The Tease - Part 1

All characters are consenting adults (18+)

This is a commission for somebody on the Legendary Tier. Names and themes are chosen by the requester.

Part 1 of 2 (P2 will be posted tomorrow). 

Have you ever woken up and felt incredibly good about the day ahead of you? I’m talking, you get out of bed and the sun is shining through your bedroom window. You go downstairs and your mom has cooked your favourite breakfast. Your dad drops you off to school, and the hottest girl there greets you with a kiss. You score the winning goal for your soccer team, and every kid in school talks about you like you’re some kind of celebrity? Well, welcome to my life every single day.

I truly think that some people are just born luckier than others. I’m not a big headed guy, but I never had to try particularly hard to be the way I am, it just kinda’ happened.

My old man was a star wrestler back in his high school days, and had I put my mind to it, I was quite sure that I could have gone down the same path, but soccer was where my heart lay, and just like my dad, I was the star of the school.

People loved me for it, but I guess it helped that I was six foot two and pretty damn hot if I do say so myself. I’d been dating Sandy Layland for over a year, which was proof in itself that I was one of the most handsome guys in school.

And, speaking of school, Northwood High was like my own personal playground. Being incredibly gifted at the one sport that even the teachers loved, had many perks. Before me, our team hadn’t won a state championship in over a decade. Now? We were winning them every single year, and that meant one thing for me. Freedom.

I could do what I wanted. I could say what I wanted. I could go where I wanted, when I wanted, and no teacher alive dared to scold me for it. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t some hot headed psycho, they just didn’t want to be the one to punish the only guy who had put their school on a map since my old man.

So yeah, every day of my life was like that one really good day for most people, and I’d gotten very used to that sweet fact until Dylan showed up and pulled my world down around me.

I didn’t even notice him that first day in English class. He sat somewhere down the back, and I was admittedly too busy texting Sandy to realise that a new kid had arrived. It was only when Mr. McKenna stood at the front of the classroom with our test results, that I first heard the voice that would haunt me.

“Some of you need to pick up the pace” the English teacher said, holding the stack of papers and looking around at us, “but of course, Adrian you did a fantastic job capturing the true essence of Pride and Prejudice, so that’s an A for you, young man”.

He handed me my result and I smiled at the red A on the page. It wasn’t unusual to see, and so I sat back, took my phone back out and stopped when he spoke.

“Excuse me, sir”.

The strong, yet not unpleasant accent caused every head to turn, including mine. It wasn’t a local accent, and certainly wasn’t one that had been here the week prior, and the young man who it came from, was unlike anybody I’d seen in Northwood High before.

He sat in his chair like he was on vacation. One muscular arm hung loosely over the back, his dangling fingers feeding a pen between each knuckle. His golden hair sat wavy on his head, and even from across the room, his blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. Mr. McKenna stopped in his tracks and turned back to him.

“I’d be interested to hear that student’s take on the novel” he said, nodding in my direction, but not looking at me “it’s a favourite of mine, and I always like other perspectives”.

Instantly, the English teacher fell in love. I clenched my jaw as I watched him gawp at the new student like a dewy eyed school girl. He scrambled back toward me, yanked the paper off my desk and cleared his throat.

“Adrian describes the central theme of the story as being focused on romantic ideals versus reality” he said, his voice almost shaking with excitement, “Adrian rightly points out that the characters are constantly struggling with the stark contrasts of what they expected love to be like, and what it’s actually like”.

When Mr. McKenna returned my sheet to my desk, I felt a smug smile on my face. And then the young man spoke again, and the smile disappeared.

“That’s a common view” he said, though he didn’t say it as sharply as I would have. “It’s not incorrect, of course” he continued, “but the true meaning of the story is a lot deeper than that. In reality, Pride and Prejudice captures the essence of societal norms, class distinctions, and the complexities of human relationships, particularly within the context of marriage and love. At its core, the novel explores themes of pride, prejudice, social status, and the importance of self-awareness and personal growth”.

Everybody turned back to him, eyes wide and mouths open. He hadn’t even been here to read the book with us, and now he was vomiting out his own dumb little opinion on it? I waited for Mr. McKenna to correct him, but the man looked as though he’d been struck by lightning. He stood silent for a moment, before swallowing and nodding intently.

“Excellent” he said, “excellent work…”

“Dylan” the guy replied.

“Fantastic, Dylan. That’s an A+ answer, right there”.

