17 | 𝐻𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝐵𝑜𝑦𝑠

It's the initial shock that could startle anyone.

When I watched Kayla and Jay react to Moose, they were more confused. They'd stare, cock their head slowly, and then continued to stare. The dog stood on my bed, two eyes on two opposite sides of his head and two fang teeth sticking out.

"It's... cute," Kayla murmured.

Jay nodded eagerly, gesturing a hand to the thing. "Adorable," he choked out, swallowing thickly.

After a while, his expression could grow on a person. He was actually sweet looking. I even think my mom found it smile-worthy when I was getting ready to ride with Kayla to school. I saw her sitting on the living room couch just staring at him. Though she kept trying to get both of his eyes to focus on her.

It didn't work.

Later on Friday, she slammed her locker door closed. Turning to me in seconds. "I can't believe you got a dog for Sullivan Corbett--"

"Not true," I remarked, "I did it because of Sullivan Corbett. What was I supposed to do? Tell him the truth?" I questioned like it was absurd. We started walking down the hallway. Her eyes training the tiles we rhythmically marched along.

"Oh, I don't know," she sarcastically muttered. "How about you just don't lie."

"It's not like that," I mused ironically, shaking my head and disappearing into the English classroom. "I wish it was that easy, but I'm going to return the dog--"

"That's rude," she uttered, continuing to suppress the middle row and find a seat in the far corner. I sat down in my usual assigned spot when suddenly a hand slammed against my desk, causing me to jolt. His other hand grabbed onto my chin, forcing me to look at him directly in the eyes. I could feel a swarm of butterflies control every part of me.

"Compliment him when he seats down. Be direct, be confident, be flirtatious." Victor dropped his hand causing mine to reflex around the small of his wrist.

"What are you talking about?" I questioned, lowering my tone and adding, "how do I be flirtatious?"

"I don't know, bite your lip or something!" he exclaimed quietly. At the order, my teeth snapped to my bottom lip, causing him to shake his head frantically in fear. "Bite, not engulf," he muttered shamefully. "Just... casual."

"Casual," I repeated, nodding my head. I tilted my chin up and gnawed tentatively on my lip in a 'seductive manor.'

"Oh, God, no!" he hurriedly turned down. "Try... twirling your hair?" he suggested, studying me the way that Kayla and Jay studied Moose.

I started to twist my finger repetitively around the single strand of hair whilst biting my lip. He held his hands up in surrender, stopping me. "Just, try being you?"

"I don't know how to be me!" I called over a few heads of students while Victor sauntered to his desk, glaring at some kid in the process.

When Sullivan walked through the door I felt the golden rays of sun follow after him. Life seemed to be in a time warp when he walked in the room. Everyone was dazed and walking in slow steps. His honey blond hair blowing in the wind. His sharp jawline cut through my mind, and instantly I forgot what Victor had said. He seated himself in front of me, due to the new seating arrangement where we had to sit near our partners.

I inhaled sharply, his strong smell of... a bit of sweat, underlying with deodorant fumes. He smelt like him though, and that was enough to make my heart pitter patter in my chest.

I was just continuing to stare at the pale complexion, glowing beneath his hairline along his neck when I heard a hiss across the back of the room. I saw Victor gesturing to Sullivan and I nodded in conclusion.

I reached over, swallowed my nerves down, the chill in my bone overwhelmingly hot. I tapped his broad and muscular shoulder shielded by his letterman jacket two times. He pivoted around in the desk, craning his neck to look at me.

I was speechless.

Fuck. I should've thought of a compliment first.

I beckoned my head to him and murmured dreamily, "you look great today. I like... y-your shirt."

"Really?" He seemed surprised. "I have like seven of these t-shirts in different colors." He laughed lightly, causing me to chuckle in return.

"Yeah, I love them," I replied, beginning to twist my right index finger around my caramel strand of hair.

"You love this brand?" he asked for validation, seeing me nod intently while twisting my hair out of anxiety, not even realizing I was continuously doing it. "Do you have a lot of Armani?"

"My whole wardrobe," I teased, twisting my hair around my finger to the knuckle.

