Dear Readers II,
I just started typing this up this morning around 8:45. Its now 1:25 and here is what I've got. Anyone who cares to look on this and comment, I would appreciate it. Its from the same story that I was working on yesterday, this time with more experimentation into Stone's peer relationships. This has no really outline or plot other than the character of Stone.
The loud clatter and crash of rings, pin, and other props littered the wide space of gymnasium. I inhaled in an odor of sweat, rubber, and new paint.
"Stone." I turned to see it was Keisha. Her pretty braids were gathered at her neck, and her dark face shown with excitement. I turned, smiling, just in time for her to leap forward and squeeze me.
"GAH!" When Keisha squeezes someone, its normally fatal. "Air!" This was a gasp that was also forced from me.
"Jeriah proposed!" She squealed, stepping backwards while clinging to my arm. Eyes wide, I grabbed her left hand to stare at the cute little sparkling ring that sat on her finger like a tiny twinkling bird.
"Oh honey, that's fantastic!" I said, turning her hand back and forth to catch the sparkle of her ring. "When is the wedding?" I looked up into her beaming face. She shrugged, her braids sliding over her shoulder as she shook her head, the picture of ecstatic joy.
"I don't know yet Stone." She said. Then she squeezed my hand. "Will you be my maid of honor?"
Punch to the gut. Bam. Fists rocked straight to my middle and squeezed out my air. She stood expectant, a happy smile on her face, her pretty brown eyes like two pebbles, beating on my mask of joy. Maid of honor?
"D-don't you have a sister who wants to do that?" I asked, my hand still gripping hers. A frown.
"Stone, you're my best friend!" She replied, all rejected hurt. I wanted to run away. I didn't though. I stood there and tried to explain, even though I felt stupid to talk about such a private matter in the noise and chaos of our practice room.
"Keisha!" It was Brittany, on of the first year girls. Keisha let go of my hand and smiled at me, turning away.
"Just think about it!" She called over her shoulder, leaving me there to stare at her like an displaced fish, gasping for the normalcy that was once my tidy fish bowl.
I backed away and waved, plastering a smile onto my face. I turned and it melted like the bad wax it was. Maid of Honor. I wanted to be furious. Yet, she was my best friend...so why should I be?
God**n Hollywood and their stupid Queer-Queens of gayness. Why couldn't she understand that just because I liked men, did not mean that I wanted to be a woman?
I dug into my bag and pulled out five rings, laying them down on floor as I sat to stretch. With every pull, I knew I was getting angrier. Frustration was topping the list. Keisha, dear sweet and wonderful Keisha was getting it all wrong. Gay did not mean that I wanted to go shopping with the girls. Gay did not mean that I was a female want-to-be. I jerked back and took a deep breath.
"Stone, right?"
The voice was gravelly and harsh. I looked up, my head back as I stretched my leg muscles. Green eyes and blonde hair met my view.
"That's me." He was tall.
"Is that your real name?" I swallowed, beginning to sweat. His arms were ropes of muscular masculinity. His hands...I could see the thick fingers grasping his forearms. He wore a leather bracelet on his left wrist but I couldn't quite make it out.
"Its real and its a name I go by." I said, trying to get a smile out of this strange he-man. I rolled to my feet and stood, offering a hand to him. "Bradley Stone. Too many Bradleys in the club so they call me Stone." I added when he didn't take my offered hand.
After a moment, he reached out, grasping my fingers with a warm, strong, handshake. I smiled and then leaned down to retrieve my rings, desperately needing something to hide my nervous energy with. There was silence as I began to shift my weight.
"Keisha asked you to show me around." He finally said. I blinked and then looked back over my shoulder. Keisha wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to me as she demonstrated a throw and catch for Brittany. I turned back and gave another nervous smile. He didn't smile back.
"Are you new?" Stupid question, I know.
"Transfer student." He turned away and then waited. I stepped up, gripping my rings as I walked up beside him. He made me feel so weird, with his grassy eyes and freckles, yet no smile in sight. It was a shame.
"So...what is your name?"
"Gerry." I jumped on the fact.
"Like Gerald?" I guessed, inserting cheer into my voice the way a doctor might force medicine into an arm.
