Almost Lover

My lovely alarm clock blared out some outrageous noise that some insane people call music. My arm shot out to slam against the stupid contraption. Anything that stopped that racket would do. I don’t even know why I allow my alarm clock to play music from the radio half of the time. All of the songs are over-played, and frankly aren’t that good. I guess that’s my lame attempt at waking myself up, which usually doesn’t work anyway. I normally shut off the noise, and rolled back over to sleep some more. That’s just what I did.
“Asher! Get the fuck up!” One of my best friends, Izzy, yelled from the other side of my door. She’s like a little sister to me, but she’s only a year younger than I am myself. I decided to ignore the girl who comes to my house every morning to make sure that I get my ass up. My dad works from two in the morning to nearly noon while my mom works from one to nine in the afternoon. It’s extremely rare that both of them are at home at the same time for ever long, and when they are, they’re all over each other. I guess I should be happy that they’re so in love and not fighting, but hearing my parents getting it on isn’t exactly ideal. Izzy just comes over because she’s my neighbor.
I rolled over in my bed, and cuddled deeper in the sheets. I don’t really sleep well at night in the first place. School can get over it, I have a hot date with my black and blue pillows. I would rather lay in bed all freaking day than go to the hell hole known as high school.
“Come on! I don’t wanna be late!” Izzy whinned. I huffed, and shoved my head under my blanket. “Asher Daniel Blake! Get the fuck up! I’ll break your fucking door down, so help me God!”
I tossed my blankets back off of my body. I was really hoping that tonight was going to be one of those nights that Izzy did decide that she was just going to leave me here today. That would’ve been fucking rad. But that’s not going to happen. I know for a fact that the girl would break through my door and drag me around the room by my ear until I was ready. I’d much rather get ready by myself without the girl barging in here.
“I’m up, dammit.” I yelled back, my voice horse. I silently cussed the small blonde standing on the other side while I grabbed a clean pair of boxer briefs from my dresser drawer. I stretched my arms high above my head, letting my joints pop was I walked into my bathroom to take a shower. I checked the clock, just in case. If I had woken up any later, I probably would end up being late. Maybe I should start taking showers the night before so I don’t have to be up at the crack of fucking dawn.
As soon as the shower water was the perfect temperature, I slid out of my boxers, and under the steaming water. I lathered up the shampoo in my shaggy blond hair, and grabbed some body wash. I washed my body before rinsing off myself and hair. I took the conditioner to make my hair soft. I guess you could say this is the only way that you could tell I’m gay. I use girl’s conditioner, and I’m thoroughly obsessed with my hair. It’s my favorite part about myself. As selfish as that sounds, it’s very true. I love my hair. No one’s allowed to touch it. Not even my last boyfriend was allowed to. When he did once, I was pissed at him for two weeks. It may be outrageous, but it’s my hair. Not theirs.
“Damn,” Izzy whistled at me.
I rolled my eyes.
“What are you doing in my room?”
“Picking out your clothes…though I must say that you look mighty fine without them,” She winked.
“Whatever, Iz,” I laughed. “I don’t need your help picking out my clothes,”
“Where’s your gayness at?” She complained. “It’s no fun having a gay best friend when he doesn’t even act gay,”
“Go complain with someone who cares,” I joked as I dropped my towel and slipped on my boxer briefs with her in the room.
“Why don’t you wear regular boxers under your jeans?” She asked, now playing with her pretty and natural blonde hair.
“Regular boxers ride up, and hang over the top. Personally, I don’t want my boxer clad ass showing when they won’t allow my jeans up on my hips,” I explained to her again.
“I guess that makes sense.” She smiled. Izzy stood up from my bed, and grabbed the dark wash super skinny jeans from beside her.
“What? No shirt?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Yes, I have your shirt picked out, douche bag.” She retorted. “Here, where this thing,”
I caught the black v-neck that she had tossed at me. I put the shirt in the floor so that I could put on my jeans. With a little bit of wiggling, I finally got them up on my body. I walked to my dresser and grabbed my black studded belt. As soon as I looped the belt through, I picked back up my shirt and slipped it on over my head. I went to my closet, and searched for some shoes to wear. I grabbed my black, combat boots. After getting socks, and putting them on my feet, I thought that I was ready.