The blip in English class left a sour taste in my mouth, but it wasn’t the end of the world. The kid had been lucky that we just so happened to read his favourite novel, and he just so happened to be there on results day. As bitter as I felt, I let it slide. There was no need to get jealous over some nerd, anyway.

The rest of the day was as normal as every other day, and when lunch time finally came around, I stood with Sandy in the canteen. I considered venting about the new guy, but doing so would only prove that he was on my mind, so we spoke about nothing in particular until the bell sounded.

“I better get to class” I said, kissing her, and then I turned and made an epic shot with my sandwich wrapper, and watched as it flew directly toward the trash can on the opposite side of the room. The surrounding students watched, and we all held our collective breath as we prepared to erupt into cheer, until I hit the rim and missed.

“Damn” I spat, until he arrived next to me.

“You gotta put more spin on it” he grinned, and made the same shot, only his one went in.

The students roared in celebration. A juvenile display that made my lip twitch. Even Sandy cheered, and so I turned on my heel and left her with the rest of them.

The kid was beginning to get on my nerves. I mean, who did he think he was? New students usually kept their heads down and their mouth shut until they found whatever group they fit into. Dylan had come in like he was… Like he was me. He was all I could think about for the rest of the day, until finally it was time for the one thing that only I was the king of.

“If we win next week, that puts us two points from the top of the league” David Barnett, our goalkeeper said as the last of us pushed inside the changing rooms.

“Not if, Dave” I chuckled, “when”.

The word lodged in my throat as the path of soccer players cleared, and in the middle, Dylan stood, already halfway through changing. His muscular body was more on the lean side, but still stiff and solid. He wore nothing but a pair of grey Calvin Kleins, and they left little to the imagination.

“Who’s that?” David asked, and I wanted to scream.

“A new kid”.

“Hopefully he’s good”.

“He won’t be” I said bitterly.

And to no surprise, he proved me brutally wrong.

Dylan was one of the best soccer players I had ever seen in my life. Every position Coach tried him in, he excelled. In goals, Dylan showed David a better stance on the line, and David went on to save almost every shot. In defence, Dylan blocked every single ball coming his way, including mine. Up front, where I ran the field, Dylan thundered by me and scored with every kick, and in the final game, where our team was split into two smaller teams and Dylan and I finally had a chance to go head to head, the result infuriated me.

“Better luck next time, bro” he said, patting me on the back as we returned to the changing rooms.

I hated him. I hated him with every tiny fibre of my being. I hated that he was better in English. I hated that he was better at throwing his damn sandwich wrappers. I hated his stupid, wavy, golden hair. I hated his dumb gleaming smile, but most of all, I hated that Dylan had just embarrassed me at my favourite thing in the world.

Nobody waited around in the changing room. Most of the students were eager to get home, but Dylan had been having a deep conversation with some of the players, who hung on every word he said, and I’d been too busy despising him, so eventually the two of us stood across the room from each other in our underwear.

“Where are you from?” I asked, because the silence was making me want to punch him even more.

He looked over as though he hadn’t even noticed my existence.

“Texas” he said, “my old man’s Italian, though”.

Of course he is.

“Why are you here, then?” I asked, a little sharper than I had intended.

“He took a job over this way”.

“So you like English?”

“Not particularly”.

I cocked a brow.

“I mean, it’s not my best subject, but I don’t hate it, either”.

If English wasn’t his best subject, then what was? God, he was such an asshole.

“Centre forward is my position, by the way” I added.

“Is it?”

“Yes”.

“Interesting”.

“What’s interesting?”

He shrugged his firm shoulders, and adjusted his crotch. My eyes darted down, then back up.

“It’s just, I always play centre forward. It’s kinda my jam”.

I clenched my fists. This guy had to be fucking with me.

“Look, I don’t know what this is all about” I growled, and walked over to him until we stood inches apart. He had some height on me, but I didn’t care. “This is my playground, man, and you’re already stepping on toes”.

He studied me for a moment, before taking one step and placing both of his feet over mine. My eyes widened.

“I have a habit of steeping on toes, kid” he winked, and slapped me gently across the cheek. “Now be a good boy and go get dressed before you embarrass yourself”.

I couldn’t speak. Dylan turned back around, and when he did, the warm aroma of sweat and deodorant washed over me. I inhaled it accidentally, and felt a rush of butterflies in my stomach, but they were instantly drowned out by the rage inside me.

Rather than beat his ass right there, I decided that my place on the team was more important, and hurriedly dressed and left. If Dylan wanted to play, then we were about to fucking play.