A Lesson to be Learned - Chapter 6
I watch in amazement as Mr. Iero throws himself around the stage, his guitar moving in time with his body as if it’s part of his body. The sleeves of his white, button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, exposing an array of colorful tattoos. I’ve never been one for body modification, but Mr. Iero definitely makes it so much more appealing. Mr. Iero leans towards the microphone, his voice, a perfect mixture of rough and smooth vocals, flowing from his throat as he sings out the words to the song I had listened to no more than an hour ago in detention.
His muscles and tendons in his arms and hands are moving and I find myself staring open-mouthed in awe at how skillfully he can play the guitar but still focus enough to sing at the right parts. I can see the sweat shining on his face and soaking through his white shirt, hinting at even more tattoos underneath. He must be fucking covered in the things. Mr. Iero’s dark hair is plastered to his face and soaked through with sweat, which I must admit, is quite a good look for him. His mouth falls open against the mic in-between lines in the song and I can’t help but compare his facial expression to what I imagine his orgasm face to look like and holy shit.
I wipe my sweaty palms down my thighs and grab my glass of Diet Coke for something to at least keep a grip on. There are several people standing near the stage and I can tell they’ve watched Frank’s band play before because they’re all singing along and when the band takes a break, they’re even shouting requests. How have I never heard of his band before? I always keep up with the local music scene. Mikey and I always go to shows; one would think there’d have been some way I would have stumbled across them at some point.
Mr. Iero slides down to his knees, bending back so his back is flat on the ground and I nearly drop my glass onto the table. It should be illegal for anyone, especially someone as attractive as Mr. Iero, to be able to do that sort of thing. He sits back up on his knees, his mouth still wide open, and I’m reminded of yesterday in my room when I had pictured this exact position. I feel my jeans grow tight immediately and I cross my legs, letting my mind produce the most horrific images possible to help control myself.
Around the time that a mentally manufactured image of my grandmother in a bikini grabs my attention, Mr. Iero and his band all shout a thank you to the crowd in front of the stage. He turns around and hands his guitar off to a friend before jumping off the low stage and making his way towards the table I’m sat at, a wide smile across his sweaty face.
“Enjoy the show?” He asks, still beaming through the perspiration. I nod enthusiastically, not trusting my own voice to function correctly. Somehow, his smile widens even more and I wonder how much it must hurt his cheeks to smile so much all the time. “Give me a few minutes to go pick up my stuff and we can get out of here, alright?”
I don’t even have a chance to reply, physically or vocally, before he’s walking back towards the stage again. I reach for my glass of Coke but realize it’s gone and as I look at the stage, I watch as Mr. Iero takes a gulp from it before sitting it on a stool. Oh.
Childish “oh my god he just had his lips where my lips were” thoughts flit through my head but I chase them away with threats of images of Grandma in a bikini again. It’s not long before Mr. Iero is waving goodbye to his band and moving back through the bar towards me.
“Ready?” He gestures to the door with his guitar case and I nod, standing up from the table and follow him through the door back outside into the rain. We rush to the car and Mr. Iero just throws his guitar in the backseat instead of fussing with the trunk again. He slams the door and cranks the engine to life before turning back to me. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any plans right now, would you?”
“Uh, n-no, not really,” I stammer out, my eyes widening in surprise.
“Okay, well would you like to come over to my place and watch a movie maybe?” He asks, his voice sounding almost hopeful and making me want to melt into a puddle yet again. I stare at him, probably taking too long to answer because suddenly he gets flustered with himself. “Wow, never mind. You probably have better things to do than go watch a movie with a teacher. Wait, do teachers and students even watch movies together? Oh god, this is so not professional. Wow, I’m so shit at this.”
“No,” I blurt out, interrupting his battle with himself. “I-I’d love to go and watch a movie.”
He gives me a sort of skeptical look, but I just give what I hope is an encouraging smile.
“Are you sure?” He asks, almost sounding nervous and I resist the urge to aw out loud. I nod eagerly and he lets out a sigh, nodding a little before facing the road and pulling away from the curb out into the thin stream of traffic.
The ride to Mr. Iero’s apartment is a quiet one. I have no idea what to say, and I know Mr. Iero is probably still battling himself in his mind and I don’t want to be the one to disturb it. He pulls the car up to a nice apartment complex and I feel almost a little bit surprised. I was expecting something a little more… run down maybe. I mean Mr. Iero is obviously an adult and would know how to pick out a nice apartment, but after today I just see a punk kid when I look at him. And this definitely doesn’t look like somewhere a punk kid would elect to live.
