You Belong With Me...? Read online

  God, Brad looked good in his football getup. I was practically drooling surveying him in his navy and gold uniform, the tight pants showing off his ass like a sculpture. I suddenly wished I had my pair of binoculars with me that night.

  As soon as the game finished (we won of course, remember the clichés?) I rode my tattered bike home and sulked for a bit, listening to music. It started to dawn on me, I didn’t just think Brad was hot; I was starting to actually like him. I mean, I spent half the game staring at him and the other half death-glaring his head-cheerleader girlfriend, Tara.

  “Shit,” I muttered aloud. It was just too cruel that I had a thing for Brad ‘Perfect’ Stevenson. He wasn’t just straight. He was soooo straight and even if he weren’t he’d still be 20 000 leagues out of mine. He's the waves on the surface of the ocean and I am the Mariana Trench.

  I walked into my bathroom and stared forlornly at myself in the full length mirror. I suppose I’m not so bad, fairly tall, not too skinny (but not muscled either unfortunately, I think the term is skinny-fat?), short chestnut colored hair, green-gray eyes and clear enough skin. My mom says I have my father’s strong jaw line but he died before I was old enough to remember him and there are hardly any pictures around the house – painful memories I suppose.

  What was a lonely-loser-accidentally-fancying-the-football-captain gay boy to do on a Friday night?

  Admittedly I’m smart, but I can be a real dumbass at times…

  I snuck downstairs and into the pantry in the kitchen. I took a couple of candy bars and half-filled a mug with mom’s supposedly ‘hidden’ vodka before grabbing some OJ from the fridge and retreating back to my man-cave.

  An hour, one candy bar and half-the-vodka-drunk later I had my music blaring and I was dancing around my room in just a t-shirt and boxer briefs. Unfortunately, due to the fact that I was using only the backlight of my computer for illumination I failed to realize that I had left my curtains open just enough to be clearly seen shakin’ my groove thang.

  I was a bit drunk by the time I realized and just left them the way they were because a) drunk, b) didn't care and c) I highly doubted Brad would be home anytime before dawn after the first win of the season.

  I fist-pumped the air when one of my favorite songs came on, You Belong With Me – Taylor Swift. Nothing beats old school Tay-tay. I'd be lying as well if I wasn't drawing some parallels between the associated music video and what was going down with Brad and me.

  I was getting a little bit too into it that night, fully acting out the song and singing into my hairbrush with all the exaggeration of a pop star. I was having a great time amusing myself when I spun around to sing the last chorus to my reflection in the window when I stopped abruptly all of a sudden (well, I still wobbled a bit.) The lights in Brads room were on.

  Please don’t let him have seen me, puurrrlllleeasseeee don’t let him have me dancing like a maniac to Taylor fucking Swift!

  I took a few steps towards my window to make sure he wasn’t peeking through the blinds and discovered, to my horror, his notepad propped against his window on my side of the blinds.

  A swell of overwhelming dread washed over me as I realized he had seen me dancing like some idiotic, immature, tween-age girl.

  Fuck, but at least it wasn’t Justin Beiber...

  I opened my windows to the cool night air to get a better look at the message left for me, I had to squint a little to clear my alcohol impaired vision.

  It simply read:

  ‘LOL’

  It took me a few seconds to really comprehend the simplicity of it before I was on the carpet in hysterics. He totally was never going to let me live it down, but somehow I didn’t think I’d mind the teasing.

  On Saturday I had organized with Jen to go to the mall around 1:00pm and just hang out. But I ended up waking much earlier than anticipated and actually had a productive morning despite the cottony feeling left in my mouth from the previous night. I was still mortified that Brad had seen me dancing in my underwear, I wonder if explaining that I was drunk would make the situation better or worse?

  By midday I had done all my homework, finished off an assignment that wasn’t due for two weeks and studied for my algebra test on Monday. Talk about accomplishment for a teenager!

  I got dressed quickly and waited for Jen to pick me up. She pulled up just past 12:30pm outside my house, in her shiny new Honda and honked the horn. I grabbed my shoes, shoved my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans and ran out of the house, stopping for a second to make sure I locked the front door. I reached her cute silver car, opened the passenger side door and jumped in.

  “Damn, you rich kids have no patience.”

  Jen’s family wasn’t really rich by St. Helena standards, but her family owned a number of very upscale and successful restaurants in the area and they were definitely wealthy.

  “Eh,” she said as she shrugged her lithe shoulders. Jen was tall, but quite thin – a body built from playing tennis from an early age. She was wearing a purple knit dress with black tights, and matching boots with her natural black hair worn straight.

  “So is there anything you actually need today or are you just going to spend some of Daddy’s money?” I asked, nonchalantly.

  “Halloween is only a couple weeks away and you know my thing about never wearing the same costume twice,” she said as she merged her little silver car onto the freeway.

  “I’ll be going as zombie again, it’s easy.”

  She rolled her eyes, “Would you please pick a new costume, you’ve been a zombie for the last four years.”

  “If you pay for it,” I said, grinning.

  “You know what? Fine, I will, because I’m sick of you being the only person lame enough to use the same costume from when you were 13…but I get to pick the new one!”

