I slammed the door behind me, threw my bag to the ground and collapsed on the couch. With my head in my hands, I started to sob. A million thoughts had gone racing through my mind, repeating the harsh words said to me that day. I wiped my tears and pushed my long, black fringe away from my eyes. "God dammit, Dakota! Why are you such a faggot!" I screamed at myself, burying my face in a pillow.
After regrouping, I lay down and stretched. Sighing, I closed my eyes and I couldn't help but to think of Scott. He hates me. He harasses me. He wants me dead. To him I was just the "emo faggot" who he can rely on as a punching bag when needed. So why did I find him so attractive? Maybe his soft yet firm-structured face, blazing blue eyes, whispy blind hair, thin but muscular build.
I reached down and slowly unbuckled my belt, biting my lower lip. I slid my hand into my boxers and closed my grip around my semi-hardened cock. I adjusted my body into a comfortable position and slowly started stroking my shaft. Back and forth, gentle at first.
Suddenly, the door opened and a notebook was thrown at my face. Before I had time to jolt my hand out of my pants, Scott's figure appeared in the door. "There's your shit back that I ripped from you on the bus. Nothing there that's interesting." He looked around the entertainment room and his eyes soon met my hand, still motionless in my pants. Noticing where his gaze was, I immidiately pulled my hand out and put the pillow over my lap. Knowing Scott had seen what I was doing gave me a hard on, yet scared me at the same time.
Scott stepped closer and sat on the arm of the couch near my feet. "So, gay boy likes to wank, huh?" I threw the pillow at him and sat on the chair farthest away, yet still too close.
"Why don't you leave, Scott? I didn't let you in. You weren't invited. I'm pretty sure this is illegal for you to just barge in and—" He cut me off with a loud cackle that echoed through the house. I licked my lips and tried to calm my breathing.
Scott got up and sighed, putting his hands on his head. "Alright, listen, gay boy—"
"Dakota," I corrected him.
"Right, listen... Dakota... I've been thinking, a lot actually. Uh... what I say, you know, in front of the other guys?" Scott sat down on the chair next to me, "I don't mean it." He tried to look me in the eyes but I looked away, uncomfortable.
"Okay," he started again, "I'm not the girl-crazed, sex-addicted, homophobe I present myself as... Everyday I just hate myself and I hide what I truly feel." He placed his hand on my knee and my heart began to pound. I had no idea where this was going and I honestly didnt want to find out.
"Listen, Scott," I interjected, "I accept your apology but you really should get going, I have homework and—"
My sentence was left at only a fragment as my words had been interrupted by soft, supple lips connecting with mine. I pulled back instantly and wiped my mouth on my sweathirt sleeve.