Can't Resist His Charm

Bryan Quite displeased, I furrow my forehead when I hear my name announcing, through the hallways of my school as I close my locker door, book in hand, blowing out an exasperated breath. Principal Mattews wants to see me after the next period is over. After the class is over, I jog all the way to the principal’s office. I really dislike it when they call me using the P. A system and even spoke to my mum about it, but nada. I mean can they get up with the new times already- everyone texts now- geez. Anyway, they wanted me in the office to meet the new student. To 'show him around' the buildings. Not that I minded, but still…I really disliked it when I am not notified beforehand. Like seriously…couldn’t they have texted me yesterday? Or even this morning? How about making the announcement yesterday? A phone call? Email- anything really. And who the heck starts school on a Friday? I will get a free pass for being late for my next class, but why should I? I didn’t want one. I just wanted to be on time for my first period, not excused for being late because the vice principal- or secretary or whomever, is in charge of notifying students when the faculty needed assistance- didn’t do a good job. I mean my mother is the biggest sponsor at this place, so they could treat me a little better, you know. Now, only because I am class President, did I have to take up this task. I tried turning it down…because of this hindrance, of course, but Mum told me she would be disappointed in me if I did. Now here I am stuck in this role. Thank goodness it’s my last year of this and yay college. But first prom and graduation. My beautiful girlfriend is set on being crowned prom queen and I am sure she will get it. Melanie’s incredible- she even applied to the same colleges as me so we won’t be apart, to leave room for falling out of love with each other. Yup, we pretty much have our lives figured out and I plan on asking her to marry me at prom. Pushing open the heavy and very wide, antique door, I walk into the main man’s office after knocking and hearing a soft, “Come in.” The inside is clean smelling and nope, it does not smell like pine trees but more of a linen and sometimes a vanilla scent. Not a hint of smoke, considering I saw him smoking a few times in the parking lot of a restaurant when he had reservations with parents outside of school hours. Professional, to not do so on school grounds. Our principal is very unusual, and the female staff goes gaga. His four-foot-wide oak desk is void with the exception of an unopened bottled water and a file that I am assuming is the new student’s, whose back is to me at the moment. The tall, elder man stands up and starts buttoning his jacket when I close the door behind me, walk to the side of his desk and sits down on the edge of it. Our principal was not like the description of the typical half-balding, slouched man sulking behind his desk. Nope, he is tall, slim, and fresh-looking for his age- quite attractive with all his hair and teeth- at least that’s how my mum describes him to anyone who asks or even when they don’t ask. I notice the new fellow, standing in front of the desk but a few feet away still, is maybe one inch taller than my five-eleven, which made him perfect for football, my brain calculates as I take in his muscular form. As vice-captain, I am always looking out for talent. My best friend, Sawyer, is the captain. “Bryan, this is Damian Slovak. His parents recently moved, so he’ll be finishing his last year here with us. Can you show him around? Take him through the dos and don’ts, yeah?” Principal Matthews addresses me and I nod saying I would as I shake the new guy’s hand. Firm grip. My father had instilled in me to learn about a handshake. You can assess a person by the way they shake your hand. I didn’t believe it, but in the business sense, I guess he had a point. But then again, I’ve met plenty of scum who had a firm grip- most of them, ironically, were my parents’ associates. The principal then proceeds to tell me about the classes Damian took and how he was part of his cheerleading team back in his old school. I raise an eyebrow, a slight frown accompanies this as I give him a quick up and down assessment because he didn’t look gay to me and I mentally make up my mind to keep at a distance, for I didn’t want that stigma to be with me. I wasn’t the type to go around frequenting bars with my under-aged self nor creating any sort of messed-up scene publicly. Neither am I one to find myself in any type of brawl. My image is clean- squeaky and has to remain clean because my father is running for mayor. “Listen, Slovak, I’ll take you around later, let’s go to class now,” I say to the guy as we leave the office. He nods and walks with me. I introduce him to the class and I notice