"Then, we should match Monday," he suggested. "We can both wear our Armani clothes? How does that sound?"

Matching with Sullivan? Absolutely.

I nodded frantically, "yes, that sounds great."

I wonder what Armani is.

"Great!" he mused, just as he was spinning around, the teacher began the lesson, and a small noise released itself from my mouth. My scalp was being pulled by tight thin hairs twisting around the band of my ring.

I quietly, behind Sullivans' build, I tried prying my finger out of the hold of my hair, but the ring was stuck in numerous loops, cutting off the circulation of my finger ti[.

How is this even possible!? Shit! Ow! It hurts! God, ow! Why do I listen to Victor?

♡♡♡

"Vicky! Vicky! Vic!" I called silently as I watched him cross over the front of the classroom. My arm was sore, beginning to hurt as I struggled to pull my finger out of the endless ties of my hair.

Class was over and Sullivan was long gone in the chaos of the day, including Jay who took off with him and a couple of popular guys. Victor stopped at the front of the classroom, staring at me with confusion as my hand was stuck to the side of my head by the connection of numerous strands of hair.

"You alright over there?" he laughed, walking down the aisle of desks on my right side. My right hand stuck to the side of my face.

"No!" I cried out in agony, throat scratching. "Please! My ring got stuck with all your flirtatious crap!" I remarked, breath hitching in pain at the slightest of touch that Victor made on my hand.

Kayla approached on my left side, her eyes narrowing. "What is happening here?" She was watching as Victor tossed his bag down on the floor and worked gently around my finger.

"You're Kayla, right?" he asked casually, looking up to her, then over her body once after seeing her nod. "She got her ring stuck."

"Ow!" I yelped, feeling his hands fiddle with the tiny knots sporadically lining around my finger.

Kayla squinted her eyes on the knots. "How did this even happen?"

Victor towered over me, working his hands on my head. "Because, God forbid I give her advice for Sullivan," he groaned, tugging on my hand, causing my whole head to lean into the movement.

"Ow, my hand is kind of attached!" I whined. When he pulled the knots again, my left hand swung and clutched onto his waist, my whole body lifting out of the seat. I could sense Kayla's jealousy.

"Give me a boner, why don't you?" he sarcastically uttered under his breath. My hand flew off him and back onto the desk as my forehead pressed against his abdomen.

"I'm in pain, how are you getting a boner?" I questioned, but I should've known the answer that was evidently going to come.

"Pain's my thing, Rhy," he mused. He glanced up at Kayla who quirked a brow. "Taking note of that, sweetheart?" he asked, causing her to flush red.

"No, in your dreams." She folded her arms over her maroon floral sheer top with a red tank top below it, prompting her chest closer to the revealing mesh.

"Are you watching?" he suddenly questioned, yanking at my hair purposefully. His nails dug into the tiny baby hairs that twisted together making me release a noise.

"Kinda looking at the floor," I admitted with a dark flush of redness, no doubt having looked at it.

"Looking at the floor?" he echoed and I could feel his eye roll, since my forehead pressed against his stomach and he'd assumed I was looking at his jeans, slightly more accentuated.

Okay, I was, but I wasn't staring-ish!

"Shut up." I paused, but he tugged on a softer strand. "Ow! Fuck, Victor!"

"Language," shot Mrs. Allen as she paced the length behind her desk with papers caged in her hands. I was going to apologize, but he spoke over my meek voice.

"Dirty mind, Rhy. I wasn't talking about my hard-on, but now I know you re definitely looking..." he jested, fixing himself and trailing off. "I was saying," Victor lectured, "Kayla bit her lip, the correct way."

"Whatever," I groaned, digging my forehead into his muscular chest as he suddenly backed away. I looked up with my hand slightly looser than before. A longer strand of hair attached from my index finger and head.

"I'm done with this," he uttered, causing me to freak out, but then I watched as he slipped his hand into his jean pocket, slipping out a pocket knife which he toyed with in his hand, flicking it open casually. The sharp razor blade popped out and reflected the fluorescent lights of the ceilings.

"No-no-no--" I panicked, pushing up against the seats' backing, receiving Mrs. Allens' eyes of horror at the scene of Victor holding a pocket knife above my head.