Thankfully the rain stopped on the drive over so we don’t have to scramble up the sidewalk to the complex. I wait while Mr. Iero punches in the code for the door. He pulls it open, holding it open for me so I can rush inside and wait for him to lead the way up the stairs and to the left to Apartment 248 B.
He unlocks the door, throwing it open and letting me walk in before he steps in and shuts the door behind us. I follow the short hallway to a small living room with a single couch, a recliner and coffee table. Opposite the couch is a nice flat screen TV mounted on the wall and I almost let out a low whistle. Mr. Iero has a nice place, which is way more than I was expecting.
“Well, make yourself at home,” Mr. Iero gestures to the couch, before turning to walk into what I assume to be a kitchen. “Want anything to drink or eat?”
“Uh, sure, water please?” I ask uncertainly, moving to the couch as I watch Mr. Iero disappear into the other room.
I lower myself carefully onto the couch, still staring around the room. There’s nothing on the walls except the TV, but it doesn’t feel empty like most places would. There’s a book shelf against the wall on each side of the television, each shelf filled. One bookcase looks to be filled with countless books, some older looking than the others, while the other one is stacked full of DVDs. I fight off the urge to get up and inspect any further and just fold my hands in my lap while I wait for Mr. Iero.
He returns shortly, two glasses of water and a bowl of popcorn in his hands that he sits on the table before turning to the shelves filled with DVDs.
“Any preference in movie?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at me with a smirk and I shake my head slowly. Fuck, we could watch Barney and Friends and I’d be completely content with that. Mr. Iero turns back to the shelving unit and scans his eyes along the titles before reaching out and pulling a case from the middle shelf.
I wait while he puts the disc into the DVD player and watch as the menu screen for the movie pops up. Dawn of the Dead. Not what I was expecting, but this works. I’m all for zombie movies. Mr. Iero turns around and walks back to the couch, grabbing his glass of water from the table before plopping down right next to me, leaving half the couch vacant. I fake a coughing fit to disguise my now tomato-red face and lean forward, picking up my water and sipping on it gingerly as the opening scene of the movie starts up.
I keep my focus on the movie, listening intently to Mr. Iero as he gives commentary throughout. I laugh, or simply give an affirmative response when he quiets down, but avoid looking anywhere but the screen. I’m consciously aware of the fact that his leg is pressed right against mine and that his hand is placed on his thigh at a place where it also touches mine.
Noticing this almost makes my heart race so fast it’s a wonder I haven’t gone into cardiac arrest yet. Image me sitting on the couch and just keeling over from a heart attack. Oh how I’d love to hear Mr. Iero explain that to my mother. Well, you see Mrs. Way, we were sitting on the couch and I accidentally put my hand too close to his leg and his heart just stopped.
About halfway through the movie, I feel Mr. Iero shift and can tell he’s staring right at me. I swallow dryly and dart my eyes to the side, catching his eyes and watch as a smirk spreads across his face. My heart rate picks up and I wonder how likely it actually is for someone to go into cardiac arrest just from sitting in the same room as someone like this.
“W-what?” I stammer out, my eyes widening as I feel my cheeks flare up again. His smirk widens and he simply shakes his head.
“Nothing, just thinking,” he says, tilting his head to the side a little. “So what do you do outside of school when you’re not watching weird teachers perform with their shitty band?”
“Uh, nothing actually,” I reply sheepishly, playing with my now empty glass. “I mean, I hang out with people, sometimes? But my life is pretty boring.”
“You don’t have a girlfriend or something that you hang out with or do things with or anything?” He probes, genuine curiosity in his eyes and I can’t help but choke out a laugh.
“Uh, no,” I laugh, my face growing even more red. “I, uh, don’t have a g-girlfriend.”
“No girlfriend?” Mr. Iero cocks his head to the side again a little, his eyes locking with mine almost as if he’s searching for something. “Why not?”
“Uh, I just d-don’t?” I sputter out, not understanding why exactly he’s bringing up this difficult of a topic. “I mean, I haven’t since about sixth grade. I guess I realized I don’t even find girls appealing, you know? Not like I even have had a boyfriend though. That definitely isn’t happening for me. I mean, look at this conversation. I’m way too awkward to hold even a platonic conversation with someone let alone romantic. Wow, why am I even telling you this? You probably don’t care. Should I just go? I’m probably annoying you and you-“
Suddenly Mr. Iero’s lips are pressing against mine and I let out a choked noise of surprise. Mr. Iero is kissing me? Should I do something? What do I even do? I can’t even remember the last time I’ve kissed anyone. Before I can do anything Mr. Iero, pulls away, a smirk plastered back on his face as I just stare at him.
