Page 1 of Taking Care of You
1
Istand with my arms crossed over my chest, looking around at my classmates and fellow partygoers and wonder why I’m here. I hate parties. Absolutely hate them. If it wasn’t for Crystal, my best friend since kindergarten, I wouldn’t have come.
She’s an extrovert that likes to hang around and talk to people and drags me—her introverted best friend—along to all her social functions. She usually leaves me by the food or in the kitchen while she mingles. It may sound like she’s abandoning me, but this is our deal—I come to parties with her so she doesn’t go alone and she lets me be a wallflower.
Crystal has tried many times to get me to talk to people while we’re out, but after a few too many uncomfortable silences or awkward exchanges, I asked Crystal to stop trying.
Sighing, I look around at all the people here, bodies pressed close together as they talk-yell to each other over the music thumping through the sound system. I’m not even sure what this party is for.
Usually, there’s one for a football game win, football game loss, someone’s birthday, or someone’s cat’s birthday. At thispoint, I’ve stopped asking. I just go with it and try to stay invisible.
While I don’t like talking to people, I like to people-watch to see what’s going on without having to converse with anyone to figure it out.
From what I gathered from this party alone, one of the cheerleaders has been checking out one of the drama kids all night, a big faux pas in high school cliques. Elle, the cheerleader, has been shooting glances at Mitch, the drama kid, for the past few hours. She won’t say anything or approach him, but she tries to do anything she can for him to notice her. Flipping her hair when he looks in her direction, laughing extra loud when he’s in the room to draw his eyes to her, brushing past him when it’s not really necessary.
They’d make an attractive couple if it wasn’t for the‘cheerleaders don’t mix with drama nerds’rule. He’s the dark to her light. Where he has the deep brown eyes, brooding attitude, almost jet black hair, wears black the majority of the year, and typically doesn’t speak unless he’s on stage, she’s the bubbly, strawberry-blonde, social butterfly that smiles often and loves to talk. They’re both extremely good-looking and would probably hit it off if they would just speak to each other.
High school cliques are stupid.
I haven’t only been watching them, though; my eyes have been drawn to our wide receiver and stand-out track star. Hopelessly.
Pining after the most popular kid at school, and a jock at that, is cliche and not very smart, but I can’t help it. It’s not like I stare. I just…watch him. I watch how he moves, how he talks, how he interacts with his friends and classmates.
He’s nice to look at. I mean, what jocks aren’t? Even if they’re not especially good-looking, their bodies, their confidence, andtheir vibes make them more attractive than the rest of the student body.
“You should go talk to him,” a sweet voice with a country twang says from beside me.
I jump slightly but relax when I look over at my best friend. Crystal sounds like Ellie Mae Clampett, super cute and friendly. She’s a tall, brown-skinned girl with cute freckles on her cheeks and across her nose. Today, her hair is braided and pulled up into a large bun.
I give her a crazy look. “What? No. I’m not even paying him any attention tonight.”
“Yeah, not paying him any attention, but you knew exactly who I was talking about.”
The look I give her would incinerate a lesser person, but Crystal is used to my dark looks. “I hate you.”
She laughs at me, a soft laugh that only reaches my ears since we’re standing so close. “Seriously, Koby. He’s a nice guy. I know how you feel about the athletic types, but he seems cool. They’re not all dicks.”
Crystal gives me a sad look, and I know why. But I don’t want to think about it right now.
I turn away from her and discreetly give the boy in question another look.
Ethan.
He’s probably the best-looking guy at school. Or maybe I’m biased. He’s tall, over six-foot, built a little thick, but he carries the weight well. Rich brown skin, wide, light brown eyes, and those lips. God, his lips. They look supple, like they’d feel soft on my skin.
Not that they would be on my skin. Ever. Besides the fact that he’s straight, he wouldn’t waste his time on someone like me.
Aside from the fact that I’m super skinny, I’m also small. Five-five and one hundred and twenty pounds is not reallyattractive for an eighteen-year-old. I should look more like a man than I do, but instead I look like a freshman that’s trying too hard.
On top of being underweight, I’m super plain-looking. Not Ethan’s type. I have the type of face that doesn’t stand out in a crowd. Someone would probably look at me and think I look as generic as they come. My brown skin is a shade darker than Ethan’s but doesn’t really shine or look glowy or anything like that. In my opinion, my plain brown eyes sit a bit too far apart, my nose is too sharp and thin, and my lips are just kinda there. Not big or small. Just taking up space above my chin.
In other words, if Ethan wasn’t straight, I would not be the type of person that he would be seen with.
Honestly, I don’t want to be seen with anyone. I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m not sure if I even want to be in one. Besides, there’s no one at my school to date.
I’m sure my entire graduating class knows I’m gay, which isn’t a big deal in itself, but it seems I’m the only out gay person in my school.
When I came out a few years ago, I only got shit for a few months from some of the usual jock assholes, but when they realized they didn’t get under my skin or rattle me, they left me alone. I got enough shit at home for being gay that the shit they said didn’t really affect me.
