Rocco had also started to come to accept his sexuality for the most part. He had always known in his heart that he was attracted to boys the way that guys his age were attracted to girls. He had always been teased and bullied for being different. Other guys seemed to pick up on his budding sexuality. There was the time in 5th grade when he was playing Uno with his two male friends at the time. The class bully came up and kicked the cards all over the ground. “Cards are for sissies!” he sang followed by “Go play house with your boyfriends!”

There was the time in the gym locker room in 7th grade when Rocco got caught gazing just a second too long at another guy. “Quit staring at me, queer!” that guy replied followed by the multitudes of “faggot”, “gayfer”, and “homo” from the other guys. Afterwards, all the guys in the locker room kept their distance from Rocco. There was that one time, a year later, when one guy walked by and pulled his dick out and said, “Like what you see, faggot?”

It was obvious to everyone that Rocco was not 100% straight. This always made Rocco wonder why any girls liked him. Throughout his school time so far, there was always a girl that had a crush on him. Rocco would be shocked when he found out. He never pursued any girls. Not wanting to lose out on the opportunity to prove to everyone that he was not gay, he would be okay with being their boyfriend even though he would not reciprocate the girl’s feelings. If he had a girlfriend, no one would question his sexuality, he thought. Everyone would be shocked when they found out Rocco was going out with a girl. The relationship would usually last a month or two and fizzle out when the girl’s attention went to a more attentive guy.

Something changed over the summer. Maybe it was all the television he watched that had a token gay character—the increased visibility and acceptance of gay culture. Maybe it was the “whatever” attitude creeping into the youth of the new decade—the need to rebel against the sellout Boomers. Maybe it was all the time he spent skateboarding alone that made him think. Maybe it was all the weed he smoked. Something loosened up in him over the summer. He was at ease with the idea of exploring his attraction to other guys. He was not at a point of completely coming out of the closet, but, if the opportunity came up to hook up with a guy, he would try it out.

That seemed to be an empty promise in Miners Creek, Tennessee. No one he knew personally was openly gay. Rocco’s friend group were the punks, skaters, and the misfits. None of them seemed overtly conservative but none seemed particularly progressive. He got the impression that all his friends knew about his sexuality and didn’t really care. They just did not want to know about it— it’s cool if you’re gay, but let’s not go any further on that topic.

Only the overtly gay guys would get beaten up. Rocco knew of this one guy a year under him who came out. This guy had a perpetual black eye from the daily beatings. However, this guy always wore his rainbow colors proud. Rocco admired this guy even if he didn’t know him personally. There were plenty of openly gay adults in town that did not have issues. These adults also had plenty of money and privilege and could easily take their community investments elsewhere. The town had a begrudging tolerance of these folks. Again, I’m ok with gay people but I don’t want to see it.

Being gay was not at all popular in this high school. So, there was Rocco— gay on the inside, kind of asexual on the outside. Last year someone wrote in his yearbook:

You’re a cheesy fag

but you smoke dope

so you’re cool.

That summed up his social status and sexual identity beautifully. So, Rocco would remain silently curious even though he knew fully well that he only was attracted to guys.

The bell rang indicating it was time to get to class—the first period of his first day of senior year. His flannel shirt had a faint scent of weed…man he wished he had a buzz going right now. He was glad to be out of the house away from his overbearing mother. He was glad to be with his friends.

“What up Roc,” his best friend in the world, Austin, said from behind him. Austin was an all-around good guy—an unassumingly standard white guy from a decent family. He had known Austin since 7th grade. Austin’s family had just moved into town. Rocco knew that feeling. Rocco and his mom moved back down south from Pennsylvania when he was in the 4th grade. She had just divorced her second husband and felt the need to uproot everything and move back home. Rocco had only visited his grandparents, so Miners Creek was never home to him. Rocco’s dad was in the Navy, so he had been raised all over the place. He never developed his mom’s thick southern accent. From the start, Rocco never felt like he belonged to one place. His dad eventually bought a house in Virginia and stayed there for a considerable amount of time. The year before Rocco met Austin, Rocco’s dad was killed in an accident.

