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VOTE and COMMENT for more cute, clueless boys. 

                       Chapter 0, _, 6,9,12,15,18

                                "Bad Idea^9"

                 

I Do Adore – Mindy Gledhill

 Bigg

“Do you come to these things just to see Jeremy in a pair of speedos?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Joy shrugged and sat down. "I'm  an experienced Fag Hag and I've been a beard for three years, for two different guys. I guess I'm an expert at pinpointing when a boy is daydreaming about licking lewd things off of another boy's chest."

She had her swimsuit thing still on, but she had thrown a ripped pair of short jeans over them. She kept her distance, but that was probably not to wet me.

“You know,” she began, “Jeremy isn't that attractive,” she argued. I was going to rebut, because yes, Jeremy was that attractive, but she stopped me with her hands. “I mean, hear me out. He’s nice to look at and I guess the whole gross boy, clueless best friend thing is in this season, but come on. There’s a whole lot of other fish in the sea, and most of them are better at math than he is.”

“I actually agree with the last part.”

Joy rolled her eyes. “Look,” she said, scooting a bit over and pointing toward the boys. There were 12 of them, all huddled together messing around. The girls were off in some other corner, stretching. “Look at him for instance, Taylor Mosby, dark skinned, tall, biology genius.” She looked at me. “Word on the street is if that you get enough Budweiser’s into him, he’d kiss llama. I’m pretty sure he’d get with you all the same.”

“Why does it sound like you’re comparing me to a species of useless goat?”

She crossed her legs. “Rory," she said, pointing to him. Rory was Jer’s swim team best friend, who he also hung out with outside of the team. Rory and I, when I remembered that he existed and vice versa, didn’t get along. Why? He was really into Literature.

Literature and Math are like The United States and Russia; they just weren't going to get along.

Math depended on factual information, precise computations to come to logical conclusions. Literature just made shit up as it went.

You can’t bend rules in Math. There is one clear answer for every question. In Literature, you bend rules until they looked like parabolas.

You’re not supposed to start sentences with the word ‘and’, but you still can because of ‘artistic vision’ or ‘writer’s style’. And to think that thing was considered an art form. Was that previous sentences correct? Yes? No? Maybe? In some instances? Who knows? I don’t!

“Rory’s…not on the menu," I grimaced. “Just no.”

Joy sighed. “Price. He’s never going to realized what he’s missing until it’s missed.”

“His loss…” I trailed. “Besides, teen relationships, especially between friends, always end messy. And it’s going to be really awkward when we break up over him mixing up permutations with combinations.”

She blinked. “You really need to get out more.”

I exhaled sharply. “Agreed.”

The silence had taken over; it filled the bit of space she had kept between us. Then she moved closer and closed the gap. She was dry by now. Her eyes were curiously brown. I could see the gears in her head grinding away.“What…if you dated Rory…but, you didn’t actually date Rory.”

“What does that even mean?”

She smiled and fell silent again.

“You’re creeping me out Joy,” I mumbled.

Her eyes had grown maniacally wide. “Good, Price. Good.”

The Coach had blown his whistle to end practice.

Jeremy steamrolled over to us and jumped up on the bleachers. “I'm tired,” he moaned, eyes closed and lips a-pout. “Get up, PB,” he groaned, grabbing hold of my hand and moving backwards until I was to my feet. “I want to go back home and sleep in your bed forever.”

I thumped him on his forehead. “What are you, ten? Suck it up.”

“Hey,” he growled, playfully, “You try swimming back and forth and back and forth and then doing that for another eight hundred million times and then tell me to suck it up.”  He pointed down at his speedos. “Plus I’ve been holding in this pee for God knows how long. Now take me home.”

“God, what are you, my woman?” I mumbled.

He pouted. “If I’m your woman then why aren’t you listening to me?” He placed his hand on his hip. “And why did you leave the toilet seat up this morning? And why won’t you look at me during sex? Am I getting fat?” He pointed to Joy, accusingly, “Your sleeping with this sluut, aren’t you?”

Rory and Mario came over before Jeremy got too into character and challenged Joy to a bra and panties match.

“Guys,” Mario mumbled with his face in his phone. He was probably reading a message from his girlfriend. Trina, or Teegan or T-Dogg. The point was, I had no idea what the girl’s name was.  Which was bizarre, since it was the only thing that ever came out of his mouth.

“Tina sent me this cryptic text and I have no idea what it means.”

Rory and Jeremy went to look at it. It was strange how much taller they were to him. Or how much paler they were.

Mario was half Black, half Latino. You could hear his accent sometimes, especially when he was really relaxed.  

They read it and then looked at each other. Then, for some reason, they both looked at me. “Ask Price,” Jer said. “He speaks Fluent Girl,” he commented, and I  resisted the urge to throw my left sneaker at him.