"What is happening, Mr. Vislocky?" she pressed, but he only leaned closer to my head.

"Nothing you haven't seen before, Miss," he joked, drawing the sharp edge closer to my head. His muscles rippled in my sight beneath the thin fabric.

"You're gonna take my finger off!" I voiced. My heart panicked, drumming against my ribcage and barreling around my ears. I paled as he neared, my fingers tingling and preparing for the slice and seeing my finger on the floor.

"Don't flinch," he warned, drawing the sharper end of the knife up to the ceiling, taking the one long piece of hair and folding it on either side to create a thicker surface to cut through. I felt the palm of his hand snug against my head, protectively holding my body in place away from the knife.

Mrs. Allens' troubles began to rise in volume as he suddenly tore through the hair, the knife soaring up and away from my head. The hair disconnected, one half against my skull, the other against my forearm.

"I have scissors," Mrs. Allen sighed, holding the pair out in front of her.

"That would've helped," he joked lightly, but turned to me and said, "I told you I wouldn't hurt you, Love," he teased lightly, picking up his backpack from the ground, shoving his knife back in his pocket.

"You never said that," I uttered, standing up to stare up at his brown irises.

"Well, I'm saying it now," he joked, shooting his eyes down to my... and apparently our engagement ring. "I'll see you around and try not to... get hurt next time," he lectured, but I knew that was implying something. He gave a curt nod to Mrs. Allen, but stopped at the end of the aisle and announced, "bye, Kay."

When he walked out and a deafening silence was upon us, Mrs. Allen said, "urgh, to have to deal with the hormonal boys," she chuckled, nearing her desk. "Be careful."

"Yes, Mrs. Allen," Kayla replied, just for the sake of saying something. I knew she was on the verge of passing out and fighting me because of jealousy.

I couldn't blame her though, but that did stop us from walking out of the building, acting like our whole world was flipped around. When we were drawing closer to the exit doors, my ring slipped into my backpack, still tangled in hairs while I declared, "can we go to Armani?"

"Armani?" she repeated slower. "That's super expensive."

"No, Sullivan has like a ton of those shirts. I said that I had some of that Armani stuff. It can't be that expensive," I rambled, driving my hand to my phone and fishing it out of my pocket. I looked through Google, typing in the brand and searching.

My jaw clambered to the ground at the prices. Even the website looked expensive, but I was pulled out of my thoughts as a hand cupped my shoulder. I leisurely turned to Kayla who smiled as wide as California to New York. She tested me, "how's the money lookin' now, dog owner?"

♡♡♡

"I haven't seen Kayla and Jay in a while. Well, I mean, I just saw them yesterday and today at school, but I haven't spent time with them. Besides," I started, more peppier sounding. "I have you to take their place."

Silence.

He wasn't even looking at me. He was standing before me, but his eyes were on polar opposite sides of my room. His tongue stuck out between the two teeth that hung over his lip. I sighed. "You're an interesting looking thing. I'm sorry, but I will have to return you. Mom wasn't too pleased that you peed on her couch."

Silence.

"Well," I began again. "Look on the bright side, you can find a family who loves you!"

I looked back at Moose, but now, his eyes were glossy and one single tear dribbled over his cheek and left a circular stain on my bed. I squinted my eyes, the door opening to my bedroom went dismissed. "I swear, he's crying."

"Sullivan is here," she murmured between the crack in the doorway. She raised her eyebrows.

"It's been twenty minutes since we last talked," I admitted, staring at the mirror, anxiety fluttering in my stomach. "I've somehow gotten more of a stomach ache."

"It's okay," she breathed, "you guys just have to watch a movie, right?"

"Yeah, the first one," I responded.

"Well, before you know it, it'll be dinner time, then he'll go home--"

I spat out with spurts of laughter, "you don't have to rush it that much." I flattened my hands along my hoodie, the bold letters of some college written over the front. I was basic, what could I say? I sported a pair of leggings and sneakers, but my leggings had strands of hair coating the exterior.

"Mom," I deadpanned quietly, just as she was about to turn away. "Why are my leggings disgusting?"

