➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

You know that guy at your high school who seems to have everything? You know-- the one that is exceptionally smart, doesn't have to study, gets his homework done in class, and is still at the top of his class? The one who the teachers love because he's charismatic, he's in the National Honors Society, and he's in just about every club at school? Except band... and drama... because that's for nerds? He's also in every sport, you know, football in the fall, wrestling in the winter, and lacrosse in the spring?

Well, that guy is me.

Don't hate. I can't help it I have parents who are over the top, up tight maniacs that push me to be an overachiever. My mom wakes me every morning to run on the treadmill and do my workout regimen at 5:00 a.m. Then she brings me a protein shake, finally I shower, and she drives me to school. It kinda sucks, but I'm used to it. She's always believed I have too much potential, and if she treats me like the average kid I'll act like one.

My mom said she knew I was destined to solve the world's problems one day, like global hunger, or world peace. Personally, I'm not sure I agree with her, but I do think whatever I decide to put my mind to, when the time comes, I will succeed.

I was put through a series of tests at the age of seven. The first part was written, and the second was verbal. My I.Q. was off the grid. The Doc wanted to know if I not only had the brains, but the drive. I was taken into another room where they set two marshmallows in front of me. If I waited to eat them until the Doc came back, I would be given double the treats. I sat in the desk for what seemed like an entire episode of SpongeBob. Sweat drizzled down my brow as I rested my cheeks into my palms, staring down at the chalk-white cylinders that rested on a napkin under my nose. The sweet smell wafted into my nostrills.

Just when I thought I couldn't stand it anymore the Doc entered. We met eyes, and she wrote something on her clipboard. "Congratulations, Jayden. You passed." It felt like a light was shining down from heaven. I could hear the angels sing as I lifted my palms up. She rewarded me with two more. Just a little bit of self-control can bring big rewards.

It was at that moment I knew I wanted to be the best at everything I did. The first rule I began to live by— everything is a competition. Every paper I brought home had a star on it. When each semester ended, I earned a certificate that Mom put on the fridge to display. Other mothers' on the block came over and made comments about them. "Wow, top of the class," was my favorite, or, "Highest honors. You must study hard." Mom beamed at me while my little brother, Camron, sulked.

Fast forward— Now my acceptance letter to Princeton greets my family every time they open the fridge to get a glass of milk. Even my dad sticks his chest out when he makes eye contact with it. His ego inflates just by knowing he produced offspring that, "will go to school where former presidents graduated".

We're on our way to school. Mom insists on driving us every morning. She calls herself the "kid's chauffer" and wears a "boy mom" T-shirt. She's my biggest fan at my games, cheering and whooping. The last time I made a touchdown I thought she might jump over the stands onto the field so everyone knew she was my mom. Thankfully the railing was enough to contain her.

Being driven to school all these years is better than having to take the bus, but what I really want is my own ride. All Mom has ever wanted is to be a stay at home mom and run us around. After everything she's done for me, I can't take that joy from her.

I catch a glimpse of Camron from the backseat, pulling his earbud out. "Can we stop by Dream Bean this morning?" He's fighting to keep his eyelids open. I know how he feels. He stays after school for all my games, watching the cheerleaders—more specifically Jake, the varsity cheer captain. Sometimes he copies the dance routines when he doesn't think anyone is watching him. I don't understand why he doesn't try out for the team if he wants to be in it so bad. When we were kids we played Power Rangers. He always wanted to be Kim. I'd try to get him to fight me, but he was too busy trying to set up a tea parties with our tyrannosaurus.

Back to Jake—he's gay. Not only is he physically fit, he's a senior, and head of the debate team. He's only an acquaintance but he seems cool. Our paths don't usually cross because we have different interests.

Mom glances at the clock. "I don't know, sweetie, I'm meeting this morning after I drop you off."

Camron turns to scowl out the window, gently resting his elbow in his palm.

I give Mom a side glance. "Bummer. I could use an espresso." I look down the block. The trees and lamp posts line the sidewalks as we roll by.

Mom sighs as the corners of my lips turn up. She makes a U-turn at the light. Her brown hair is pulled into a messy bun, and her slender frame makes her look tiny in the seat of the Suburban.

One thing I've learned— you can manipulate just about anyone in any situation once you have a rapport. What they say about it not being what you know, but who you know, totally holds water. What they forgot to mention is the enemies that spring up under your heel after every step up the ladder. One false move and they will cast you into the cesspool of blurry faces.

We pull into the parking lot in front of the neon sign with a unicorn that says Dream Bean on it.

We follow Mom as she makes a beeline to the counter. "Three espressos, please."

The man behind the counter grabs three hot cups, asks for our names, and writes our names on them.