  “Jen, you know I’m not going to let you pay for a new Halloween costume for me.”

  “Too bad, I’m going to anyway.”

  I shrugged, “Fine, but nothing fag-y.”

  She smirked, “Deal.”

  I smirked back and we sat in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the drive to the mall. I’m sure she was using the time wisely to plan whatever abomination I’d wear to the school’s Halloween dance this year.

  Once we arrived I announced I was ‘starving’ and insisted that we head immediately, without interruption, to the food court. We got there, and I realized why I generally avoided coming here on the weekends, it’s pretty much filled with kids from my high school. I am thankful, however, that almost no one recognizes me out of my uniform and I am ignored by the people who would usually throw me an insult about being a nerd or more commonly, about being totally working class. Shock! Horror!

  I order my delicious fried chicken and Jen grabs a couple of slices of pizza before we attempt to find a vacant table in the noisy, activity filled area. We give up and end up sitting next to a couple of older ladies having coffee, Jen and I sat in silence listening to their rather animated conversation about the new pool boy that one of them hired.

  After we’d eaten, (very slowly, mind you, trying to prolong our eaves dropping) we headed to the only costume store in the mall for Jen to pick out both our costumes. I had really only gone out for something more interesting to do than additional homework, but had somehow let myself get talked into trying on uncomfortable and more often than not, embarrassing outfits.

  “How funny were those two old ladies? I can’t believe how openly they were talking about doing the pool boy,” Jen said, bemused as she looked through a rack of costumes for women.

  “I probably would too if I had a pool boy,” I answered jokingly,

  “You have no class.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever, I suppose there comes a point in life where you are so bored you need to do something like that just so you don’t poison your own coffee in the mornings.”

  Jen chuckled, “I can’t imagine having that much free time. School, homework, assignments, working for my pare
nts... You know I'm pretty sure they’re going to make me manage one of the restaurants after college…”

  “Doesn’t sound like you actually want to do that?”

  “Not really, but I ‘spose I’ll do it for a while if that’s what they want.”

  “What are you going to be studying at college, anyway?” I asked,

  “Business management and communications, probably”

  “God, that sounds boring.”

  “Like medicine is going to be any better, you got four years of theory before you get to do anything remotely interesting.”

  She had a point.

  “Okay, then what do you actually want to study?”

  Jen glared at me out of the corner of her eye, “What do you think?” she asked rhetorically.

  There were two things that Jen loved, tennis and animals.

  “Veterinary science.” It wasn’t a guess or a question. She just nodded in response.

  I knew that ultimately she’d love to work with big cats; tigers and lions etc but her dad thought it wasn’t an appropriate career choice for his only child.

  “What can I do? Dad said that he won’t pay for college if that’s what I choose to do. I know he loves me and he’s only trying to think of what’s best for me but goddamn, he can be a fucking bastard.”

  I’d only met her dad a handful of times, as he was always busy at one of his restaurants, but he’d certainly left me feeling uncomfortable and intimidated.

  “What about your mom? Can’t she do anything?”

  “She tends to agree with him, she thinks if I go into the family business I’ll be set. Why would I want to work with animals all day when I can earn triple the money working in close contact with my dad five days a week?” she finished by dramatically rolling her eyes.

  I grinned in response.

  “Here, hold these,” she said as she shoved about ten of her costume choices into my arms.

  She grabbed a few accessories to add to my pile and then demanded I follow her to the changing rooms.

  The changing room attendant cocked an eyebrow at the mount of outfits in my arms and stated that she could only take four in at a time.

  “’Kay, Ty hold on to the rest of these for a sec, will you?”

  I just stared at her and considered why I thought this would be a better alternative to studying all day.

  “Look, I’ll pick mine out quickly then I’ll focus all my attention on finding you the best costume!” she said with an almost sadistic smile.

  The attendant just smirked and I swear I could almost hear the whipping noise she was mentally making.

  I was waiting a few minutes outside Jen’s changing room door before another girl came swishing in, I looked at her casually but was taken aback when I realized that I recognized her. It was Tara Young – Brad’s girlfriend, FML!

  She squinted at me for a second, like she recognized me but couldn’t place me before going into the little cubicle next to Jen. Only a few seconds later, a pissed-off looking Brad followed her and stood fuming a few feet from me as he waited for his girlfriend.

  He took a quick look at me, since I was staring at him, and did a double take as his eyes grew to the size of golf balls. I gave him a hesitant smile and was about to say ‘Hi’ when Jen opened the door to her cubicle wearing her first costume choice.

  “What do you think?” She asked as she walked out, bare foot, and twirled around.

  “You look cute…for a prostitute?”

  She glared at me and I immediately realized I’d said the wrong thing.

  “I’m an 80’s rock chick, asshat,” she stated, like it was so obvious.

  Brad snickered from his position.

  “Oh, hey Brad,” she said with familiarity.

  I’d totally forgotten that he was Jen’s lab partner. I suddenly felt super awkward.

  “Hey Jen,” he returned.

  “You loitering in the changing rooms for a reason?”