“You do know you can kiss back, right?”
Chapter 7
His muscles and tendons in his arms and hands are moving and I find myself staring open-mouthed in awe at how skillfully he can play the guitar but still focus enough to sing at the right parts. I can see the sweat shining on his face and soaking through his white shirt, hinting at even more tattoos underneath. He must be fucking covered in the things. Mr. Iero’s dark hair is plastered to his face and soaked through with sweat, which I must admit, is quite a good look for him. His mouth falls open against the mic in-between lines in the song and I can’t help but compare his facial expression to what I imagine his orgasm face to look like and holy shit.
I wipe my sweaty palms down my thighs and grab my glass of Diet Coke for something to at least keep a grip on. There are several people standing near the stage and I can tell they’ve watched Frank’s band play before because they’re all singing along and when the band takes a break, they’re even shouting requests. How have I never heard of his band before? I always keep up with the local music scene. Mikey and I always go to shows; one would think there’d have been some way I would have stumbled across them at some point.
Mr. Iero slides down to his knees, bending back so his back is flat on the ground and I nearly drop my glass onto the table. It should be illegal for anyone, especially someone as attractive as Mr. Iero, to be able to do that sort of thing. He sits back up on his knees, his mouth still wide open, and I’m reminded of yesterday in my room when I had pictured this exact position. I feel my jeans grow tight immediately and I cross my legs, letting my mind produce the most horrific images possible to help control myself.
Around the time that a mentally manufactured image of my grandmother in a bikini grabs my attention, Mr. Iero and his band all shout a thank you to the crowd in front of the stage. He turns around and hands his guitar off to a friend before jumping off the low stage and making his way towards the table I’m sat at, a wide smile across his sweaty face.
“Enjoy the show?” He asks, still beaming through the perspiration. I nod enthusiastically, not trusting my own voice to function correctly. Somehow, his smile widens even more and I wonder how much it must hurt his cheeks to smile so much all the time. “Give me a few minutes to go pick up my stuff and we can get out of here, alright?”
I don’t even have a chance to reply, physically or vocally, before he’s walking back towards the stage again. I reach for my glass of Coke but realize it’s gone and as I look at the stage, I watch as Mr. Iero takes a gulp from it before sitting it on a stool. Oh.
Childish “oh my god he just had his lips where my lips were” thoughts flit through my head but I chase them away with threats of images of Grandma in a bikini again. It’s not long before Mr. Iero is waving goodbye to his band and moving back through the bar towards me.
“Ready?” He gestures to the door with his guitar case and I nod, standing up from the table and follow him through the door back outside into the rain. We rush to the car and Mr. Iero just throws his guitar in the backseat instead of fussing with the trunk again. He slams the door and cranks the engine to life before turning back to me. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any plans right now, would you?”
“Uh, n-no, not really,” I stammer out, my eyes widening in surprise.
“Okay, well would you like to come over to my place and watch a movie maybe?” He asks, his voice sounding almost hopeful and making me want to melt into a puddle yet again. I stare at him, probably taking too long to answer because suddenly he gets flustered with himself. “Wow, never mind. You probably have better things to do than go watch a movie with a teacher. Wait, do teachers and students even watch movies together? Oh god, this is so not professional. Wow, I’m so shit at this.”
“No,” I blurt out, interrupting his battle with himself. “I-I’d love to go and watch a movie.”
He gives me a sort of skeptical look, but I just give what I hope is an encouraging smile.
“Are you sure?” He asks, almost sounding nervous and I resist the urge to aw out loud. I nod eagerly and he lets out a sigh, nodding a little before facing the road and pulling away from the curb out into the thin stream of traffic.
The ride to Mr. Iero’s apartment is a quiet one. I have no idea what to say, and I know Mr. Iero is probably still battling himself in his mind and I don’t want to be the one to disturb it. He pulls the car up to a nice apartment complex and I feel almost a little bit surprised. I was expecting something a little more… run down maybe. I mean Mr. Iero is obviously an adult and would know how to pick out a nice apartment, but after today I just see a punk kid when I look at him. And this definitely doesn’t look like somewhere a punk kid would elect to live.
Thankfully the rain stopped on the drive over so we don’t have to scramble up the sidewalk to the complex. I wait while Mr. Iero punches in the code for the door. He pulls it open, holding it open for me so I can rush inside and wait for him to lead the way up the stairs and to the left to Apartment 248 B.