“How in the hell do you not have a boyfriend?!” Izzy nearly yelled.
I looked at her sarcastically, and shook my head.
“What do you mean?”
“You look damn good. Why in the world couldn’t I have been born with a penis?”
“Izzy, you’re beautiful. I’m sorry that I’m not into boobs.” I shrugged.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go do your hair, pretty boy,”
I nearly laughed at the girl before I walked to my bathroom to straighten my hair. It didn’t take long, maybe half an hour. When I was finished, I grabbed some moose and messed with my hair until it was the way I wanted it. I brushed my teeth, and then I was ready.
“Are you ready?” I asked, walking out of the bathroom.
“I’ve been ready,” She rolled her eyes and stood up. “Do you realize that you take longer than a fucking girl to get ready?”
“I’ve been told,” I groaned as we walked down the stairs. I grabbed my back pack and keys before Izzy and I walked out to my car.
On the way to school I put in my Blessthefall CD. I hummed lowly along with the music while I drove. Izzy just stared out of the window until I finally pulled into the parking lot. She jumped out of the car, and started toward the front door before I even turned it off. That was typical Izzy. She’s always in a rush everywhere she goes. I took my time, and finally joined my friends in the circle they were at.
“Fucking finally!” Chad, a loud football player, yelled as soon as I was in sight. I chuckled and walked over to them, smiling away. I was taller than most of them were. My 6’2” frame tended to tower over them, well most of them. My friend Stryker was almost the same height. He’s 6’1”, but he might as well be my height. “What took so long?”
“Sorry that I don’t sprint into the school without turning off my car first,” I rolled my eyes, smacking him.
Chad pouted, and I laughed.
“At least you’re not as late as Stryker is,” Seth shrugged.
“When is he not late?” I asked, joking around with them.
“Talking about me again, boo bear?” Stryker asked playfully, kissing the side of my face. “That’s not polite, ya know,”
I whipped off my face and laughed.
“Fuck off, Stryker.”
“Shut up, pretty boy,” He laughed and wrapped his arm around me. My arm wrapped back around the guy beside me.
“I swear the two of you are so gay.” Taylor, a small brunette stated.
Stryker messed with my hair.
“Nah, just a bromance,”
I glared at him for touching my hair, and I punched him in the gut forcefully.
“Bitch please, I’m too damn pretty for you,” I retorted. “Plus, you’re not my type.”
“That’s right, you like the shorter guys, right?” Chad laughed.
“Am I not good enough for you, babe?” Stryker asked, putting on his best pouty face.
“Nope, and you never will be,” I laughed. “You’re gayer than me.”
“I resent that, fucker!” Stryker nearly yelled. “I’m not gay!”
The bell rang before anything else could be said. We untangled our arms from each other. I gave Izzy a quick hug before the younger girl pranced off from us. Izzy and I joke around a lot about her being my ‘gay side’. She’s one of the best friend’s that I’ve ever had. Izzy and Stryker are definitely the people that are the closest to me. I’ve known them the longest.
“Hey, you wanna hang after school?” Stryker asked me as we walked to our next class.
“Sure, whatever,” I shrugged. “My parents aren’t home anyway,”
“We could go shopping or something? I need new skinnies,” Stryker stated, looking down at his faded, black skinny jeans. “You’ll have to drive,”
“As usual,” I rolled my eyes.
“Sorry, I hate driving,” He shook his head.
We got to our class and sat down in our normal seats in the back. Our first class was pre-calc. I hated this class with a passion, and it wasn’t as if it was that hard. Stryker was the one who had more trouble than anyone, but I help him out a lot in his classes when he needs it. It’s not like he’s stupid, but we rarely pay attention. We usually just make stupid jokes back and forth and throw things across the room. We’re like normal teenage boys.

♥

“Dude, no offense, but could you turn around?”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“You tell your best friend that your gay, and he automatically thinks that you’re going to jump him.”
Stryker laughed.
“You know that I didn’t mean it like that,”
“I know,” I rolled my eyes.