There was something about losing a parent and being the new guy in school that made Rocco and Austin bond. Maybe it was the shared sense of loss. Whatever it was, they clicked. They could give each other a glance and bust out laughing when the teacher said something unintentionally dirty—like the word “nuts” or “screw”. They had created the term “tater tits” when tater tots were on the lunch menu.

“Dude, I’m off to class,” Rocco replied.

“What do you have now?” Austin asked.

“Civics One,” Rocco rolled his eyes. This was going to be an easy A class. “I’ve got Civics 1 and 2, psychology and sociology, English, Spanish, calculus and physics. You?”

Austin replied, “Drafting, calculus, physics, English, accounting, and chemistry. Damn, we are not sharing any classes this year except English. That’s during my lunch. “

“Yeah, same here,” Rocco replied. “So, we got one class together.” Rocco was relieved he would get to have lunch with his best friend. He hated having to eat with strangers.

The bell rang to alert everyone to get in their seats.

“I’ll save you a seat in English,” Austin said and ran off downstairs. Rocco looked after him as he went down the stairs. Yeah, it really was great to see Austin. He was gone most of the summer, so they didn’t get a chance to hang out much. Austin had started to let his hair grow out into a pseudo mullet which was the current style. Rocco preferred to keep a Caesar cut thinking he would bring some style to this shit town.

Rocco entered the classroom just in time for the late bell to ring.

“Everyone, find a seat.” The teacher yelled. Civics 1 and 2 were to be taught by Mr. Pendleton. He had a reputation for being a super easy teacher. Rocco wanted that

Rocco knew two people in this class, but they sat in the back of the room where all the seats were occupied. It was a mixed grade elective meaning sophomores, juniors, and seniors could take the class. Their high school was only 10, 11, and 12th grades. The class was mostly juniors. He knew a few juniors, but the ones he did know were not in this class. The juniors in here he had only recognized but didn’t know them. The sophomores were new, so he hadn’t had a chance to meet any of them yet. Rocco stood there looking for an empty seat preferably a lefty desk.

“There’s an empty seat right there, Rocco.” The teacher pointed to a chair in the second row a bit off center. The seat was behind a guy staring at him. Rocco noticed this guy’s strawberry blond hair and round tortoise shell glasses—an attractive fellow but nothing stunning. He looked a bit like a ginger version of Cary Elwes. He had to be a sophomore, because he didn’t look familiar. He also looked like a little kid even though he had a hint of orange upper lip stubble. He was wearing a tennis sweater, a pair of purple Duckhead shorts, and brown penny loafers. Obviously, he was going for a preppy vibe. As Rocco approached him to occupy the empty seat, the guy’s blue eyes stared into Rocco’s dark brown eyes. Rocco gave him a nod and a “what’s up” before sliding into the seat. Rocco noticed him glance over his shoulder. At first, Rocco thought it was a little unsettling but eased up. Perhaps he knew him somehow somewhere.

The desks in the room were the type that were a chair with an arm platform for writing. The chairs were various colors, but they all had a large hole in the back so that a person’s waistband could be seen from the person behind. This led to many glimpses of ass cracks throughout Rocco’s tenure. The desks also had an attached wire rack under the chair for books. Often, the person behind would insert their feet if the rack was not used to further slouch down into the desk. Rocco did just this activity. As he perched his feet into the rack, his knees rested against the guy’s lower back that was visible through the chair hole.

Most guys would scoot away in their chair to avoid touching, or they do nothing. Not this guy. He pressed closer into Rocco’s knees. That was a bit of an unexpected reaction. Was he trying to claim his territory or was he enjoying this physical contact? Rocco started to study the back of this guy’s head. He noticed the way his red hair swirled counterclockwise around his crown. He noticed the neat conservative haircut that was short on the sides and back and longer towards the top and front. He noticed the pale, freckled complexion of his neck. He noticed how the tennis sweater vest was bright and clean—the mark that his parents regularly did laundry. This guy was put together well unlike Rocco’s grungy attire of flannel, a Fugazi t-shirt, and faded jeans with a hole in the left knee. The thing that Rocco noticed the most was the smell of freshly applied Polo cologne—a very clean and light scent. This guy must have felt Rocco’s gaze. Rocco noticed the guy’s ears turn red. This guy started to turn to look over his shoulder, so Rocco quickly averted his gaze down to his bookbag.