the interest he had triggered in the females. I frown a bit for I am wondering why females found a guy with half of one of his eyes covered with his lengthy, needle-straight black hair, attractive. Without even a smile on his face, he walks over to the empty desk and looks at the board in front of him as the teacher takes my late card. Maybe they like the broody look. After that first day, I didn’t speak to Damian again although I gave him the occasional head nod when I saw him, which he always acknowledged with a nod of his own. He never smiled and I didn’t care much about his broodiness. Whether it was his personality or his problems at home- I really didn’t give it another thought. My mother has already brought enough of other people’s drama and pain into my family, to worry about others and ‘what they were going through’. Two weeks passed like this until I saw him one evening, looking at the footballers on the field. I squint my eyes when I see him doing stretches and I walk across the field to join him. This isn’t a cheerleader’s group I want to say but I don’t. Instead, I say, “Hey, want to give it a try?” “That’s the idea,” he returns and I try to bite my words back. I’d been polite enough and then he made a sharp comment after my kind words? ‘TF?’ “This is a real sport, not dancing,” I retort for I didn’t like the guy. “How hard can it be? I see girls around me,” he smirks as he twists his head to the side and brushes his long black hair back with his fingers. By long, I mean short at the back but lengthy at the top and front. ‘Cringe- is he flirting with me?’ Our team was made up of both males and females, yes- we do not discriminate. Natalie Sawyer is the captain and she’s the best. Better than me also, but when we play, we do it separately when the other teams deem it so. There’s a girls’ team and a boys’ team for sure, but we are one when we are here at our school. I look as he runs onto the field and talks to Sawyer. From the way they speak, I know she must have been the one to tell him to try out for our team. I shake my head. Melanie, my cheerleading girlfriend, joins me on the bleachers like she usually does when she has a free period. She kisses my cheeks before she leans back and says, “New blood Cam?” and I give her a shrug. She always called me Cam when we were out on the field, as a shortened version of my last name, Cameron. A cheerleader as a footballer? Hah! “He’s good, you know. We played this weekend after the carwash.” By this weekend, she meant the past one. I looked at her and frowned slightly. Does my girlfriend have a thing for the new guy? She was talking about the carwash they have, once a year only for senior citizens. Melanie volunteered at a home for the elderly twice a month on weekends and was always looking for ways to help make life easier for them. See, she never knew her grandparents because her father was parentless and her mother and her parents had never spoken since her parents got married. She said it was because her mother was pregnant before marriage. Then, when she was sixteen, one day they received a phone call that her grandparents had been robbed and killed. Tragic. Since then, she has dedicated her free time to helping out with the seniors- the elderly folks. When we get married, I am sure she would want to open something in remembrance of the grandparents she met on their funeral day. I would help her reach there, as Mel’s happiness is my goal. Melanie is gold. And I am lucky enough to have found the rainbow. “He’s a cheerleader-” “Do you have any idea how strong his muscles are because of it?” she cut me off with a smile on her lips as she took out her cell phone, videotaping the game- nope just a mini-reel- I stand corrected. Turning the camera on herself, making a peace sign. Then she turns it to me and I repeat what she did. Mel then turned back and focused it on the new student on the field with it and I heard her mumble in a sing-song tone, “Damian, hashtag teammate.” I admired her from the side- her thick long wavy black hair, in a braid to the side of her shoulder with some loose curls around her face. Perfect nose and full lips and cheeks. I looked at the field when I heard a shout and saw the guy easily run past and take the ball from Sawyer, who stood with her mouth open as he passed it onto another player and then ran up to the guy and took the ball again. “Ooh, I’ll do a video instead,” my girlfriend says giddily, and I turn back to see Mel admiring him. “For Funsta?” she adds, and I look back to the field as I agree that Damian was indeed skilled with the ball. But just how did my girlfriend know he had strong muscles? From my view, he seemed to be wearing an oversized t-shirt and tracks. Just exactly how was he dressed at that time that my girlfriend- ah never mind. He's gay.