Stryker put his pants back on, and we walked out of the Pac Sun dressing rooms. This happens every time that we go shopping. Stryker has this thing were he hates walking out of a dressing room for people to see. So he just makes me stay in there with him. It doesn’t really bother me. He’s like a brother, I guess. He just happens to be a really attractive brother.
We finally got to the food court. We grabbed some Japanese food, and sat down.
“Just out of curiosity, what is your type?” He asked with his eyebrows raised in interest.
“I just I really don’t have a type.” I answered honestly. “I guess if he has a dick it works.”
Stryker laughed and shook his head.
“Come on! You have to have a type! You’re gay!”
“Yes, Stryk. We’ve established that I’m gay,”
“Aren’t gay guys like really picky?”
“Wow. Did you really just sterotype my sexuality?” I asked. “That’s kind of stupid, don’t you think? I’m not that picky. I’m a dude, same as you,”
“Okay, so if you got to chose between a football player or musician, which one would you choose?”
“A musician…what does that have to do with anything?”
“Shhh.” He shushed me. “So you clearly like guys who dress like you, and not like preps.”
“I guess.” I shrugged. “The tight jeans are definitely a plus.”
Stryker tapped his chin.
“Hmm…let’s play match maker,”
“This can’t be good coming from you.”
“Shut up, dammit.” He laughed. “What about him?” I turned toward where he was pointing. I saw the guy he was talking about, and he laughed. “What’s so funny?”
“That kid definitely isn’t gay,” I shook my head.
“He so is!”
“Just because I don’t act gay doesn’t mean that my gaydar is broken. That kid is straight. You need some help on yours,”
Stryker huffed.
“Do you blame me! The only gay guy I know happens to seem straight as a pole!” He stated, dramatically throwing his hands up.
“See him?” I asked, pointing to a guy wearing an American Eagle shirt and jeans. He looked good, and basically straight, but
I could just tell. It’s like gay guys have this extra special sixth sense or some shit like that.
“He’s gay?” He furrowed his brows. I nodded. “How in the fuck?!”
“I can just tell.” I shrugged.
Stryker rolled his eyes.
“Whatever, freak.”
We finished eating, and got up. We stopped by Hot Topic, and I grabbed a few new CDs and some jeans before we were ready to head back to my house. I hate shopping with a passion, I really do. I don’t know how Stryker doesn’t. I can’t even stand going shopping alone. I shook the thought from my head when I turned my car off. I dropped my bags off in the kitchen while Stryker ran on upstairs to my room. I looked around the kitchen from some sort of note from my parents before I found it. They left me some money to go get food later this week, as usual.
I really do hate how much they work. I wish that they could spend more time with me so that I wouldn’t be home alone all of the fucking time. Sure, I have Stryker over all of the time, but someone can only take so much of the black-haired boy. I’ve been friends with him since we were three, I should know by now. I sat the note down, and ran upstairs. When I walked through my bedroom door, Stryker was spinning around in circles in my computer chair. I flung myself down on my bed, and stared up at the ceiling. I’m dog tired. Maybe I’ll actually get some sleep tonight.
“Hey, who’s this guy?”
I lifted my head at the voice, and stared at the screen.
“That’s Dylan,” I answered.
“You two look cosy,”
“Yeah, well…” I trailed off.
“Is that your boyfriend?” He asked curiously.
“Um…not in so many words…” I tried explaining. “Why?”
“I was just wondering why I haven’t met my best friend’s boyfriend,”
“He’s…not exactly my boyfriend.”
“Then what is he?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“He’s a…friend,”
“You slut!” Stryker laughed. “Are you fucking him or something?”
“Since when are you so fucking interested in my sex life?” I changed the subject. “You didn’t talk to me for like two weeks after I came out to you,”
Stryker shrugged.
“I’m just wondering,”
“Well get your wondering ass over here and play some fucking Xbox.”
“Deal,” He laughed before he got up form the computer chair, and walked toward me. I set up the game, and waited for the loading screen. “There’s a party this Friday…why don’t you bring Dylan with you?”
“I’ll bring him if you shut the hell up about it.”
“Okay,” He smirked.