  He grinned at that, “Yeah, I’m here with Tara,” he pointed to the only closed door in indication of her whereabouts.

  Jen just nodded. “Anyway, so this one’s a ‘No’ then?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Brad and I answered simultaneously. We looked at each other for a second with a shy grin on both our faces.

  Jen sighed and went back into the cubicle for the next outfit. I turned to Brad in an attempt to start a conversation but couldn’t think of anything to say. I stood there awkwardly with my mouth agape, looking around the room to try to find a topic but nothing happened. I must have looked pretty stupid because Brad just stared at me like I was a mental patient.

  He looked like he was about say something when the door to Tara’s cubicle opened and she emerged in a sexy devil costume.

  “Thank god,” I muttered and both looked at me strangely before beginning their own conversation.

  “Looks great babe, let’s get it,” Brad said, trying to get her to hurry up.

  “Hold on, I’ve still got three more to try on.”

  “Tara, we’ve been to every costume shop in town. Just fucking pick one already!” He said angrily.

  I suddenly understood why he was so annoyed at being here in the first place.

  “Brad, could you try not to be an asshole for five minutes? You know that I have to have the perfect costume for the dance, I’m the one running it!” She huffed and went back into the cubicle.

  Brad gritted his teeth and held out his hands in a strangling motion. I bit back my laughter just as Jen stepped out in her second choice.

  It was starting to become a cycle, it’s like Brad and I weren’t meant to talk to each other today.

  I took in what Jen had on and gave a little wolf whistle, she looked hot.

  “I’d have to curl my hair for this though,”

  “Oh? What’s it from then?” I thought it was just a French maid’s outfit.

  “It’s Magenta from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” She paused for a second in thought, “Oh my God! You should go as Frank’n’furter!”

  “Or I could keep my dignity and not,” I stated defiantly. “Remember what I said in the car?”

  “Oh yeah, okay well what about going as Riff Raff or Eddy or even Doctor Scott?”

  “Jen, you do know that I’ve only seen that movie once, when I was like fourteen because my mom made me stay home on Halloween and have a movie night.”

  That was a complete lie for Brad’s benefit. I have the collector’s edition DVD and the original West End soundtrack on vinyl.

  Jen looked at me like she didn’t believe my story. “You can be a creepy old bald guy, a dead Rock and Roll singer or an old dude in a wheel chair.”

  I sighed, “The second one.”

  “Cool!” she grinned “Do you think your mom would do the makeup for both of us?”

  “Probably, she basically only gets to do it once a year so she loves the opportunity.”

  Before my mom became a nurse she was actually a makeup artist, she mostly did weddings, proms and a few D-grade films here and there. But after my dad died when I was three she realized the paycheck wasn’t consistent enough for a single mom and had to stop in order to study nursing. I know she wishes she could’ve stayed in the business but like a truly good parent she put her kids’ needs before her own. I still feel bad about it though; I didn’t want her to have to give up her dreams for me.

  Jen retreated back into the changing room to change back into her own clothes and handed me the unwanted costumes to take to the attendant. I shuffled past Brad with the clothes in my arms, my heart hammering in my chest as I felt his eyes on me.

  “These are the ones she doesn’t want,” I said to the attendant as I hung them up on the ‘put-back’ rack. She simply nodded and started checking that the costumes were on the hangers the correct way.

  I peeked around the corner into the main area of the dressing rooms in hopes that Jen would be coming out; I really didn’t want to stand uncomfortably next to Brad again. For so
me reason, we can communicate perfectly fine with a notepad and a pen but face to face it’s like we’re total strangers.

  Thankfully Jen came out of the changing rooms quickly and I watched as she said goodbye to Brad and joined me in the main part of the store.

  “Well that’s me sorted,” she started grinning “Now it’s your turn.”

  “Jen, do you mind if we head home? I forgot that there’s an assignment I have to do before Monday,” I said, trying desperately to get us to leave. I really didn’t want to go back into those changing rooms with Brad and his girlfriend in there.

  “Bullshit, I know you, and you don’t leave assignments until the last minute.”

  “Okay fine, but can we still go. You can drag me back here at another time if you want, just not today, please.”

  “Why?”

  I crossed my arms and glared at her.

  She huffed and threw her arms up, “Fine, but you will be telling me why you’re in such a mood sooner or later.”

  Jen put her costume on the counter and paid for it quickly with her dad’s credit card.

  That night I kept a watch to see if Brad would be making an appearance at his window. It had been incredibly weird in those changing rooms earlier, and I think the fact that we didn’t get a chance to say anything to each other will probably make our note writing sessions a lot more awkward. It will certainly make the next face to face encounter the stuff of teenage nightmares. My palms were getting-sweaty-Mom's-Spaghetti just thinking about it!

  Chapter Three

  My school week was always pretty hectic, but this week was positively frantic. due to The school was upgrading almost 100 of it's computers, and I was responsible for installing the newest Windows on all the new Apple machines – total ball ache! So it wasn’t until Thursday night, after band practice, that I actually had more than three seconds of free time. I was procrastinating doing my homework by staring at my algebra text book, hoping that it would spontaneously combust when I decided to check if Brad was home.