"No." The needle broke. My cheer leaked away. "Just Gerry." My patient cold-clocked me in the face.
"Where are you from?" Thank you Captain Inane! The award for the most boring and unremarkable small talk goes to...
"Colorado. My Dad's a marine."
I pictured the beefcake boy in front of me in a pair of camos with a white tank over his great chest. "Uh, been in juggling long?" I wondered what else those thick hands might have held as I paced the gym with him. He stopped though and I nearly smacked into his back.
"Aren't you suppose to be showing me the club?" Testy. Very annoyed. Houston, we have a problem.
"Right!" Overly bright. Voice cracking now. "Ok, sure. I guess you've seen the locker rooms!" Where you would get undressed and I would have to be careful not to watch and drool, "And over there we do our tumbling practices for our routines..." He wasn't looking at me, he was watching Keisha as she bent over to pick up Martin Wheeler's dropped Diablo. I wanted to snap my fingers in front of his face and tell him that a picture would last much longer.
"What's the deal with Keisha?" Appreciation. That was definitely appreciation in his voice. Reality rained on my fantasies like a gloomy cloud of wet. Of course he was straight, who had I been trying to fool.
"No deal. She's won number one in the Women's regionals four years in a row and placed in the top ten at State level." I told him, all nerves flowing away. He looked back at me.
"So she's really good?" I wanted to beat him with my pins and walk away. My fury was starting to rise up. After all, why shouldn't the big, blond, linebacker be interested in our Juggling captain? We got plenty of guys pretending to love this just because of a pretty set of titties.
"Yes." I turned. "I've got to work on my routine now, but if you need any---" He frowned and interrupted me.
"Hey, you didn't show me the props." I stopped my eyes from rolling around. "Over there. Blue Bin." I turned away, ignoring him now. He had come for one reason and one reason only. I wondered how long it would take before Keisha beat him with her flaming batons.
I went to my spot and began to toss, just doing the warm up routine as I pushed away the thoughts of Mr. Beefcake. I reminded myself as I began to slip into my juggling beat that a new crush would just add to my already multiplying problems. Like, how did I tell Keisha that I really had no desire to preform the traditional FEMALE role at her wedding? I tossed the rings and changed my moves, creating a circle of beautiful arches in the air.
"Stone."
I slipped. I dropped. I grabbed, but it was too late. I'd missed the timing and the whole beautiful set of it all came crashing down. I turned and saw Gerry standing there, three pins in his hand and a look of annoyance on his face. Next to him stood Keisha, full lips stretched into a smile.
"What's up?" I tried for nonchalance even though I could feel the red of embarrassment creeping up my face.
"Gerry needs a spotter. He's learning a new routine."
I was confused. "Uh...where is Mr. Evans?" After all, a PE teacher with years of amateur football under his wide belt would be a better fit for Gerry than I, the skinny juggler.
"He's busy."
"Why can't you help me?" Gerry asked, all sweet smiles and smoky lustful looks. I resisted the urge to vomit.
"Because I have to leave early and meet my fiance at his mother's house." She replied with the cool confidence of the disinterested. I grinned, a little pleased that my girl had seen through his macho-hey-baby self so clearly. Gerry's eyes went to her finger and a scowl formed on his face. Keisha either didn't notice or didn't care as she turned towards me.
"Can you spot him Stone?" she asked. I nodded, feeling a bit of trepidation when she stepped away. I fixed my syringe, forcing cheer into my voice with that surgical precision that I prided myself on. After all, I didn't keep my name Stone without a bit of stubbornness.
"Do you have music for your bit?" I asked, laying my props down on the floor. Gerry turned and glared at me.
"Why didn't you tell me she was getting married?" Oh, Mr. Beefcake was angry. I shrugged.
"Because you didn't ask." I replied, uninterested in his raging histrionics. "Do you really need help with a tumbling bit?" I asked.
He growled and then looked me up and down. It stung, the realization that he thought about as much of me as one would think of some annoying bug that needed squashing.
"Not from you. You can't even keep your props in the air." Oh. So he wanted a fight, was that it? I smiled, spreading the facial stretch like arms opening for a challenge.
"Really?" I asked, the picture of the sweet little child. "In that case, why don't we have a bit of a show down?"