As Rocco dug through his bookbag for a pencil and a notebook, the teacher shushed the class and began:

“Welcome to Civics 1, let me first take role to see who is here…Mike Barber”

The guy in front of him said here. Mike Barber. That’s what this guy’s name is. Mike Barber. That name sounded kind of familiar. Was he related to Joe Barber, the quarterback of the football team? Joe Barber was as a senior like Rocco. Was this Joe’s little brother?

Rocco did not know much about Joe, but Rocco lusted after him since he started high school. Joe was always athletic and had a muscular physique as long Rocco knew him. Joe had become massive in size over the past two year. Mike looked nothing like Joe, however. Mike was thinner—not lanky—just kind of average in size and height. Mike was not a jock. Joe’s features were also darker. He had brown hair and eyes and a smooth medium complexion. Mike was a ginger with blue eyes and pale skin. Mike also was covered in freckles. Although he did not get a detailed looked at Mike, Rocco would have to really strain to find any resemblance between the two brothers, if they were related. Mike could have a been a cousin for all he knew.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The teacher kept going down the list of students each replying with a here. When the teacher got to Rocco, he said his full name Marcus Rocio but then corrected himself by half stating/half asking, “but you go by Rocco, right?” Rocco nodded. Rocco noticed that it looked like Mike wrote something down.

“Alright. Now that’s out of the way, let’s get into the subject at hand,” Mr. Pendleton said as he explained what civics was and what he expected from class. It would be interactive with plenty of in-class exercises. All during this speech, Rocco could not stop thinking about the soft scent of Polo cologne coming from Mike. Rocco was mostly indifferent towards the scent but something about how it mixed with Mike’s pheromones made Rocco see sparkles in his peripheral vision. He was intoxicated.

Mr. Pendleton snapped Rocco out of his trance. “We are going to do an icebreaker exercise. I’m going to pair you with another student and have you answer a few questions about each other. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you introduce each other to the class or anything like that. Just focus on the questions.”

Rocco hoped he would get someone interesting at least for this exercise. He was kind of hoping to be paired with this guy in front of him with the intoxicating scent. Mr. Pendleton continued, “The first and third rows turn your desks around to face the person behind you. This will be your partner.” YES! Rocco thought, face to face with the scent!

As everyone in the first and third rows turned their chair desks around, Rocco started to get a good look at Mike Barber. He could now see the resemblance between Mike and Joe Barber in profile. The two shared the same button nose and full lips. Mike remained in his chair while scooting his desk around. The motions were slightly comical. He was making Rocco smile then chuckle. Mike was three quarters turned around when he looked up at Rocco and saw him laughing.

“Hey, there,” Rocco said.

Mike gave him an awkward smile and said, “I guess I could have just gotten up and moved my chair.”

Mike

Mike took a deep breath and got out of his brother’s BMW. His brother, Joe, was the quarterback of the football team—the star athlete of the family. Mike played baseball in junior high but lost interest in any kind of a team sport over the summer between junior and senior high. He tried out for the football team like his brother; however, he was getting tired of living in the shadow of him. He wanted to be Mike Barber, not Joe Barber’s little brother. He knew that starting high school would give him a chance to break out of that pattern. Of course, he would still have his old friends from junior high since there was just one senior high school in the county. However, there would be a ton of other new faces that would not know who his brother was. So, there would be a chance he could be a brand-new Mike Barber to some other faces. It would be his sophomore year—10th grade. The real deal.

He was also practically shaking with anxiety. He hated change. His family had lived in this county his entire life. His elementary and junior high were in the same building so that transition was not very much different. This was a big change, however—new faces, a new building. He wanted to make a good impression, so he put on his new tennis sweater, purple shorts, and penny loafers. He saw this outfit in a magazine and thought it would look great on the first day of in his new school.

He knew this year would set him up for the rest of the three years he would spend here. His brother would likely get a football scholarship to the big state college. Since Mike was not going to play a sport, he knew the best way to get into college was with his academics. Of course, his family would help with the finances. They were well-off which was an asset for his popularity scores. He was also Joe’s brother so, even though he wanted to set himself apart from his brother, it would be completely unavoidable. Mike could at least mooch off him for that much needed social capital.

