Keith

He's right there.

And he looks so perfect.

I mean, as perfect as you can look while you're cupping your hand to your face in a vain attempt to stop the blood from dripping all over your uniform.

It was at soccer practice. They were doing basic  routines, passing the ball back and fourth between two people. And then a ball was kicked a little too hard, and went a little too high, and hit Nick in the face.

And I don't really know what to do.

Because the thing is, I don't play soccer. I play football. And it's not like me and Nick are best friends or anything. My best friend is sitting next to me on the sports stand, looking at his phone. Nick and I are barely acquaintances. And yet here I am, watching him (well was watching him, before he got a bloody nose) play soccer. It's not even a game, in fact me and James are the only people sitting here who aren't on the team. It's just practice, after school. But for the past three weeks, I've been coming and sitting on the empty sports stands with James, and watching eleven kids in my class play soccer. And it's all because of one thing. Or person I guess. It's because of Nick Whitman.

I've "known" Nick Whitman since sixth grade. We were in the same middle school, and then when high school rolled around, we both decided to go to Goldbrook. But I only really noticed him this year. Because back in middle school he was just "Nick, the kid in Mrs Bakers class" and then up until this year he was "Nick, the kid that's in my math class, and plays soccer" and then suddenly this veil lifted and now he's "Nick, with bright blue eyes, and kinda floppy brown hair that looks gold under light." And "Nick, with tan skin and little freckles that you only notice if you look really closely." And "Nick, who is kinda short and has really, really nice calves." And "Nick, who always wears some kind of school spirit shirt." And "Nick, who takes photography classes." And then "Nick, who when he smiles, makes my entire body warm" And then after spending five years with Nick as just this person I know, and sometimes say hi to, Nick is suddenly the only thing I can think about.

No homo though.

Except totally homo.

Because I don't think any straight dude thinks about kissing another dude (that dude being Nick, Nick Whitman) on a daily basis.

Not that I think about kissing Nick Whitman.

Except I totally do.

Not that I'm telling anyone that.

But back to my dilemma.

I could go up to Nick, say "hey man do you need help? I can get you a tissue." Or something cool like that. But that wouldn't work for several reasons. The first one is that would alert him of my presence. And why would I, someone who plays football, be at a soccer practice? And he would probably realize that I was the guy who had been at almost every soccer practice for almost a month. But the other reason why it wouldn't work out would be because I would probably just say something like "hi um I uh..do you need a tissue? I have lots of them and I um you have nice um." And then run off and die of shame and overuse of the phrase "um".

Or I could just sit there, and watch him walk off to the bathroom, and then feel weirdly guilty, like I could have done something to prevent him from getting hit in the face. Like some cool, dramatic jump to block the ball, and  then I would have a very heroic bloody nose. Of course, all this thinking takes more then a minute, which is how much time is needed for Nick to walk off of the field, and go into the school. So too late I guess. Option B it is.

It would look weird to follow him now. He's already in the school, and why would I be in school two hours after it ended? And at the exact same time that Nick has a bloody nose? Too perfect a moment. Nick would probably get suspicious. But what if I was just getting a text book that I forgot? What if I left my homework? They're weak reasons, but it's enough for me. I stand up from the bench. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." I turn to James. He's still on his phone, swiping through buzzfeed quiz's. "Good luck." He says kind of flatly. I can't blame him, if you have no reason for it, watching soccer is really boring. "So um see you later!" I say, then sprint to the school doors before I can change my mind.

I get to my locker just as Nick walks out of the bathroom, tissue pressed to his nose. Usually, I hate the fact that my locker is right next to the bathrooms, but for once, I'm happy about it. I fumble around with my books for a second, trying (and probably failing) to look natural. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him pause to watch me.
"Hey."
He sounds kinda funny because of the tissue on his face. I try to seem calm and relaxed. But I'm a horrible actor.
"Heyyyyy."
I stretch out the y, and god do I sound stupid. I slam the door shut and lean against it. Because apparently that's what my brain thinks translates to "calm and relaxed"
"Why are you still at school?"
He points at me, or maybe at my locker, I wouldn't know considering I'm basically plastered to it, but my stomach jolts either way.
"I uh, needed to get a book I left."
I laugh, and I can only imagine how stupid I look.
"Cool! Which book?"
He smiles. Or at least his eyes smile. I can't really see his mouth, it's covered by a tissue. I try not to look at his eyes too much, or I probably won't be able to talk.
"Um..."
Suddenly, my mind is blank. I can think of several things that aren't books. Like Nicks eyes, for instance. Or maybe his legs. Which I can see a lot of, because of the shorts. Which are really distracting. Do I curse or thank the soccer uniforms? But I can't think of any books. It's like on jeopardy, where when you're just sitting on a couch, you can think of all the answers, but suddenly when you're actually there, you can't think of anything. I can think of anything but books.
"Charlottes Web!"
I blurt out, even though I only read two pages of it in third grade, and stopped reading it after I heard the spider died. But instead of laughing, or rolling his eyes, he just nods sweetly.
"Can I help you look?"
He nods his head to my locker, and I immediately move away from it. He actually believes me. He didn't even ask why I needed an elementary school level book.
"I ah..sure! Thanks."
He smiles, and looks down for a second. There's a brief moment of silence that seems to stretch out forever.
"So where did you last see it?"
His eyes flick back up to mine, and god he's hot.
"I don't really remember."
I manage to say one whole sentence without saying "um" or stuttering. I should win an award or something.
"Alright!"
He says, and pauses for a moment. And I kind of wish he would just stay like that. Standing in the one part of the hallway with natural light, his hair all gold, and a dreamy expression on his face. But Whatever he was thinking didn't take that long to process, and soon he's talking again.
"We'll just have to look everywhere then!"
And I swear, my face is probably bright red or something.I nod blankly, and then he marches off to the science room.