His snort make him look even more beefy...like a big bull that was just told that burgers come from cows. "Showdown? What are you, a western buff?"
I rolled my eyes on his cowboy hate. "Look man," I said, "If you're not interested in getting to know Keisha..."
That perked his tiny ears up. I continued. "All I'm saying is that you can't juggle any better than a four year old. If you want to try and prove me wrong, there might be something interesting in it for you."
He shook his head, flipping his pin over and catching it steadily. "I say you're full of sh*t." He declared.
I gave a casual shrug. "If you can keep your pins in the air for ten minutes straight, I put in a nice word with Keisha for you. If you drop them, I get to tell her that your a sleaze who just came to watch some boobs bounce."
An interesting shade of red cover his face. I wonder if it was embarrassment or rage.
"Fine. We're on." He bit out. I smirked but then he wiped the smile from my face. "Though that still doesn't prove that you're any good."
I glared. "Oh? How about a mixed challenge. I can keep UP with you while you juggle your ten minutes WITH more pins than you."
His smile spread like an oils spill on the ocean. Greasy and evil. "Your on then Stone."
He pulled a pin up and tossed it. "I hope you've got your timer going." His voice was a taunting pull of macho jerkiness. I stepped back and within seconds, I had my rings going. We glared at each other for a bit and I realized that he really did have a strong jaw.
Curse my sex drive. I tried to focus instead on how ugly his face was when he scowled. That seemed to be a safer place to concentrate my focus. After a minute, I looked back up at my props, noting the place where they fell and slipping into the easy tempo I set myself.
A minute had gone by when Gerry said, "You're slow."
"Your stupid, but you don't see me commenting on it." I shot back.
"That's because you're a coward." I frowned at my ring, then grinned. I sped up my circle and then let go of them all, spinning and then catching the group, tossing them into their formation.
"And a showoff." Oh, but he sounded a bit impressed anyway.
"I prefer...experienced." I twisted my wrist, changing the pattern again, slipping into an old routine that I'd won regionals with last year. It involved spinning while juggling, letting my rings hang in midair while I turned and spun. Three years of ballet had paid off in terms of letting me keep balanced while doing the spins.
"Maybe experienced in showing off." He said. I still thought he sounded impressed. "Is that an old routine?" He asked.
"Better concentrate on what's in your hands, Gerry. I'd hate for you to lose your first challenge." I replied, my eyes on the turn and spin of my rings. Five minute past, five minutes to go.
Again, between us there was silence. I was tempted...oh so tempted to try and throw him off balance. Yet as I snuck peeks at him from between my circles, I realized that he wasn't half bad himself. When he wasn't scowling like an angry GI Joe, his concentrated look was...well, sexy.
"Did you learn to juggle on base?" I asked, watching the way his muscles clenched and releases underneath his skin. He was starting to sweat as he kept up the hard pace. I think he notices me watching then, because he popped his next pin onto his chin and began to balanced and let the pins fall off of his forehead, chin, and hands. I widened my eyes and then nearly lost my props. I twisted and caught up, sweating now at the near miss.
"Nope." He said shortly, the word only finding space between his fancy moves. I grinned. Even though he was driving me crazy with annoyance, I grinned. I wondered, as I passed rings in a figure eight pattern, what this gruff boy was like outside of his shell of angry, cock-blocked, lust. I wondered if he was like a soldier. I wondered if he believed in brotherhood and friendship. I wondered, if he believed in love going past skin and gender to meet at the soul.
"Two minutes." He'd stopped his chin/face balancing act and was tossing the pins normally now, his eyes sharp. I wondered at him. If he were to marry the lady of his dreams, would he like a man to be her 'maid' of honor? I closed an eye and then intentionally slipped.
All my rings came tumbling down.
He stopped, catching all of his pins, his eyes wide in surprise. It looked good on him, that surprise.
"Ooops." I said, bending to pick up my rings. "Guess you win."
"Oh hell no." Those words were like a leash, jerking my head up to meet his gaze.
"You gave up." Red spilled across my cheeks.
"No." I said, ducking my head. "I was tired."