His grades were alright. He was smart, but his social life with his friends took away from his study time. He was already somewhat popular with the in-crowd at his junior high, but this would be a different arena. He and his friends would have to use their family’s status and other connections to climb the social ladder of the high school hierarchy. It could be an uphill battle, but he was going to do it.

Before he walked in the door with his brother, he ran his hands through his red hair and took a deep breath. His brother looked back and gave him a smirk.

“Don’t worry about this. You’ll be fine. I’ll introduce you around to get started,” Joe told him. Before they were able to pass the threshold of the building, a mixed group of guys and girls with impeccable appearance approached Joe.

“Hey Joe, good summer?” one of the guys in the group said.

“Abso-fucking-lutely except for summer practice,” Joe said. “This is my little brother, Mike. This is his first day here.”

The girls in the group smiled and gave a collective “aahh”. One even pinched his cheek and told him he was so cute. Mike blushed but smiled and shrugged.

“We’ll be nice,” another guy in the group said.

Nothing to worry about Mike thought to himself. The group went to a spot in the center of the building to hang out before class called The Haven. It was a mix of all the popular juniors and seniors who had already known each other well. The air was thick with Cool Water and Love’s Baby Soft. Some of the girls in the group were swapping makeup and trying out different color pallets. Some of them where teasing and spraying their hair high. The guys were talking about their summer and giving passing people side-eye. Mike stood there a few minutes in silence watching the spectacle. This was a very similar set up to how it was in junior high.

From out of the stream of kids going to and from in the hall, his best friend, Chris, emerged and approached Mike.

“Hey Mike, what’s up?” he said standing next to him in the gaggle of popular kids.

“Not much, man. How was your trip?” Mike asked. Chris’s family had taken a vacation to Italy a couple of weeks before school started. They always went somewhere out of the country towards the end of summer. Mike hadn’t talked to Chris since they returned.

“It was alright. My parent’s loved it, but I was kinda bored the whole time.”

“That sucks,” Mike replied putting his left hand in his pocket.

“You ready for this?” Chris looked at him eagerly.

“I think so,” Mike said and looked at the crowd. “You think this is where we will hang out for the next three years?” he whispered to Chris.

“I guess so,” Chris said nonchalantly. “What’s your classes?”

“I got Civics 1 and 2, Psychology and Sociology, math, English, biology, and PE. You?”

“Hmmm, I’ve got math, English, history, biology, drafting, and soccer practice. How did you get out of history?” Chris asked.

“Civics and Psychology count as social studies,” Mike said.

“Ah man, really? I wish I knew that. I hate history,” Chris gave a grimace.

“Yeah, me too. That’s why I didn’t sign up for it,” Mike gave Chris a goofy grin and the two laughed.

“So, have you met anyone here?” Chris asked eyeing the popular kids.

“No. I just followed my brother over here,” Mike looked at the other students. In his gut, he was not too impressed with this popular group. They seemed so superficial. They were talking about stupid things like clothes, makeup, and football. His first impression was that they all seemed so petty. Perhaps he just needed to give them a chance. That seemed to be his life up to this point—placed in a group because of his family but not really belonging. Somewhere in his soul, he felt like the outsider in the popular group even though he had no problem fitting in—at least on the outside. Mike could never pinpoint why he felt like he didn’t belong, but he always did. He had the right clothes, he acted the right way, he had the right girlfriends, but nothing ever relieved these feelings. Maybe this was the year to figure that out.

“Sorry about not making the football team,” Chris said.

“It’s ok. I didn’t really try. I’m not sure I wanted to be on a team,” Mike shrugged. “By the way, congratulations on making the soccer team!”

“Thanks! I’m super stoked,” Chris boasted.

The bell rang indicating it was time to get to class.

“Well, we better go. I don’t want to late for my first day of high school,” Mike said. Chris laughed and nodded goofily. Mike waved to his brother who was too busy to acknowledge him. None of the group looked like they had the intention of getting to class. Mike and Chris walked up to the second floor together. At the top of the stairs, they parted ways.

Mike looked back as Chris walked down the hall. He was a good friend, but it was not a very deep friendship. They played various sports in junior high together and had sleepovers often. They went to parties together and hung out all the time. Even with all that time spent together, Mike felt that they didn’t really talk about anything important.

