I Don't Wanna Feel a Thing Anymore.

547 Days Ago (18 and a half months)

It was too warm for mid May. Winter had come and gone too fast. I sighed, this was what I got for moving to San Diego. I had been here for almost a year now. It was a big shift after living in Michigan for my whole life. I had been fed up with my family, and I also knew California was a place for hopeless dreamers. I fit right in. the sun beat down on me at only 11 am. I really needed to invest in some shorts. The Whole Foods I worked in was cold year round though, which was fine by me. I walked into the employee entrance.

“Hey!” My friend Tony called out. He came over and clapped me on the back. “What’s up?” I smiled at him. Tony was adorable, but even though I was gay, I wasn’t into him. Tattoos weren’t really my thing. Luckily, he was straight, so it wasn’t something I had to worry about. I went to work behind the cheese counter. It was the same old routine; 10-4 on weekdays and weekends off. At least it was Friday. I made minimum wage, but I had health care, and the low salary was slowly but surely paying off my student loans. The day crawled by, as endless masses of hippies came and went. At last it was 4. I was about to close up and leave the shift to my friend Jesse when someone caught my eye. I slowly tied my apron back on, inspecting his every detail. He was small, just a couple inches shorter than me. He had skin the color of caramel and dark hair just past his shoulders. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, even if I wanted to. He turned and met my gaze, giving me a flawless smile. I snapped out of my dream-like state as he approached me.

“Hi, do you have anymore, uh, whole wheat tortillas?” He asked in a casual voice. I swallowed back the urge I had to kiss him right then and there.

“Yeah, let me just check in the back for you! If you could hold on just one second.” I replied quickly. He just nodded, looking a little preoccupied. I could feel his stare as I turned to go look for them. Even though tortillas weren’t my department, I knew where all the Mexican food was. It was my favorite. I found them easily and returned to him, handing them over with a smile. Our fingers brushed for a split second and it was like an electrical current ran through my arm. I looked at him sheepishly.

“Well, um, thanks… Kellin!” he said, reading my nametag. My heart fluttered as his lips formed my name. I smiled and nodded. He turned his back to go check out, only to look back a second later. “Hey, do I know you from somewhere? I know that sounds crazy, but I swear I’ve seen you before.” He asked tentatively, biting his lip. I knew I surely would’ve remembered seeing a face as beautiful as his, so I shook my head.

“I don’t think so.” I replied. He looked confused for a second.

“Oh, well I’m Vic. Maybe I’ll see you around?” He smiled. My heart seemed to be going a million miles a minute.

“Yeah, totally.” I grinned. In a split second decision, I scribbled my number down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Bye!” He went to go check out his tortillas. I disappeared into the break room. Tony sat on the couch looking annoyed as he tapped his finger impatiently.

“Dude, what took you so long? It’s 4:10! We said we’d be at the field at 4:15.” He said in an irritated voice. Shit, I forgot. We had a weekly pickup soccer game, but we had moved the time forward today. You get stuck in these activities when you hang out with Mexicans all day. I threw my apron on the hook, grabbed my bag, and followed Tony to his car. Vic’s face didn’t leave my mind for a second.

I love soccer. I played as a kid. I remember when I was about 7 or 8, back when my parents were still together, and they used to come to my games. My sisters never wanted to go, but they were always dragged along anyways. My first brother was too young to care, and my mom was still pregnant. The Bostwicks- Picture perfect family. Yeah right. I shook the anger that came to me when I thought about my dad. Playing soccer always brought that up in me, but then again, the aggression helped my team win. My team beat Tony’s today, 4 to 2. I high fived my friend Jaime, and jokingly congratgulated everyone. I noticed one guy hanging on the side of the field that I didn’t know.

“Hey Kellin, this is my friend, Mike!” Jaime said, running up and throwing his arm around the tall, tattooed man. Mike smiled at me.

“Hey, Mike Fuentes.” He said in a low voice. He had shaggy black hair and a lip piercing. His long, lanky body made him stand out among the smaller Hispanic guys, even though Mike was clearly Mexican. I smiled and introduced myself. He laughed. “I figured.” He said before turning to talk to Jaime’s friend, Trenton. I brushed off the odd gesture. Yawning, I realized I was exhausted.

“Hey Tony, I think I’m gonna head home.” I said, changing back into my beat up Toms.

“Need a ride?” He asked, like always. I shook my head.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you Monday.” I waved goodbye to the rest of the guys, heading off down the street. Tony gave me rides a lot, never pressing when I didn’t want him to drive me home. I really needed a car, then I would have some place to sleep, and Tony would definitely never find out that I didn’t have a home.