The Jigsaw Puzzle
by Pink Panther
Chapter 22
April 2009
The spring term is almost over. Tomorrow we finish for the Easter break. After everything that's happened. I'm looking forward to it. All being well, Patrick and I should be able to get together at least a couple of times.
The last two weeks have been difficult. When we're with our registration group, Dean and I have been frozen out almost completely. Louise and Smudger are the only ones who'll talk to us. Even Matthew has been keeping his distance.
Dean's been brooding. Although Rebecca says she'll tell him when she's ready to go out with him again, for the moment he's in limbo. And there's nothing I can do; nothing I can say. It doesn't help that Amanda's been prowling around like the cat that swallowed the cream. I'm sure I was right about her starting the rumour.
I've had no sex, of course. It's been purgatory! I've coped by throwing myself into my schoolwork even more than I usually do, but in the quiet times when I'm trying to relax, I get so horny I don't know where to put myself.
That's when the fantasies start. Sometimes they involve Simon Heath or Tim Powell, even though I know I've no chance of doing anything with either of them. But most of them are about the boy I saw in his gym kit back when I was in Year Eight. His name's Adam Barr. He's mates with Jayden, and right now he's even hotter than he was then. I can't stop thinking about him.
I guess I could have tried to find someone else to have sex with, but I haven't. For one thing, I haven't had time. But more than that, after Dad told me I was too young to be having sex, I decided the one thing I wouldn't do was to go out looking for it. I'd like to stick to that if I can.
I'm in Claire's room. I don't know why, I just am. Mystery Boy Adam Barr is here too. I'm naked. He's dressed in his gym shorts. I bend over the chair. He moves round behind me. He's just about to fuck me when I wake up, my body wracked with muscle spasms, spunk spewing out of my cock.
My shorts are soaked. I throw back the duvet and pull them off. Deciding I may as well spend the rest of the night naked, I crawl back under the covers, my head totally scrambled. I've had wet dreams before, of course, like last summer when we were in St Ives, but nothing as powerful as this one, or as weird, like we should have been in my room, so what were we doing in Claire's?
It's Easter Sunday. Dean, Patrick and I are up in my bedroom, towelling off after our morning run.
"Just going to the loo," Dean announces.
He trots off to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
"Any chance we could get together sometime this week?" Patrick whispers.
"Should be," I say, grinning at him. "Let me see what I can sort out."
It's Tuesday morning when the three of us are together again. I wait for my opportunity. Once again Dean goes to the bathroom, putting him safely out of earshot.
"I've got the house to myself tomorrow if you want to come over," I say quietly.
"Nice one!" Patrick responds, smiling. "Ten o'clock alright?"
"Yeah," I tell him. "I'll be ready."
It's two minutes to ten when the front doorbell rings. Patrick's standing there.
"Want a drink?" I ask, ushering him inside.
"Yeah, thanks!" Patrick answers.
We wander through to the kitchen. I pour us cold drinks from the fridge.
"Where's Claire today?" he asks.
"Damian's taking her to Warwick," I say. "They'll be out all day."
"Cool!" he says, grinning. "So how did Rebecca find out about you and Dean?"
"Not sure," I say guardedly.
"I hope you don't think it was anything to do with me," he says, looking me right in the eye. "I haven't said a word."
"Nah," I respond. "You're safe. We think it might have been Amanda Lees. One of her mates saw us a few times when we were going back to Dean's place. She wouldn't have talked to Rebecca. We think she must have started a rumour."
"Sounds about right," he says. "She's a right cow. So you and Dean aren't . . ."
"No, we've had to knock it on the head. Dean's still hoping he can get back with Rebecca. We apologised a couple of weeks ago, both of us, but for the moment we're still out in the cold. I guess we'll just have to give it time."
We finish our drinks.
"You ready?" I ask.
He nods. We make our way to my room. The curtains are already drawn. We strip down to our underwear. We're both as hard as stone. I sit on the bed, reaching up to pull down Patrick's briefs. His cock's already at full mast. It's a real beauty. We swap places. Moments later, my boxers are round my ankles.
I kick them off. We snuggle up on the bed, kissing passionately, our hands roaming everywhere. After several minutes, we take turns sucking each other, taking care not to overdo it. We go back to kissing.
"D'you want me to bum you?" he whispers, his finger running down my crack.
"I thought you wanted me to fuck you this time," I query.
"Whatever you want," he says, grinning.
It's a no-brainer. I take the tube of KY from under the pillow, squeezing some onto my fingers. I carefully coat his dick.
"I'll show you how I like it," I say.
I roll onto my back, pulling my knees up close to my shoulders. Patrick crawls into position. Within a couple of seconds he's inside me.
"Come here," I say, smiling up at him.
He lowers himself between my legs. I reach upwards, drawing his lips to mine.
Mmmmm! That was wonderful! Patrick's several inches taller than me, but I guess most of that's in his legs. We fitted together beautifully. He gently pulls out. We are seriously sticky.
"That was awesome!" he breathes, flopping down next to me. "D'you always cum when you get bummed?"
"I do when we do it like that," I admit, grinning.
I grab my boxers, using them to clean myself off. I pass them to Patrick, who does the same.
"Leave them on the floor," I tell him. "I'll put them in the wash."
He drops them on the carpet. We snuggle up. I bask in the aroma of hot, sexy boy and the warmth of his firm body pressed against mine. It's perfect. I could stay here forever.
Eventually I check my watch. It's five to twelve. The last couple of hours have simply disappeared.
"I'd better be going," Patrick says, stretching.