Joy waved her hands in front of Jeremy’s face. “Heeellooo. Girl here.” She cupped her breasts.  “Round, squishy boobs and all. Girl is my native tongue.”

Jeremy swatted her hands away. “Joy, you’re like, 40% girl max.”

“Yeah,” Rory said, “the rest is just muscle and sarcasm.”

Mario turned to me. His eyes were circular. They reminded me of twin asteroids, just hurdling towards earth, or in this case, me. He extended the phone to me. “You’re my only hope, man.”

I took it and exhaled. “Does she want to break up or something?” he asked. He was losing breath quickly. “I mean, we just got together like four months ago. “

I looked down and read the text: Are you free l8r?

I blinked and looked up at him. “I think she just…wants to hang out later." I slowly handed the phone back over to him.

Jeremy rolled his blue eyes. “Come on, PB. That is some layered shit right there. Read between the lines, man.”

“There is literally nothing cryptic about this message," I said.

“Man, you’re a worst gay than Rory here.”

“That’s offensive,” Rory commented, allowing his jet black hair to slip into his eyes.

“No offence, Rory, but you’re horrible at being gay, man.” He turned to him.  “You hate The Bachelor, you don’t think Tyler Posey is hot, which I mean, really? And you don’t think baking is fun.”

“Everything that you enjoy,” Joy added, offhandedly biting her nails.

He nodded so firmly. “Right."

Clueless Jeremy. Stupidly clueless Jeremy. It was almost amusing if it didn’t hurt me so much.

“The both of you should have your gay licenses revoked,” he said. “You don’t deserve them.”

“So, is Tina trying to break up with me or not?” Mario asked. Poor kids eyes darted frantically between all of us.

“Tina,” I said, a little too loud. That was her name.

Joy waved Mario off. “So, what you’re saying, Jer, is that they are so much alike?” Jeremy nodded. “And, what you’re saying is that their personalities match?” Jeremy nodded again.

“I mean, they do act a lot alike," he mumbled. "I sometimes call Rory PB by mistake and they are the same age, and  they both are super smart, and  oh my God – they should date!”

Rory double-taked. I gaped in horror. Joy was smiling.

“Woah, woah, let’s back this train up,” Rory said.

“No way bro,” Jeremy panted, “this train has left the station and on its way to its destination Rory and Price Love Makin’.”

“Clever word play, Jer,” Mario commented, “I bet Tina would like that,” he said and went back to texting her. He seemed to have forgotten about her earlier ‘cryptic text’.

“But-“ I tried, but Jeremy was already steam rolling with his thoughts; about potential dates and ship names. He was practically printing out our couple t-shirts in his mind already.

“I can see it now,” he said in his movie director voice, something that he did when he tried to predict the future. It never worked out for him, which might be a blessing in a very good disguise. He held up his hands like he was taking a picture, “Price Bigg and Rory Smith. PB&R.” he chuckled. “I’m going to pee and when I come back we are discussing this, you two,” he cheered, pointing between us.”

Then he ran off and tugged Mario with him.

Rory turned to us, eyes wide, filled with the sheer horror of even the thought of dating me. “PB&R?” Rory asked, looking like he just smelled 30 day old milk, “Peanut Butter and what? Radishes?” He exhaled and his hands smacked against his bare thighs. “I mean, that’s not evenly stupidly clever; it’s just stupid.”

My left eye twitched. “That’s your biggest concern?” I asked him, incredulous. “Your best friend is trying to set us up! Better yet, he’s trying to set me up with David Coppercunt!”

Rory’s right eye switched. “Oh, and you’re so much better?” he asked, scoffing. “You like Math, dude. That has to be one of the signs of the Apocalypse.”  

“Guys.”

“Oh, and reading about flying dragons and Harry Potman is so much better?” I scoffed.

“First of all, it’s Harry Potter. Potter. And it’s way better than solving logarithms and simultaneous equations. At least it’s exciting!” he flailed.

“Hey,” I said sharply, pointing a finger into his face, “Simultaneous equations can be fun. Some of those basterds really trip you up if you’re not paying attention.”

“Guys.”

Rory eyed me. “Man,” he laughed, “do you even hear yourself sometimes?” Rory stepped closer. He had a good couple of inches on me.

“Okay, guys.”

“Nerd,” he barked.

“Fanatic,” I spat back.

“Guys!”

“What!” we both shouted at Joy.

She stared at us for a moment. Then she adjusted herself on the bleacher. “It’s part of the plan.”

We looked at each other - Rory and I - and waited for her to elaborate.

She started. “You date. Fake date. See how Jeremy reacts to it. Worst case: the both of you rip each other’s heads off. Best case: Jeremy reacts to this negatively. He realizes he's in love with Price. Credits roll, Ed Sheeran sing plays over it."