Camron pulls a face, and I know it's because he really wants the unicorn frappe.

"Actually, can you make one the unicorn frappe?" I ask.

Mom's eyes dart over to me, and with a hint of sarcasm she says, "There isn't caffeine in the unicorn frappe."

I flash a smile at her. "I know, but it's what Camron wants."

Cameron runs his hand up the back of his neck. His hair is combed up like Brandon Urie's, his idol. He pretends to be absorbed into staring at ceiling tiles while mom's eyes shoot darts in his direction. She pays while the baristas whip up the drinks.

We wait at the other end of the counter while a line of students from our school bottlenecks up to the register. Our espressos are passed to us and I get my first bite from the Dream Bean liquid. I can already feel my body perking up as the caffeine assaults my tongue.

Camron reaches for his frappe. Its pink with blue with yellow drizzle and whipped crème on top that floats like an iceberg with sprinkles on top. He narrows his eyes at me. "Don't say a word."

I crack a smile. The first time he ordered one I teased him that it came from authentic unicorn vomit, and the whipped crème was from its whisked up farts.

A girl standing in line catches my eye. Sarah, a girl I hooked up with a few nights ago makes direct eye contact with me. She has long dark hair that goes all the way down to her waist. My eyes trace the ridge around her lips where there's a dip below her septum. I remember how soft they were as they trekked down my neck. I feel awkward next to my mom. I look away and the three of us stride by. I feel her eyes following me as I hold the door for my mom and Camron. I give her one last glance. She's staring at me with her lips parted. Her eyebrows pull together slightly as if she doesn't understand why I ignore her.

I turn and leave. We were nothing. Just somebody that I used to know.

Are you judging me? Just so you know, we were never close. She was planning our children's names while I was zipping my pants and wondering what time to be home for dinner. Here's an equation to help solve the problem: getting too close + too fast = awkward. It's a predictable answer I've come to know too well. That feeling in your stomach a couple minutes after doing the nasty, when your penis no longer has you convinced that the world has stopped for this moment, and you realize you don't know this person. You should have exercised self-control, but in the moments preceding it that seemed overrated.

We get into the Suburban and Mom takes us to school. We pull into the circle by the flagpole.

"Have a good day, honies. Love you," she calls, blowing us kisses.

Cameron barely looks in her direction, gives her a quick wave, and runs to his girlfriends-- as in girls that are his friends. They seem to understand when he gets in his "feelings". Something I'll probably never understand.

"Bye Mom." I take my football gear and carry it into school.

***

I meet up with my three best buds inside. We've known each other since elementary school. We head down the hallway sporting our letterman jackets. A few freshmen ricochet off us like basketballs on a brick wall. Some people seem to think we're pompous assholes who've had everything given to us on a silver platter, but that's not exactly true; I've worked hard to earn my status at this school as the biggest douche bag. That's right, I said it. What? Do you think it's easy to be top of the class at a five A school and play varsity sports every season? If so, why haven't you done it?

Silence. See?

Dylan is beside me. He's my go to guy. Anything I need, he's there. He's 5'11", has a cleft in his chin, and dark wavy hair. Tyrone is African American, 6'5", and the best line backer you could ask for, next to me. Then there's Mike. He's not the brightest match in the box, but he's definitely the funniest. We make fun of him for having the Justin Bieber hair, but he's a chick magnet because of it.

So, I have about five girls texting me daily, and I try to squeeze in my replies when I have time.

What? I never claimed I was Prince Charming, but I don't lie to any of them, and it's not like I'm married. Heck, I don't have a girlfriend, and I'm seventeen years old. I'm an eligible bachelor. I'm like top sirloin in a world full of burgers. If this guy is ever going to settle down with one woman, she had better be low maintenance, not too clingy, be able to hold an intelligent conversation, and be so damned sexy she'll give every guy within a ten-foot radius an erection, including 90 year old grandpas in wheelchairs. Otherwise she isn't worth it. Besides, after I've done my fair share of sewing my wild oats, and I'm forty-five, I'll find some twenty-year-old that wants to have a family and take care of me in my old age.

I haven't met a girl yet who could measure up to my expectations. Sure, I've had girls throw themselves at me. Hey, if she's giving out free tacos who am I to say no? Every girl wants a ride on Jayden Whitmore, like the most popular ride at any amusement park. I'm not going to take that thrill from them.

Don't get me wrong, I love women. I have the deepest respect for my mom, and the female population in general. When a girl says no, it means no. I'll never be the reason a girl tweets #metoo, but usually the girl's I hook up with have their friends texting my number: pound me too.