She stifled a chuckle. "Oh my, who could the culprit be?" she questionined. "Do you know, Moose?"

Silence.

We both simultaneously turned our heads and walked on either side around my bed because my headboard was blocking the view.

We stood on opposite sides and my mom's smile grew exceptionally big. "Would you look at that?" she asked, beckoning a hand to Moose who was now sitting. "He's looking at us and he sat down."

"Progress," I concluded. "But not the time--Sullivan is here."

"He's been in the living room for like five minutes," my mom courteously added.

I panicked, racing around my room like a mad woman. "Mom! You let him just wait downstairs?" I retorted, grabbing onto my pencils and a water bottle before surpassing her and darting down the hallway.

"You're gonna leave little Moose?" she called. "You know he can't hop down! The arthritis!"

When I was down the stairs, ignoring my last pleas from my mother, I panted heavily when I arrived at the bottom step, glancing over to Sullivan who was awkwardly sitting on the couch. My couch. He was sitting on it, backpack by his feet, and a perfect golden wave from his hairline, extending off an inch or two. His green eyes were strong, but reserved, continuing to snap down to the floor.

"Hey," I greeted, "Sorry, I had to--"

"Jesus Christ," my mom exhaled, appearing behind me on the staircase. She was hauling Moose down the stairs. "He's getting chubby," she noted, reaching the floors and plopping him down where he stood, and stood, and stood, nothing else.

Good grief.

I promised him a big dog.

"This is your big guy?" he laughed, gesturing a hand to the chihuahua who couldn't look at him head on. The strays of gray hair stuck up behind his ears frizzly.

"Yep," I emphasized, staring at him. I tightened the elastic around my ponytail. The tips of my caramel hair brushing behind my hoodie. "Don't height shame him, he's sensitive."

"How long have you guys had him?" Sullivan wondered. Looking up to both my mothers' and my standing positions compared to his spot on the ash-gray sofa.

"Not even three da--" my mom started.

I tensed and said loudly, "years." Pausing to reflect and alleviate my moms' confusion and face of stubbornness as I repeated again, "years, not even three years."

"Wow, crazy. Did he always look... like that?" he asked nicely, chuckling with his words.

"Yeah," my mom answered for me. "He's always had that face only a mother could love." Her voice was stern and implying something, but she was beginning to exit the living room after grabbing the remote from the alcove in the wall and placing it on the coffee table before us. "Enjoy your movie."

"Thank you, Mrs. Kellman," he asserted before leaning back on the couch. I sat down beside him, half a cushion between us. His eyes focused on the far side of the wall as he pointed to a series of pictures. "Is that Kayla?" he pressed.

I froze for a second, narrowing in on what he was talking about, but I didn't know what picture  specifically since there were multiple of her in the room. "Probably," I replied, switching channels. "She's basically my mom's second daughter.

"That's sweet."

I wanted to say something else to create a traveling conversation, but I couldn't think of anything on the spot and decided to just put on the movie we had to watch. I leaned back on the cushion, swiping a blanket from the top. "Shit, we only have one blanket here," I voiced, "I could go get you one--"

"No, we can share," he replied, causing a flare of redness to spike along my cheeks and warm the back of my neck. The tips of my ears were prickling, dotting with redness as he shifted a cushion over. A small inch of space between his leg and mine while the blanket pooled over us, the soft gray wool hovering upon our laps.

My heart died and I couldn't pay attention to the movie, though I tried with every ounce in me. I was tense and couldn't properly settle into the sofa, my back stiff and aching for me to relax, but I couldn't. I was dying from just being in his atmosphere.

That was when his arm flew over my head and rested right behind me. I couldn't feel his arm, but I knew it was right there behind my skull. I got a whiff of deodorant in the air, not the most pleasant smell, but it was Sullivans' and that thought alone made me nearly faint.

The black and white film began to flicker over the TV screen, the go-lucky music playing through the room as the actors raced across the screen in a quick fashion. Suddenly the screen went black and words laid out before us.

'After a few months--'

"Limpy Bill," the Boy's pal-

One pocketbook between them-- usually empty--

x