"Liar." He said, the sneer in his voice. I turned away. "Its not over Stone!" I stopped, surprised by his call. No one else in the crowded gym seemed to notice the confrontation that we were having. I turned and just raised a hand, finger extended. Then, though it made no sense to me, I left.
The loud clatter and crash of rings, pin, and other props littered the wide space of gymnasium. I inhaled in an odor of sweat, rubber, and new paint.
"Stone." I turned to see it was Keisha. Her pretty braids were gathered at her neck, and her dark face shown with excitement. I turned, smiling, just in time for her to leap forward and squeeze me.
"GAH!" When Keisha squeezes someone, its normally fatal. "Air!" This was a gasp that was also forced from me.
"Jeriah proposed!" She squealed, stepping backwards while clinging to my arm. Eyes wide, I grabbed her left hand to stare at the cute little sparkling ring that sat on her finger like a tiny twinkling bird.
"Oh honey, that's fantastic!" I said, turning her hand back and forth to catch the sparkle of her ring. "When is the wedding?" I looked up into her beaming face. She shrugged, her braids sliding over her shoulder as she shook her head, the picture of ecstatic joy.
"I don't know yet Stone." She said. Then she squeezed my hand. "Will you be my maid of honor?"
Punch to the gut. Bam. Fists rocked straight to my middle and squeezed out my air. She stood expectant, a happy smile on her face, her pretty brown eyes like two pebbles, beating on my mask of joy. Maid of honor?
"D-don't you have a sister who wants to do that?" I asked, my hand still gripping hers. A frown.
"Stone, you're my best friend!" She replied, all rejected hurt. I wanted to run away. I didn't though. I stood there and tried to explain, even though I felt stupid to talk about such a private matter in the noise and chaos of our practice room.
"Keisha!" It was Brittany, on of the first year girls. Keisha let go of my hand and smiled at me, turning away.
"Just think about it!" She called over her shoulder, leaving me there to stare at her like an displaced fish, gasping for the normalcy that was once my tidy fish bowl.
I backed away and waved, plastering a smile onto my face. I turned and it melted like the bad wax it was. Maid of Honor. I wanted to be furious. Yet, she was my best friend...so why should I be?
God**n Hollywood and their stupid Queer-Queens of gayness. Why couldn't she understand that just because I liked men, did not mean that I wanted to be a woman?
I dug into my bag and pulled out five rings, laying them down on floor as I sat to stretch. With every pull, I knew I was getting angrier. Frustration was topping the list. Keisha, dear sweet and wonderful Keisha was getting it all wrong. Gay did not mean that I wanted to go shopping with the girls. Gay did not mean that I was a female want-to-be. I jerked back and took a deep breath.
"Stone, right?"
The voice was gravelly and harsh. I looked up, my head back as I stretched my leg muscles. Green eyes and blonde hair met my view.
"That's me." He was tall.
"Is that your real name?" I swallowed, beginning to sweat. His arms were ropes of muscular masculinity. His hands...I could see the thick fingers grasping his forearms. He wore a leather bracelet on his left wrist but I couldn't quite make it out.
"Its real and its a name I go by." I said, trying to get a smile out of this strange he-man. I rolled to my feet and stood, offering a hand to him. "Bradley Stone. Too many Bradleys in the club so they call me Stone." I added when he didn't take my offered hand.
After a moment, he reached out, grasping my fingers with a warm, strong, handshake. I smiled and then leaned down to retrieve my rings, desperately needing something to hide my nervous energy with. There was silence as I began to shift my weight.
"Keisha asked you to show me around." He finally said. I blinked and then looked back over my shoulder. Keisha wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to me as she demonstrated a throw and catch for Brittany. I turned back and gave another nervous smile. He didn't smile back.
"Are you new?" Stupid question, I know.
"Transfer student." He turned away and then waited. I stepped up, gripping my rings as I walked up beside him. He made me feel so weird, with his grassy eyes and freckles, yet no smile in sight. It was a shame.
"So...what is your name?"
"Gerry." I jumped on the fact.
"Like Gerald?" I guessed, inserting cheer into my voice the way a doctor might force medicine into an arm.
"No." The needle broke. My cheer leaked away. "Just Gerry." My patient cold-clocked me in the face.
"Where are you from?" Thank you Captain Inane! The award for the most boring and unremarkable small talk goes to...