Ten minutes in, I start to feel guilty. I also start to get concerned that the school doesn't lock any of the classrooms, and just think about all of the security risks. But mostly guilty. Because for the past ten minutes, Nick has been earnestly looking for my non-existent book, and I'm not so subtly checking him out as he does it.
"I think maybe we should call it a day."
I say after he crawls out from under a desk, his face flushed and eyes bright.
"I don't think we're gonna find it."
I rub the back of my neck, and I'm sweating. Like a lot. Can he see the sweat? Do I look creepy? I try not to make eye contact with him, which probably seems even creepier.
"Alright. Im really sorry I couldn't find it!"
His nose has stopped bleeding, so I can see all of his face now that it's no longer obscured by a tissue. He smiles. His hair is kind of messed up after crawling under so many desks, and it just makes him look cuter. I make an honest effort not to stare.
"It's fine."
We stand there, in between slightly crooked desks, and instead of looking at him, I look at the sign that says "late homework goes here." Which is hung above a trash can. Not even a recycling bin. For shame Mr Cohen. He reaches out and touches my arm for a moment.
"See you later Keith!"
He smiles, and then practically skips out of the room. Leaving me standing alone in the classroom of a teacher with no regard for students feelings, or the environment, with my arm buzzing.

When I finally check my phone, I have one text from James. It says "you've been spending a lot of time in the 'bathroom' and I need to do my homework. See you tomorrow!" I shove my phone back into my pocket and start walking home. It goes off a couple of times, but I ignore it. It's probably just Rachel. Rachel is a girl on the cheerleading team who is basically obsessed with me. I think she's wanted to date me for about two years now. She pretty for a girl I guess. With long, shiny brown hair, and smooth, tan skin. But she has a horrible personality. Even if I wasn't gay, I definitely wouldn't like her.

My brain kind of zones out as  I'm walking. I don't really feel attached to my body, and feel more like my brain is floating and the rest of my body is kind of just there. I've never said the sentence "I'm gay." Out loud before. I rarely even think it in my head. I guess the idea kinda scares me. Because if I think to hard about it, it means that I'm going to have to come out to my parents, and my friends, and everyone. And all of that is scary to me. So I stop thinking about it. And instead think about Nick. Which isn't really detouring from the "I'm gay" thoughts very much, because my thoughts about Nick are pretty gay. But unlike thinking about coming out, and all of the "consequences" of being gay, thinking about Nick is calming.

I think about how his eyes are such a deep blue it looks like he's wearing contacts. I think about how soft his hair looks. I think about how his laugh is so quiet and at the same time strong. I think about how his shirt fits a little loosely on him, because he's kind of small. I think about how the sleeves on his arms slip up because it's a little too big. I think about his arm muscles. And his calves. Why does it always come back to his claves? Do I have like a calve kink? Is that a thing? And then I just think about Nick.

How he just glows.

How he makes me feel warm and happy and also so stupid and clumsy.

How I've had maybe two conversations with him this past month.

How he has nice abs.

I try to not think about Nick and his abs, because I'm still one block away from my house and I'm really not feeling the whole "getting a boner and having to have a conversation with my dad while having a boner" thing. So for the rest of the way home, I'm thinking about the way that Nick smiles.

And I still get a boner.

I drop my backpack on the chair, mumble a quick "hey" to my dad, and run up the stairs to my room at record speed. I fall onto my bead and take out my phone. I have a text from an unknown number. Which is kind of weird, but probably nothing. I wouldn't be surprised if it was Rachel, texting on a different phone. I fumble with my phones passcode for a second, forgetting that I changed it to 1001, my birthday. I open up iMessage.

'Hi! I feel bad that I couldn't find your book. You can borrow this if you want! -Nick'

There's a photo of Nick holding a copy of Charlottes Web under it.

My entire body jolts when I read that. I turn my phone off. Not about to get turned on by the idea of Nick texting me. You idiot. A voice in the back of my head says. You basically already did. Instead of having a dumb argument with myself, I stand up and turn on a cold shower.

After my sufficiently freezing shower, I text Nick back.
'Thanks!' I write. 'That would be great.'

And then he texts back a smiley face.

Just one smiley face.

But it's enough to make my entire body warm for the rest of the day.