as top in my grade. The girls, I smiled and shrugged a few off, took some on dates, but I knew and they certainly knew I wasn't looking for anything serious. No sex, no long or even short relationships, I wasn't ready for it. No, I'm not the stereotypical man whore, a long stretch from one; I just don't want to be tied down to someone. I had too much plans for myself such as: Graduating as valedictorian, going to Harvard University, etc. A relationship at the time was out of the question.

My mom controlled my life in a way, burdened by her own mistakes throughout her teen years, but I didn't mind it. I'm not a complete nerd because even though I had a bit of anti social tendencies people couldn't help but adore me. I knew what I wanted and those around me respected it in admiration or indifference. I had plenty of friends, some close others distant, but at least I wasn't terribly lonely. If I couldn't seem to ease my boredom those people were only a call away to do the job for me. I did simple things with friends, hung out at the small coffee shop in town, watched some rented movies with them or go to the theatre or maybe head out for dinner or lunch, which ever the time called for.

My whole life I'd steered clear out of the trouble my classmates seemed to get stuck in like mud and every time I thought of it I would mentally pat myself on the back. I knew my mother was relieved at the fact she'd had a good son and not a rebellious one who preferred to come home wasted rather than sit on the couch in the den and read a book by the golden light the lamp gave off. Behind the twinkle in her prideful gaze I could tell just how thankful she felt towards me. We had more than just a good relationship; I argued not once time in my life with her or at least not after my father passed away. The loss was hard for the both of us, but we manged to tug out of the waters of depression. As I grew and matured she would tell me with saddened yet joyful eyes that he would be proud of all the hard work I slaved away to accomplish and I had no doubt she said the truth.

Anyways, things were going smoothly. I just had my senior year to complete and I would be off. My plans were in action and I couldn't stop the throttle that drove them. Life, everything made sense to me at the time. Changes or any form of alteration in my days I had not asked for. But destiny, I learned had other things in store for me, things which were brought on by one person and one person only. In a sense, I accept the changes I've underwent thanks to him because I know myself better. The realizations his blunt words brought me I'll never forget.

Who was that person that just about changed everything for me? His name is Justin Ashton Winters, a completely walking contradiction to who I once was. The good boy, me, Heath Charles Trenton, was turned into a bad one, so to speak.

That isn't even half of the story because summer ended and I tried to resume to my accustomed way of living without him, but something happened that reeked of havoc. With a tremulous feeling in my gut, I wondered with franticness how I was to resolve the matter at hands. What was I to do? It wasn't supposed to happen. I planned on erasing his image from my memory as selfish as the act my seem there was logic behind it all. I couldn't break the existing promises I had with my mother. You see, Ash as he liked to be called, was only in this southern Texan town for the summer. But when I saw him roaming the halls of the high school, my high school, on the very first day of school, the first day of our senior year I lost my composure.

And shortly after, hell broke loose and two hearts broke.

This is our story. . . our love story.