"Colorado. My Dad's a marine."
I pictured the beefcake boy in front of me in a pair of camos with a white tank over his great chest. "Uh, been in juggling long?" I wondered what else those thick hands might have held as I paced the gym with him. He stopped though and I nearly smacked into his back.
"Aren't you suppose to be showing me the club?" Testy. Very annoyed. Houston, we have a problem.
"Right!" Overly bright. Voice cracking now. "Ok, sure. I guess you've seen the locker rooms!" Where you would get undressed and I would have to be careful not to watch and drool, "And over there we do our tumbling practices for our routines..." He wasn't looking at me, he was watching Keisha as she bent over to pick up Martin Wheeler's dropped Diablo. I wanted to snap my fingers in front of his face and tell him that a picture would last much longer.
"What's the deal with Keisha?" Appreciation. That was definitely appreciation in his voice. Reality rained on my fantasies like a gloomy cloud of wet. Of course he was straight, who had I been trying to fool.
"No deal. She's won number one in the Women's regionals four years in a row and placed in the top ten at State level." I told him, all nerves flowing away. He looked back at me.
"So she's really good?" I wanted to beat him with my pins and walk away. My fury was starting to rise up. After all, why shouldn't the big, blond, linebacker be interested in our Juggling captain? We got plenty of guys pretending to love this just because of a pretty set of titties.
"Yes." I turned. "I've got to work on my routine now, but if you need any---" He frowned and interrupted me.
"Hey, you didn't show me the props." I stopped my eyes from rolling around. "Over there. Blue Bin." I turned away, ignoring him now. He had come for one reason and one reason only. I wondered how long it would take before Keisha beat him with her flaming batons.
I went to my spot and began to toss, just doing the warm up routine as I pushed away the thoughts of Mr. Beefcake. I reminded myself as I began to slip into my juggling beat that a new crush would just add to my already multiplying problems. Like, how did I tell Keisha that I really had no desire to preform the traditional FEMALE role at her wedding? I tossed the rings and changed my moves, creating a circle of beautiful arches in the air.
"Stone."
I slipped. I dropped. I grabbed, but it was too late. I'd missed the timing and the whole beautiful set of it all came crashing down. I turned and saw Gerry standing there, three pins in his hand and a look of annoyance on his face. Next to him stood Keisha, full lips stretched into a smile.
"What's up?" I tried for nonchalance even though I could feel the red of embarrassment creeping up my face.
"Gerry needs a spotter. He's learning a new routine."
I was confused. "Uh...where is Mr. Evans?" After all, a PE teacher with years of amateur football under his wide belt would be a better fit for Gerry than I, the skinny juggler.
"He's busy."
"Why can't you help me?" Gerry asked, all sweet smiles and smoky lustful looks. I resisted the urge to vomit.
"Because I have to leave early and meet my fiance at his mother's house." She replied with the cool confidence of the disinterested. I grinned, a little pleased that my girl had seen through his macho-hey-baby self so clearly. Gerry's eyes went to her finger and a scowl formed on his face. Keisha either didn't notice or didn't care as she turned towards me.
"Can you spot him Stone?" she asked. I nodded, feeling a bit of trepidation when she stepped away. I fixed my syringe, forcing cheer into my voice with that surgical precision that I prided myself on. After all, I didn't keep my name Stone without a bit of stubbornness.
"Do you have music for your bit?" I asked, laying my props down on the floor. Gerry turned and glared at me.
"Why didn't you tell me she was getting married?" Oh, Mr. Beefcake was angry. I shrugged.
"Because you didn't ask." I replied, uninterested in his raging histrionics. "Do you really need help with a tumbling bit?" I asked.
He growled and then looked me up and down. It stung, the realization that he thought about as much of me as one would think of some annoying bug that needed squashing.
"Not from you. You can't even keep your props in the air." Oh. So he wanted a fight, was that it? I smiled, spreading the facial stretch like arms opening for a challenge.
"Really?" I asked, the picture of the sweet little child. "In that case, why don't we have a bit of a show down?"
His snort make him look even more beefy...like a big bull that was just told that burgers come from cows. "Showdown? What are you, a western buff?"