“No way,” Rory spat. “I’m all for Jeremy waking up from his Straight Dream, but if I have to date Price to do that, I’m willing to let him lucid dream a bit longer.” He looked at me. “He’s the M. Night Shyamalan of people.”

I blew out air. “Who here even got that movie reference?” I sassed back. “This is why I don’t hang out with you English types. God, movie reference after movie reference, song references, book references. No one cares about The Fault In Your Divergent Games!”

He bit the inside of his cheeks and wrapped his hands around his neck. “No way,” he mumbled and stomped away.

Joy cleared her throat. “I thought that went well.”

“You should consider dating him,” Jeremy said.

The two of us were heading home now. Jeremy lived next door ( of course he did) and we had to catch the bus since Rory exploded like a volcano. We were now walking through our corner, midday.

We both lived in the stomach of our town, about 40 minutes away from school by car. Our street was usually a 20 minute walk t ours houses from the bus stop, but we usually never got bored or tired.

“I mean, I think it’s time you had a boyfriend.” He jogged up and crossed in front of me, walking backwards. “And have gay sex, which is probably the best kind of sex a person can have.” He exhaled, “There’s all that beard touching, and rough hands, and deep voices. I’m getting sweaty just thinking about it,” he chuckled. I didn't react to it, so he groaned. “Come on man. Do it. What are you waiting on?”

I’m waiting on you, dumbass. God, you’re an idiot.

“I just don’t think I’m ready to date anyone yet,” I mumbled.

Especially not pale Jane Austen, I thought. “It’s too much work to be around someone all day, every day.”

Jeremy started placing his feet under mine as I raised it, and moved it just in time so it wouldn’t get smashed.  It was a little game we played when we were younger that just stuck with us.

“What,” I began, trying to catch his feet under mine,“would we even talk about for hours?”

“You and I talk about nothing all the time, dude,” he commented. “Imagine talking to someone for hours, and then stopping every few minutes to make out and do some under the sheet wrestling.” He laughed when I almost caught him, but just missed him by the nose of his shoe. “I mean,” he said, almost out of breath, “Look at this tree here."

He pointed to one of the trees that littered our neighborhood, planted by bored housewives. “Don’t you want to be one of those clichéd couples who carve their name into trees?”

He stopped and jogged over to the tree, swinging around the skinny trunk and patting it at the base. It wasn’t that big of a tree at all. And it grew this strange looking black fruit that I had never seen before. It’s leaves were really thin. It looked alien.

He pulled out a switchblade, which didn’t even surprise me. Jeremy and I didn’t live in a very safe neighborhood. It wasn’t Grand Theft Auto dangerous but it wasn’t exactly The Sims safe either.

I walked over and leaned against a stray stop sign next to it. He placed the sharp mouth of the blade next to the bark and looked at me. “Look out for bored cops and environmentalists.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He smiled and started carving.

It took him about ten minutes. Then he called me over. He wiped imaginary sweat off of his brow and stashed the little knife back into his khaki’s back pocket. “Look,” he smirked.

That I did.

 PB-   it read, sloppily in wood.

“So, when you man up and find yourself a man, you can write his initials next to it.” He exhaled. “I can’t do the ‘and’ symbol, so you’re going to have to settle for the ‘and’ symbol’s drunk uncle, the ‘dash’.”

“Great,” I snickered.

 Jeremy may have been clueless and really all over the place, but even I had to admit that he meant well. He always meant well. That was one of the reasons why I liked him so much.

Anyone can be pretty on the outside, but what an amazing thing to be wonderful on the inside; to be beautiful right down to the genetic coding. 

We got to my place without much more conversation. Just this comfortable silence, which Jer snickering every so often when I caught his shoe.

That’s when I saw it. It was standing at my door. It had flowers in its hand.

“Rory?" Jeremy called. He stepped up the path to the door first. I remained frozen at edge of the yard. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “And what’s with the yellow tulips?”

He swallowed. “I came here,” he began and stepped closer to me. I looked over his shoulder. Jeremy’s face looked like it was about to explode into firecrackers, he was so excited. “These are for you,” he said, extending the flowers to me.

Joy must’ve gotten to him. Weak. Weak and spineless; I'd expect nothing less from a Literature major. “I’m allergic to tulips, you nitwitted, Charles Dickens wannabe,” I seethed, through clenched teeth, trying to keep my smile and not knee him in the sac.

 He laughed. It sounded forced. Jeremy squealed behind him.  Then he kissed me on the cheek, and stayed next to me ear, “I know you are.”

My math geek friend is MIA at the moment. But, look back here for the solutions ot the two math problems. Also, you''ll have a shot at solving another few again in the next chapter this weekend. 

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