Ian Matters

I think I was fourteen when I decided my life would never be like a movie – where I have semi normal friends who all get along, where I save the world and get the girl and everything is happily ever after. That was when I seriously liked someone for the first time; a girl, named Kimberly.

I spent the entire year watching her from a distance in class, an entire year of Sal telling to me to just get it over with. I wasn't shy – I had made an ass out of myself in front of the majority of the school performing a dance at a pep rally that involved a feather boa and a plastic flamingo – but the truth of the matter was I was never particularly good with speaking to girls. The only girl I ever spoke to was Sal, and at that point I didn't even see her like that. She was more like an object with a mouth that talked about boys all the time. I remember it too well, too, the way that first crush ended. Thinking about it now it's a little bit concerning how well I actually do remember it.

It was a very underwhelming closing to liking a girl for the first time to an extent where it can be taken seriously, and funny enough part of the reason it ended like that was Nick – or, the jerk Nick used to be in high school at least. But I won't get into it, because all you need to know is Nicks fist crushed my face and broke my nose.

The elevator in the apartment building is not to be trusted and yet people use it anyway, the doors part ways and there it is; the Kimberly of this year, except this time Kimberly is a man and if my life were ever like a movie, it would be now. It happens then, the strongest rush of sudden desire I've ever had in my entire twenty three years, and it's so uncomfortably hot all of a sudden that I fidget where I'm standing and tug the sleeves of my hooded shirt up my forearms.

He's at least six feet tall, with light brown hair and a strong jaw that I just want to run my fucking tongue across, god help me. The brown eyes glance at me and I blink in awe, suddenly terrified of boarding the elevator. It's almost like I can feel my self control eluding me, and I realize maybe I should move out; maybe I am turning into Sal.

He blinks back, “Going up.” He tells me. God, the voice is just low enough and just sexy enough; tell me to and I'll let you fuck me in this elevator.

I give a hasty laugh, “Going down.” I respond, he nods. Reaches forward, pushes a button; the doors close slow like they're laughing at me.

I'll just get the next one.