[AKA - Love Blossoms Between Friends]
“You know what I mean, bro?”
Brian honestly had no clue what Clint was talking about as he pumped the overinflated football in his hand out a few times before cupping it in his open palm. Still, he obediently nodded and offered up, “Oh yeah. Totally.”
Brian played some junior high ball and managed to be both ignored and critical enough that his coaches kept him in the same spot till JV high school. All he figured he might get out of these years was a cool letterman jacket, some relaxed Fridays, and a bit of exercise. That was until he met Clint.
He not only didn’t ignore him, but he also recognized how critical he was to the team and always kept him involved. As his strategy thoughts and deep planning washed over Brian’s brain, Brian not only wanted to be a better player, but he found himself lingering at Clint’s backside as he walked away. He knew enough drama students and flamboyantly out there dudes in classes to have a hunch about what was going on. What puzzled him was that he had a long history of checking out cheerleaders, cuddling giggling girls in the back of the room when he thought the teacher wasn’t looking, and marveling at actresses.
But everything inside his body went gay for Clint. Maybe it was that thing called love, but it left him enormously frustrated and seeking constantly to rub one out. Brian grumbled to himself as they walked to the recently repaired, once-vandalized boys' bathroom. He didn’t really have to go, but he also wasn’t ready to lose sight of Clint after practice yet.
“It’s fundamental, dude. It’s all about building things up and faking where you’re going to go. The game is mental. If you can be at point D before they even know you left point B, then that’s half the battle.” Tucking the football away in his gym bag, Clint held the door open for Brian as they walked in. The rancid, wretched, and generally nauseating odor that infected every single bathroom on campus, despite how clean it looked, was absent in the tiled hallway as they made their way past the sinks.
Brian threaded his way between the sinks and the ancient trash cans made of oil drums as Clint unbuttoned his fly and stepped up to the nearest urinal. He cautiously responded, “Yeah, I get that. I’m just not a big plan dude. You’re the team guy.”
With an echoing laugh that pitched strangely high against the tall ceiling, Clint chuckled and brushed back his blonde hair, which seemed a little shaggy. His stream flowed out, like splashing a full bucket. Brian crossed and re-crossed his legs.
“You don’t have…*cough*…” Clint‘s voice shot up, like he suddenly got pinched hard in the nuts by his cup. Frantically, Clint wiggled and pinched off the stream before glancing towards the stalls. Shaking it out, he muttered, “Maybe number two…”
Brian raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. He still didn’t need to go, but the blood diverting between his legs made him wonder if he could at least try. Glancing towards the mirror, fresh without any gang sign vandalism, he thought for an instant that his face looked weirdly smooth. Glancing again, the illusion diminished but didn’t seem to quite go away. Touching it with his hand reassured him that the stubble was still there.
“Aaahhhhhhhhh…” A long, girlish sigh traveled from the stall Clint entered. Scrunching up his dark eyebrows, Brian questioned, “You okay…i-in there?” His initial inkling was to add “man/dude” but some nagging intuition made it slip his mind.
The heavy splash of peeing should’ve sounded about the same as the urinal, not that Brian was trying to listen to Clint pissing. But the sound felt intangibly off. And then it suddenly stopped. The voice that echoed against the stall door sounded like someone else.
“Better now. Whew!” It was a girl; it had to be a girl. Brian, again in the drama department, knew some guys who could reach a weird falsetto, but this was not that. This was not Clint’s voice caught in a weird register. This was totally a girl, and the only thing he could think was that a girl was hiding in the bathroom, and Clint must’ve planned this. Tension and melancholy surged through his beating heart and dripped sweat behind his ears. He hoped that Clint wasn’t pulling one on him. He doubted his heart could take it. But it was the only thing that made sense. The lock clicked open, and someone stepped out.
The figure sashayed from the stall and checked her gym bag on her shoulder. She was a good head shorter than Clint. Her hair had his dishwater blonde tone but cinched back into a fluffy pink tie, with light strands framing the edges of her face like cottony yellow streamers. A silver heart pendant hung around her thin, soft neck as she adjusted her sports windbreaker. Her arms, as they poked through the long sleeves, were toned but minuscule compared to Clint’s beefy, muscular limbs. And more than anything, Brian gaped at the immense shape formed by her bust that barely fit in her white tank top, like a snug wifebeater. Her cleavage looked like something that would get you sent to the office for dress code. They weren’t as big as her head, but their expanse could stretch from her slim, marker eyebrows to her soft chin. Pale pink lipstick accented her full lips.
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For all the strange, new qualities, Brian noticed the familiar shape of the girl’s face, which felt like Clint’s, but after a long, lasting bath in strange hormones. Despite the eyeliner, she had Brian‘s eyes. And that nose, although missing the presence of reddish bumps from athletic nose strips, was one he could’ve picked out in an instant. And her butt, definitely fuller than the one Brian was used to staring at, was also one he couldn’t deny.
After washing her slim hands and drying them with a paper towel, she slipped close to Brian, pressing skin to skin, so warm and soft, and kissed him on the cheek before lingering on his open mouth. He couldn’t keep what was in his pants from bumping against the soft, yielding features of her jeans.
Claire. It hit him at that moment that this was Claire, his girlfriend. What was the other name he was trying to think of? Was there someone else in the restroom? It slipped his mind. Probably wasn’t important. Claire enthusiastically leaned, turning to place her backside against him. It was like so many shameless couples during passing period who acted like the shadows were enough to hide them.
But there was no one else here. No one to watch. Someone could come in at any moment, which made his heart race. Her hand slipped into his waistband and traced him. He was close and could see the sly smirk on her face. She desperately wanted to play a few private games.
She didn’t seem worried that anyone could pop through the door and interrupt them. She surrounded his soul and teased every bit with warmth. It didn’t take long before Brian released all the tension he could ever imagine, and she was his obedient receiver. Claire was amazing.
Catching his breath, Brian puffed and staggered towards the nearest stall. He had to clean himself up before the next class. Without thinking, he slipped his gym pants down and plopped his butt on the chilly but comforting seat. He felt his still-tense aspects struggling to pee against the edge of the bowl. A swift current flowed lower on his body, straight into the porcelain. He made the same gasp of light-voiced relief as Clint. Brian dabbed lightly and wiped from front to back until he felt air dry.
Standing, he jiggled lightly in the confines of a special order bra covered by a cute burgundy, short-sleeved top that flashed her soft midriff. As always, she had to do a little dance to hike up her snug jeans, encasing her flowing, plump rear. She held her breath in as the buttons barely clasped. Walking out, she inspected herself in the nearest mirror.
Long, black hair with a bird-like curve at the top rested against her shoulders and sprawled out in long, straight strands to almost meet her bust. A bust that challenged Claire and nearly beat her. Not that Brianne wanted to show off. She preferred understated tops when posting her pics on Instagram and blushed whenever the boys called her a “goddess”. Her raccoon-like, shadowed eyes were always something Claire told her not to worry about. She had such tiny arms, especially for her 5’1” height. She was dwarfed by several inches when she stood by Claire, but Claire always made her feel like the biggest girl in class.
Sneaking behind her, Claire somehow found a way inside the prison of her jeans with her slim fingers. Brianne squirmed and almost had to clean herself up a second time from Claire’s loving assault. They kissed. Puzzling for a moment, Brianne almost thought she tasted something special on the edge of Claire’s lips. It had to be her dirty imagination.
They sometimes had adventures together with a certain JV linebacker, but, no matter how much she liked boys, Brianne loved Claire even more.
Hand-in-hand, they made their way out of the restroom and off to their next class.