Mike yearned to have a deep connection with another male friend. There were so many things he wanted to know about what it means to be a guy in this world. He had so many feelings about everything that he wanted to share with another guy. Chris was not that guy. One time, Mike asked him if he ever wondered if other guys cried. Chris just gave him a blank look and said maybe when they were babies. That was as good as he was going to get from Chris. He was still a good guy though. Maybe that’s why he didn’t feel like he fit in. He was too sensitive for a guy. He felt things too deeply.

Mike walked into a half empty room. He spotted an empty desk in the front and sat down. He did not know anyone in the room. As students trickled in, all the faces were unfamiliar. Maybe all his friends did not realize that they did not have to take history. Kind of figures they would just go with what everyone else did. He sat there uncomfortably—too nervous to notice the series of bells.

He was already in his seat, so the bells were not much of a concern. Then, his eyes caught sight of Rocco. Rocco entered the classroom just in time for the late bell to ring. The random chatter in the room dulled to a quiet murmur. His vision tunneled and he started to see fireworks. Who was this guy?

This gay was an ethnically ambiguous creature. Mike couldn’t tell if he was Italian, Asian, Latino, Native American, or some mix of them all. He had the blackest hair he had ever seen. It was perfectly gelled down covering his forehead almost down to his eyebrows. It was so black that it was blue—kind of like how they draw Superman. He had perfect tanned skin and deep brown eyes. He had the fullest set of lips he had ever seen on a guy. Girls would have killed for those lips. His profile was very Romanesque in the best way possible. Compared to other guys, this creature was one of the most handsome guys that Mike had ever seen. His breath was almost taken out of his lungs at the sight of the guy. This was a new feeling for Mike—he had never been so taken for a guy. What was going on with him?

As this guy approached him to occupy the empty seat, Mike stared into his dark brown eyes. This guy gave him a nod and a “what’s up” before sliding into the seat. Mike blushed but glanced over his shoulder. As he passed him, Mike got a whiff of soap and hair gel. Under that was his natural scent—earthy and slightly like a spicy dark chocolate. He could see this guy start to form a quizzical look but then relax his face.

“Everyone, find a seat.” Mr. Pendleton yelled.

This mystery guy put his feet in the wire rack under the chair part of the desk. Mike felt his knees rest again his lower back which was visible through the chair hole. Mike felt a deep shudder inside himself as he pressed closer into his knees. He wanted to do anything to be in contact with this guy. He felt his eyes on the back of his head which make Mike blush. Mike started to turn to look over his shoulder to get a peek at him one more time but saw that he was digging deep into his bookbag. Mike turned back around just as the teacher spoke:

“Welcome to Civics 1, let me first take role to see who is here…Mike Barber”

“Here,” Mike said.

The teacher kept going down the list of students each replying with a “here”. When the teacher got to this guy, he said his full name, Marcus Rocio, but then corrected himself by half stating/half asking, “but you go by Rocco, right?” to which Rocco nodded. Marcus Rocio? What’s the story with that name Mike wondered. How did he get Rocco out of that? Mike wrote “Marcus Rocio” in his notebook. Marcus sounded Italian but was Rocio also Italian?

“Alright. Now that’s out of the way, let’s get to the subject at hand,” Mr. Pendleton started going on about something, but Mike was not paying attention. He was too busy thinking about Rocco.

Mr. Pendleton snapped Mike out of his trance. “We are going to do an icebreaker exercise. I’m going to pair you with another student and have you answer a few questions about each other. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you introduce each other to the class or anything like that. Just focus on the questions.” Mike really hoped he would get paired with Rocco. He wanted to know so much about him. He wanted to stare into Rocco’s dark eyes in the hopes of a glimpse at his soul. Mr. Pendleton continued, “The first and third rows turn your desks around to face the person behind you. This will be your partner.” YES! Mike thought, face to face with Rocco!

Mike started to scoot his chair around without leaving it. It was quite a clunky endeavor. He must have looked ridiculous doing this. Mike saw that Rocco was laughing at this spectacle. Mike blushed—not a great first impression.

“Hey, there,” Rocco said.

Mike gave him an awkward smile and said, “I guess I could have just gotten up and moved my chair.”