Don't worry, I'm smart. I pick up a three pack of condoms at the corner convenience store when I run out. The dude there knows me. His name is Rodrigo. He envies me. I'm not going to wind up as some trapped baby's daddy so that some girl can own me and my paycheck for the next 18 years of my life. There is no gravy train here!

Yep, my bud Tyrone knows all about that. He got his girlfriend knocked up in 11th grade. Now he has a six-month-old, but his parents are determined he and his girl will finish high school. Between the grandmas they babysit when they can during school hours, and when they can't, sometimes Tyrone and Iesha bring the baby with them to the classrooms.

You don't think teachers let you bring your baby to school? Well you're wrong about that. They do. Especially when your parents contribute a sizable check to school fundraisers, and the girl's mother is the superintendant.

"Jayden," my friend Dylan said, as we stood around in the Commons before the bell rang, "Did you hear me?"

I had been so consumed with my phone I hadn't been paying attention. "Sorry dude. What?" I said, feeling like I just walked out of the bathroom with my pants down.

"You know that favor you owe me?" He gave me a stern expression, yet still had a smirk on his face.

I thought for a moment. "What favor?"

"You know. Last week when you shit your pants... I took the fall for that, man." He rested one hand on his hip and looked at me in all seriousness.

"Dude," I put my palms up. "I thought it was a fart. It could happen to anyone."

My friends, Tyrone and Mike, started laughing. I looked around to see if anyone had heard, and it didn't look like they had. "Keep it down," I whispered.

"Dude, if anybody can make shitting their pants look cool, it's you," Mike said with a sincere expression.

"That's reassuring." I nodded, patting his back sarcastically. "Thanks."

"Don't worry. I got your back," Dylan rested his hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes. "Just remember, when you wore those white football pants and you had a brown stain in the back, who walked behind you to the locker room? Me! Who lent you their pants? Me!"

Tyrone and Mike arched their eyebrows at this and shook their heads, making little grunts.

"Yeah, that's a true friend right there," Mike agreed.

"Yep, yep," Tyrone patted my back.

"Alright, alright," I said, a little hesitant at making an agreement. I put my fingers together in the shape of a steeple. "What do you want me to do?"

Dylan raised his chin. "You know my little sister?"

I had grown up with Dylan and his family, and his little sister was not so little. A junior to be specific. She was by far, the cutest, sweetest piece of ass at school. The only reason we all steered clear of her was because Dylan was a very over protective big brother. That's one of the reason's she still held the V card. She was prude, but still, any girl will give it up if you put enough time and energy into them. Some of them are harder eggs to crack than others. You show a girl a little respect, open doors, hold their hand, call them sweet little nick names, and before you know it they're crawling into your lap. That's why Dylan had to play the role of her warden. Not that he needed to be careful of me, Mike, or Tyrone. We were peeps. No girl could come between us. We had an undeniable bond.

"Of course I know Abby," I said.

"You know she's a virgin, right?"

"Yep," I confirmed.

"You know I want her to stay a virgin, right?" He gave me what I call the stank eye; a forewarning to use caution.

"Yep." I nodded, popping the p.

"Good." He crossed his arms over his chest. "I want you to take her to homecoming."

Skiiiirt.

"What?" I chuckled. The one-night we try to pick up the easiest girl we can, take her out to dinner, make our appearance at the dance, and then check into a hotel, and he wants me to scratch those plans to babysit his little sister?

"Well, if I don't have someone I can trust taking her to homecoming, some douche is going to try something with her. You're my insurance." He winked at me with a smirk.

I pulled my collar as it started to feel like it was getting tighter around my neck. "Dude, one of those band geeks will go with her." I nod my head toward a guy carrying a tuba. "They'd be glad to just stand near her."

Dylan gave me the look, the one that screams, 'are you for real?' "Jayden," he scolded, "Have you seen my little sister?"

I chuckled and nodded, wondering what he was getting at.

"She's not going to say yes," he poked me in the chest with his index finger, "to some pimply," poke, "band geek," poke, poke, "mother fucker. She wants to go with someone who has a lot more... congeniality."

I sighed, knowing he was right. Dylan and his family had been there for me through everything. They took me boating every summer before football camp. His dad was like a second father to me while my dad was always working. With Dylan's sister, I would be on good behavior, and he knew it. Bros before Hos. She would be like a princess, and I would be in fear of castration should I lay a finger on her. "Alright. I'll ask her."

"Thanks, dude." He smiled, straightening the collar around my shirt. "I knew I could count on you." He punched me in the shoulder, and I punched him back.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

https://youtu.be/2xwUuSM06xQ

Hey People of the world, I'm trying out a new story. It's going to have short chapters and hopefully be a quick read. I came up with it just this afternoon, and I just had to post it and see what you thought.

Comment.

Vote!

Giving you my love,

〰Sky❤

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