“Hello?” complained someone who had watched way too many valley girl movies before pushing past him. “I swear!”

That left one desk for Ben. He took his seat, still looking around for any hint of silver eyes and dark hair. Nothing. Nada.

Ah, well. At least he still had the chocolate to enjoy. The teacher of this class, Ms. Hughes, was the same he had last year. She was one of those rare teachers who were considered cool by her students. Some teachers tried too hard by putting up posters of the latest music bands and ineptly interjecting slang into their lectures. Ms. Hughes wasn’t like that. She was just herself--a middle-aged spinster who had a passion for science and managed to transfer her enthusiasm to those she was teaching, usually through innovative and fun experiments. The topic of the day was pheromones, which had most of the class laughing, but not Ben, whose thoughts were on the scent of sweat on the evening air as Tim ran to him.

__________

Chapter 3

After suffering a week of plastic green seats and hyperactive freshmen, Ben decided to give up on the bus. The mechanics were holding Allison’s car hostage for another ten days while parts were ordered, and Ben couldn’t take the humiliation of being the only junior travelling by bus anymore. He was locking his bike up when Allison came running over from where her father had dropped her off.

“I found him!” she declared.

“Who?” Ben said as casually as possible, knowing damn well who she meant.

“Johnny Depp,” Allison retorted. “Who do you think I mean? I tried calling you last night but it just rang and rang.”

Ben made a mental note to verbally abuse his sister for ignoring call waiting. “So where is he?”

“Tied up in my basement and waiting for you,” Allison said, licking her lips indecently. “You wish. I just saw him in passing after sixth period yesterday, so at least we know that he goes to this school.”

Allison spotting Tim must have broken the curse, because Ben saw him that very day. To be fair, the renewed hope inspired Ben to take long detours down different hallways, but the strategy paid off. On the way to lunch he saw Tim leaning against a wall, talking to two other students.

Unfortunately they were two of the biggest assholes in school. Bryce Hunter was a huge jock who had been the size of an ox for as long as Ben could remember. He’d always looked like he was twenty-five, even in junior high. Next to him was Darryl Briscott, who was short and bordering on fat, but came from a very rich family, and that guaranteed his popularity.

Ben eyed them warily for a moment before turning his attention back to Tim, whose Adam’s apple bobbed in amusement at something Bryce was saying. There had been days when Ben questioned his recent obsession, dismissing it as temporary insanity induced by raging hormones. Crazy or not, seeing Tim again rekindled those stalker’s flames. He was everything, absolutely everything, that Ben looked for in a guy. From the outside at least. His choice of company cast doubt on everything else.

“Timmy!” squealed a voice that would test even the patience of pigs. Krista Norman bounded directly in front of Ben on her way to ‘Timmy.’ Despite her unfortunate voice, she was one of the most popular girls and drop-dead gorgeous. She ran over and took Tim’s hand in her petite little paws, and beamed up at him. Tim returned the million dollar smile, much to Ben’s disgust.

“Hey, faggot!” These charming words were spoken by none other than Bryce Hunter himself, who had noticed Ben standing there and staring.

Any chance of resisting the oncoming blush was ruined when Krista added, “He really is, you know.”

Ben risked a glare at Bryce and a sarcastic little wave to Krista as he walked away. Figuring there was nothing more to lose, he glanced at Tim one last time as he went. Tim appeared amused, returning Ben’s funny little wave. The gesture was genuinely cute when he did it, which made Ben twice as angry.

Why couldn’t people’s insides match their outsides? The world would be such a wonderful place if the nicer someone was, the more beautiful they became. Jerks like Bryce and Darryl would be disgusting, pus-covered trolls, and everyone would see them for what they were. Tim, too, if these were the sort of people he chose to hang out with. Instead of the princely appearance, he would be ugly, hunched, and so wretched-looking that Ben never would have noticed him. Or if Ben had, he would have at least known right away that Tim wasn’t worth all the emotions and fantasies that he had wasted on him.

* * * * *

Ben was having one of those days, a parade of unpleasant events that began in the morning. He was stuffing his backpack into his locker before heading to the gym when something wet splatted onto his neck. Ben turned around to find a spit wad almost as big as his fist lying on the ground. The hallways were still full of kids, but Bryce’s massive form was easy to pick out of the crowd, a satisfied leer painted across his face.

At least Tim wasn’t with him, which was something of a small miracle. Allison having spotted him had indeed broken the curse. Over the past two weeks Ben had run into Tim at least twice a day. Each time Ben hastily averted his eyes and cursed the flush that came over his face. He hoped his red cheeks were mistaken as angry instead of bashful. After all, he had nothing to be embarrassed about, since Tim was clueless as to Ben’s former crush on him.

The fun-filled day continued in gym class. Leon was having his wisdom teeth removed, which meant at least a week of misery without his company. Worst of all, they were playing baseball, a sport very difficult to go unnoticed in. His first time at bat, Ben cussed loudly after his third strike. This infuriated the coach, the bald one with the twisted nose, who commanded that Ben run the two-mile trail through the woods that nestled against the school. At least this was an escape of sorts. Ben slowed to a walk as soon as he was hidden behind the trees and wondered if he could get away with self-inflicting this “punishment” until Leon came back. He would rather run alone every day than play baseball.

Then there was a substitute teacher in Spanish, which of course meant that the entire class was misbehaving. Ben usually enjoyed that, but one of the boys asked the teacher how to say “faggot” in Spanish. For whatever incomprehensible reason, the substitute decided to answer this question, and “mariposa” was happily parroted throughout the remainder of the class, with a number of pointed looks in Ben’s direction.

Lunch should have brought a welcome break from the day’s hardships, but Ben was greeted with Allison’s announcement that she and Ronnie were now boyfriend and girlfriend. Ben callously responded to this news by saying, “That’s retarded. You haven’t even been on a date yet.”

The look of hurt on Allison’s face made him regret his words. Ben was happy for her. Mostly. Ronnie was a nice guy. Dates, romance, and possibly hot kinky sex were sure to follow in due course. That’s what rubbed Ben the wrong way. This was Allison’s fourth boyfriend since they had been in high school. In the past three years, Ben hadn’t had so much as a mildly flirtatious encounter. The ease in which she found someone stirred the green-eyed monster inside of him.

What could he do, though? He wasn’t old enough to get into a gay bar, and the local newspaper’s personal ads were almost strictly heterosexual, except for a few placed by men older than his father. Even Ben’s meager sex life had been cut off when he came out of the closet, a decision that he was beginning to regret. An unreciprocated blow job at this point sounded as meaningful as marriage.