I'm a Teacher, He's a Student

"Oh. Hi Mr. Way."

He smiled. "You don't have to call me that. It's Gerard - or Gee, remember?" he questioned, bringing up the nickname that I called him the day before winter break.

I nodded. I couldn't speak anymore, not just from the alcohol but it was so cold and my mouth couldn't form the words, plus I'm pretty sure they were chapped like hell. Why the fuck didn't I bring my Chapstick?

"Its pretty chilly out, I think one of the weathermen said it was gonna snow tonight. Do you want a drive home?"

I nodded again and pushed back thewonderful inappropriate thoughts about him to the back of my head as I got into the passenger seat of his black Honda Civic. Warmth immediately hit me in the face and I slid down the seat in comfort.

Gerard noticed my now relaxed state and laughed lightly. "Nice right? I think that's why I got the car in the first place, besides it being black."

"Your favorite color?" I asked him, the blood finally rushing to my mouth.

As he drived he turned to look at me with a confused look on his face. "Huh?"

"Black - its your favorite color," I repeated but more as a statement then a question. Immediately I mentally smacked myself ('Black - it's your favorite color.' What the hell, who asks that dumb a question?).

He smiled but didn't answer. "Where do you live Wil?"

I mumbled something about living on Jeffferson Road then asked him if I could turn on the radio. Before getting his approval or not my hand flew at the buttons and started turning stations, I settled on my favorite station: 92.3 FM K-ROCK.

"Hey, I love this station! I tried getting tickets to one of the concerts they were giving out, Taste of Chaos, but I called in too late."

"Really? I tried the same thing. I'm pretty sure they've got a couple of tickets left though. Hey, maybe we should try?"

He smiled at me in a way that mademy heart melt me happy and agreed.

Long story short, we called, they answered, and we got tickets to Taste of Chaos - together.

He'd gotten to the front of my house and just as I was getting out he grabbed my wrist.

"I think I should get a reward for finding you alive on the streets and taking you home, don't you think?"

Reward? What kind of reward was he talking about? A familiar place down south was giving me answers to that question but my brain was telling it to shut the fuck up.

He came over to my side and gave me a hug, he smelled like cigarettes and vanilla-scented aftershave.

Now, I don't know why, it was probably out of impulse (or the alcohol still moving in my veins) but I moved my head so he was facing me and kissed him. Just a five second (yes, I counted, is there something wrong with that?) peck on the mouth but I kissed him all the same.

It didn't freak me out that he didn't move.

It didn't freak me out that he didn't push me away.

What freaked me out was that he kissed back.