He unlocks the door, throwing it open and letting me walk in before he steps in and shuts the door behind us. I follow the short hallway to a small living room with a single couch, a recliner and coffee table. Opposite the couch is a nice flat screen TV mounted on the wall and I almost let out a low whistle. Mr. Iero has a nice place, which is way more than I was expecting.
“Well, make yourself at home,” Mr. Iero gestures to the couch, before turning to walk into what I assume to be a kitchen. “Want anything to drink or eat?”
“Uh, sure, water please?” I ask uncertainly, moving to the couch as I watch Mr. Iero disappear into the other room.
I lower myself carefully onto the couch, still staring around the room. There’s nothing on the walls except the TV, but it doesn’t feel empty like most places would. There’s a book shelf against the wall on each side of the television, each shelf filled. One bookcase looks to be filled with countless books, some older looking than the others, while the other one is stacked full of DVDs. I fight off the urge to get up and inspect any further and just fold my hands in my lap while I wait for Mr. Iero.
He returns shortly, two glasses of water and a bowl of popcorn in his hands that he sits on the table before turning to the shelves filled with DVDs.
“Any preference in movie?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at me with a smirk and I shake my head slowly. Fuck, we could watch Barney and Friends and I’d be completely content with that. Mr. Iero turns back to the shelving unit and scans his eyes along the titles before reaching out and pulling a case from the middle shelf.
I wait while he puts the disc into the DVD player and watch as the menu screen for the movie pops up. Dawn of the Dead. Not what I was expecting, but this works. I’m all for zombie movies. Mr. Iero turns around and walks back to the couch, grabbing his glass of water from the table before plopping down right next to me, leaving half the couch vacant. I fake a coughing fit to disguise my now tomato-red face and lean forward, picking up my water and sipping on it gingerly as the opening scene of the movie starts up.
I keep my focus on the movie, listening intently to Mr. Iero as he gives commentary throughout. I laugh, or simply give an affirmative response when he quiets down, but avoid looking anywhere but the screen. I’m consciously aware of the fact that his leg is pressed right against mine and that his hand is placed on his thigh at a place where it also touches mine.
Noticing this almost makes my heart race so fast it’s a wonder I haven’t gone into cardiac arrest yet. Image me sitting on the couch and just keeling over from a heart attack. Oh how I’d love to hear Mr. Iero explain that to my mother. Well, you see Mrs. Way, we were sitting on the couch and I accidentally put my hand too close to his leg and his heart just stopped.
About halfway through the movie, I feel Mr. Iero shift and can tell he’s staring right at me. I swallow dryly and dart my eyes to the side, catching his eyes and watch as a smirk spreads across his face. My heart rate picks up and I wonder how likely it actually is for someone to go into cardiac arrest just from sitting in the same room as someone like this.
“W-what?” I stammer out, my eyes widening as I feel my cheeks flare up again. His smirk widens and he simply shakes his head.
“Nothing, just thinking,” he says, tilting his head to the side a little. “So what do you do outside of school when you’re not watching weird teachers perform with their shitty band?”
“Uh, nothing actually,” I reply sheepishly, playing with my now empty glass. “I mean, I hang out with people, sometimes? But my life is pretty boring.”
“You don’t have a girlfriend or something that you hang out with or do things with or anything?” He probes, genuine curiosity in his eyes and I can’t help but choke out a laugh.
“Uh, no,” I laugh, my face growing even more red. “I, uh, don’t have a g-girlfriend.”
“No girlfriend?” Mr. Iero cocks his head to the side again a little, his eyes locking with mine almost as if he’s searching for something. “Why not?”
“Uh, I just d-don’t?” I sputter out, not understanding why exactly he’s bringing up this difficult of a topic. “I mean, I haven’t since about sixth grade. I guess I realized I don’t even find girls appealing, you know? Not like I even have had a boyfriend though. That definitely isn’t happening for me. I mean, look at this conversation. I’m way too awkward to hold even a platonic conversation with someone let alone romantic. Wow, why am I even telling you this? You probably don’t care. Should I just go? I’m probably annoying you and you-“
Suddenly Mr. Iero’s lips are pressing against mine and I let out a choked noise of surprise. Mr. Iero is kissing me? Should I do something? What do I even do? I can’t even remember the last time I’ve kissed anyone. Before I can do anything Mr. Iero, pulls away, a smirk plastered back on his face as I just stare at him.
“You do know you can kiss back, right?”
Chapter 7