I rolled my eyes on his cowboy hate. "Look man," I said, "If you're not interested in getting to know Keisha..."
That perked his tiny ears up. I continued. "All I'm saying is that you can't juggle any better than a four year old. If you want to try and prove me wrong, there might be something interesting in it for you."
He shook his head, flipping his pin over and catching it steadily. "I say you're full of sh*t." He declared.
I gave a casual shrug. "If you can keep your pins in the air for ten minutes straight, I put in a nice word with Keisha for you. If you drop them, I get to tell her that your a sleaze who just came to watch some boobs bounce."
An interesting shade of red cover his face. I wonder if it was embarrassment or rage.
"Fine. We're on." He bit out. I smirked but then he wiped the smile from my face. "Though that still doesn't prove that you're any good."
I glared. "Oh? How about a mixed challenge. I can keep UP with you while you juggle your ten minutes WITH more pins than you."
His smile spread like an oils spill on the ocean. Greasy and evil. "Your on then Stone."
He pulled a pin up and tossed it. "I hope you've got your timer going." His voice was a taunting pull of macho jerkiness. I stepped back and within seconds, I had my rings going. We glared at each other for a bit and I realized that he really did have a strong jaw.
Curse my sex drive. I tried to focus instead on how ugly his face was when he scowled. That seemed to be a safer place to concentrate my focus. After a minute, I looked back up at my props, noting the place where they fell and slipping into the easy tempo I set myself.
A minute had gone by when Gerry said, "You're slow."
"Your stupid, but you don't see me commenting on it." I shot back.
"That's because you're a coward." I frowned at my ring, then grinned. I sped up my circle and then let go of them all, spinning and then catching the group, tossing them into their formation.
"And a showoff." Oh, but he sounded a bit impressed anyway.
"I prefer...experienced." I twisted my wrist, changing the pattern again, slipping into an old routine that I'd won regionals with last year. It involved spinning while juggling, letting my rings hang in midair while I turned and spun. Three years of ballet had paid off in terms of letting me keep balanced while doing the spins.
"Maybe experienced in showing off." He said. I still thought he sounded impressed. "Is that an old routine?" He asked.
"Better concentrate on what's in your hands, Gerry. I'd hate for you to lose your first challenge." I replied, my eyes on the turn and spin of my rings. Five minute past, five minutes to go.
Again, between us there was silence. I was tempted...oh so tempted to try and throw him off balance. Yet as I snuck peeks at him from between my circles, I realized that he wasn't half bad himself. When he wasn't scowling like an angry GI Joe, his concentrated look was...well, sexy.
"Did you learn to juggle on base?" I asked, watching the way his muscles clenched and releases underneath his skin. He was starting to sweat as he kept up the hard pace. I think he notices me watching then, because he popped his next pin onto his chin and began to balanced and let the pins fall off of his forehead, chin, and hands. I widened my eyes and then nearly lost my props. I twisted and caught up, sweating now at the near miss.
"Nope." He said shortly, the word only finding space between his fancy moves. I grinned. Even though he was driving me crazy with annoyance, I grinned. I wondered, as I passed rings in a figure eight pattern, what this gruff boy was like outside of his shell of angry, cock-blocked, lust. I wondered if he was like a soldier. I wondered if he believed in brotherhood and friendship. I wondered, if he believed in love going past skin and gender to meet at the soul.
"Two minutes." He'd stopped his chin/face balancing act and was tossing the pins normally now, his eyes sharp. I wondered at him. If he were to marry the lady of his dreams, would he like a man to be her 'maid' of honor? I closed an eye and then intentionally slipped.
All my rings came tumbling down.
He stopped, catching all of his pins, his eyes wide in surprise. It looked good on him, that surprise.
"Ooops." I said, bending to pick up my rings. "Guess you win."
"Oh hell no." Those words were like a leash, jerking my head up to meet his gaze.
"You gave up." Red spilled across my cheeks.
"No." I said, ducking my head. "I was tired."
"Liar." He said, the sneer in his voice. I turned away. "Its not over Stone!" I stopped, surprised by his call. No one else in the crowded gym seemed to notice the confrontation that we were having. I turned and just raised a hand, finger extended. Then, though it made no sense to me, I left.