There is this boy - Alex and Me

Monday morning, my dad dropped me off at the front gate, as he always did. Sometimes late, sometimes not. You’d think being a teacher he’d have us there on time? But, I guess, being a university lecturer he had more of a concept of time being fluid, I can only suppose. Mostly, I was on time, but fortunately we always had form assembly from 9 to 9.30, which always got me to school on time, so to speak.

Most of the class was already there. Tall, good looking, Mr Lyon, our year 11 form master, was already talking. I took my seat next to Alex.

Mr Lyon had been cajoled into the infamy of the Reynolds class. I rolled my eyes when I realised, even I was bored with the subject, suspecting all along it was crap. Get another story guys, I thought.

“You boy’s really aught to get over it. It’s not a badge of honour, you know. It’s not an achievement. You guys are really doing yourselves a huge disservice by perpetuating this ridiculous rumour.”

“But is it true?” said Raymond.

“Come on. Enough.” He looked concerned, worried even that we would want to pursue this. “Your English essays were pretty good…”

Alex pushed his thigh against mine. I’d only just slipped into class, we hadn't spoken, as yet. Big, warm and thick, right where I liked it.

Lyon was handing out the essays.

“Hey Roberts,” Dominic A. whispered from behind. Alex withdrew his leg like a dirty secret, which, of course, it was. “Have you got the answer for question 10? Of the homework?”

Alex looked at me with his nervous eyes, as he turned around. Nervous energy, that is. Nervous for my eyes. No doubt, they were on bright shine moments later, by the time he had fully turned around. He leaned over the desk behind, his arse pert in the air. I wanted to touch it, feel his curves, his warmth, him alive under my hand, as I did nightly, well, afternoonly? (Is there such a word) I had to stop myself from looking at him, turn my head away.

My favourite part of a man, where his torso ends and his legs finish – from opposite directions, of course. I still love the way the slim waist flowers into hips and arse. I love the way a belt sits on a man, higher at the back and lower at the front.

Alex had the sexiest arse. It tapered in, from the hips to the cheeks, on either side, it was slightly turned up, pert, if you like and it had a well defined crack, starting from the middle, opening wider, in a triangle, as it disappeared underneath.

“No can do,” said Alex. “I didn't do it.”

“Shit!” said Dom.

Alex wore his pants tight, not circulation constricting tight, but snug, fitting. They were tight across his, thick, thighs and across his hips, which made him bulge, well, you know where.

“I've got it.”

“What?” said Alex, turning back to me?

“I've got it.”

“I know you've got it,” Alex whispered.

“The homework.”

“No drama,” said Alex, turning back to Dom with his, usual, car salesman spin. “Taken care of!”

I still don’t know what Dom did for Alex for the supply of homework. I don’t think anything, to be honest. It was just a part of being on the footy team, a part of football camaraderie. It was a part of Alex shoring up his support with whomever.

Alex turned back to me, still sitting, so that I was looking at his groin, which was in line with my face. He looked down at his groin, momentarily and then at me and smiled and then resumed his seat.

“Roberts?” said Mr Lyon.

Alex jumped. I was in no doubt about what he was thinking, as I was still thinking about the front of his pants. I could tell that he thought he’d just been sprung, as I thought he had been.

“Ah…yes, Mr Lyon?” Alex slid back down into his seat. Falter, sunshine. In the blink of an eye, he’d pulled it together. I could almost see the sweat sucked back into his pores.

“What were you just doing?”

I pushed my thigh against his. He pushed it away with his thigh.

“I was just…um, discussing the homework with Dom, sir. For Politics. There was a question that Mr Armadas wanted my help with… sir.”

“I see,” said Mr Lyon. Then he looked at me. “Surely, that should have been done before now?”

“You know Dom, sir,” said Alex, with his hands, as a question, in the air. “Does everything at the last minute.” Cheekiest possible grin.

Everybody laughed.

“Okay,” Lyon said. Then he looked at me. Alex looked at me too. “Just help… you don’t need to do it for him.”

“Of course, sir,” said Alex. “I know the rules, sir.”

Lyon looked at me suspiciously. I decided that I was being paranoid. I held his gaze until he resumed handing out the essays.

It was a strange kind of question. We weren't in silence studying. Alex wasn't disturbing any class that was going on. It was form assembly, we were supposed to be talking, that’s what it was all about. Form assembly was an opportunity for the class to get together and be a class, since we were mostly split into electives by year 11 and never really saw each other, as a whole. The only thing Lyon could be objecting to was me sizing up Alex’s lunch… and Alex letting me. You know, like it’s already been in my mouth.

“Give me your homework,” said Alex. “I’ll get it back to you at recess.”

I opened my folder.

“Down the change rooms,” whispered Alex. “With my hand down your pants…”

“Mr Fletcher.” Lyon’s hand put my essay down in front of me. 17/20. Lyon was standing behind me, apparently, looking at Alex. I would have thought in earshot, but…

“17 out of twenty, very good,” said Alex. He tousled my hair like I was a good boy. “Would you have one there for me, sir?” Alex looked up angelically, big puppy dog eyes. I could have licked him.

Alex got 16/20, as was our habit all through school.

“Oh!” He feigned disappointment.

I was out on the oval, with Raymond, having just returned from having a cigarette, at recess, when Alex came strolling over.

I liked watching him walk towards me, it always made me feel good, made me smile. He seemed like mine whenever he was coming to me.

“You stink,” were his first words.

“You got a mint,” I asked Raymond, my smoking buddy.

“Here’s you homework,” said Alex.

Raymond handed me a packet of Steam Rollers.

Alex nodded his head towards the end of the oval. “I've got something I want to tell you.”

Alex looked at Raymond.

“I've got to go, anyway,” said Raymond. “I've got to get to the library.”

Alex and I walked away from the school buildings.

“How was that in class today,” said Alex. “Do you think Lyon knows…

“Knows what?”

“Do you think he saw?”

“Saw what?”

I, of course, knew exactly what Alex was talking about. I think this was just my way of keeping an upper hand over him.

“You looking at my cock, you idiot!”

“Relax,” I said. I held my hands up in exclamation marks. “Schoolboy lovers outed by teacher, I can see the headline.”

Alex looked around, checking. I knew there was no one within earshot.

“Shhh!,” said Alex, like a snake. “Don’t joke.”

“Lyon knows nothing,” I said. “Besides, you were the one sticking it in my face.”

“But, that look on his face…”

“He knows nothing.”

We got to the fence. Alex sat up on it. I stood next to him and we looked back at the school.

“Smoking will kill you, you know,” said Alex.

“Something has to.”

“Yeah, but it doesn't have to be self-inflicted... ” He punched me on the shoulder. "You know."

“You’ll kill me,” I said.

I didn't know why I said that. It just came out, from some held, hidden truth. I guess Alex made me nervous. No, Alex didn't make me nervous, but the truth did.

Boys were playing football. Craig Cameron and Andrew Johnson were kicking to Dom A and Benjamin Saint. Boys sat in circles next to them, how no one got trodden on, I’m not sure. Others sat, on seats dotted around the perimeter, in groups.

“Are we really lovers?” asked Alex, gently.

I laughed, snorted through my nose. “I've got to get to class. I want to ask Barnaby about a question I’m having trouble with.”

I started to walk away.

“Hey?”

I turned back. “What?”

“Are we?”

I couldn't help but smile. “I guess, Mr Roberts,” I said, walking backwards. “That we are.”

Alex smiled his beautiful smile and the sun caught his fair hair and it glistened brightly.