"Stay for lunch after we run on Friday," I suggest. "I can't promise, but we may be able to do something."
"Okay," he says, smiling. "It's worth a try."
It's Friday, just before twelve. We've completed our run and Dean's on his way home. Patrick and I wander downstairs. I start pottering about, tidying the kitchen. I'll get lunch ready soon, but there's no rush.
"What is it we're waiting for?" Patrick asks, his hormones clearly getting the better of him.
"I'm not sure," I say guardedly, "but I think Damian might be taking Claire out somewhere this afternoon, she didn't exactly say. If he is, she'll be back soon to get changed."
"Oh, I see!" he says, grinning. "And when she goes out again . . ."
"You got it, "I say, smiling back.
I've just started making lunch when Claire appears.
"What are you making?" she enquires.
"Only cheese on toast," I say.
"Could you do some for me?" she asks, smiling sweetly. "Damian's picking me up at half past one."
"Yeah, no problem!" I tell her.
Damian arrives two minutes early. By one-thirty he and Claire are on their way. Patrick and I have the house to ourselves.
"Worked like a charm," I say, smirking. "I thought it might."
"Come on," Patrick says, grinning. "Let's do it."
Oh, we're going to do it alright. We make our way upstairs. A couple of minutes later we're snuggled up on my bed.
"So what d'you want to do today?" I ask, running my fingers over his cock.
"Whatever you want," he breathes.
"You know what I want."
"Cool! But can we do it like we did out in the woods?"
I get off the bed, placing a pillow on the bedside cabinet. I bend down over it, my feet apart.
"Come on, then!" I urge.
Patrick gently withdraws. My dick's throbbing like you wouldn't believe. I begged him to play with it, but he wouldn't. I'm sure I know why. I stand up and turn around. He's kneeling in front of me, sticking his tongue out. I give him what wants. He swallows every drop. After several seconds, he lets me go, licking his lips.
"That's way too good to waste," he says, grinning.
Over the course of the holiday, Patrick and I had sex four times. So much for Dad's instruction not to! Maybe I ought to feel guilty, but somehow I don't. In between times, I've had my head down, working and drawing. I've got to do my GCSE maths exam in a few weeks. After a great deal of work, I finally seem to be getting on top of it, but I can't slacken off. It's like Mr Bentley says, the more past exam questions we've done, the better prepared we'll be when we have to face the real thing.
And now we're back at school, so Patrick and I won't be able to have sex again for five whole weeks. I guess I could try coming on to Mr Saunders again, but it didn't work the last time, even though I offered it to him on a plate, so why would it work now? Anyway, since he bounced me into running that relay race, he's not really been my favourite person. I think I can forget that idea.
I could try going to the park by the Art Gallery, where the public toilets are. It'd have to be Saturday afternoons; it's the only time I've got, but to be honest, I don't fancy it. Bad memories, I guess. Beyond that, I'm out of ideas.
I stroll into Mrs Vickers' room for morning registration. I sit in my usual place. There are still a few minutes until the bell goes. Dean's not here yet. Living just across the road, he usually arrives at the last minute. Louise parks herself next to me.
"Rebecca's being really weird," she whispers. "You and Dean apologised a month ago. She's really missing Dean, but she's still making him wait. She doesn't want him to get off too lightly. And she's really got her knife into you. She's got this idea that it was your fault, even though Dean told her it wasn't. I mean bizarre or what? So how's your holiday been?"
"Okay," I say guardedly. "I keep getting the hots for one of Jayden's mates."
"Really? Who?"
"Adam Barr."
"Oh, he's gorgeous," she says dreamily. "But you've got no chance there. I might have, but you definitely wouldn't."
"Thanks!" I say, grinning.
It's time for our games class. As it's the summer term, that means cricket and athletics. I'm expecting that Patrick and I will do more or less what I did last year, a run of four or five miles followed by a speed session on the track. As we finish getting changed, Mr Saunders calls us across.
"You two can start by doing a steady run," he says, "but only a couple of miles, and take it easy. You've got a tough track session to do afterwards, so don't overdo it. Tim will be coming with you."
The track session isn't just tough, it's brutal. Dean's training for the four hundred metre hurdles, and none of the also-rans who trained with us last year are doing it, so it's just Tim, Patrick and me. I spend twenty minutes trying to make my legs go faster than they want to. Then, after a fifteen-minute break, I have to spend another ten minutes of trying to make them go even faster. I get slaughtered. By the time it's over, I'm in bits. At long last we head back to the changing room. I'm just getting into my school uniform when Mr Saunders comes over, clipboard in hand.
"We've got our first athletics match next week," he says. "I need you and Patrick for the fifteen hundred."
I'm seriously alarmed.
"Aren't years ten and eleven competing together, sir?" I protest.
"Yes," he confirms. "Patrick will be running with Adam Barr. I want you to run as a guest."
What did he just say? Adam Barr, my wet-dream fantasy boy, is going to be running with us. Holy shit!
"So isn't Tim doing it, sir?" I ask, looking desperately for a way out.
"Tim will be running the eight hundred," he tells me. "I also need him for the long jump. I can't ask him to run the fifteen hundred as well. I don't want him getting injured. In any case, you need the experience. The only way to learn how to run in races is to run in races."
I am not happy! They don't need me for the team, but they're still making me run, 'for the experience'. Crap! I'm going to get totally shown up. Worse still, we've got to run alongside Adam. He has to know I'm gay. I hope he doesn't find out I've got the hots for him. Oh, fuck! This could be seriously embarrassing.
It's Wednesday. After school, we head to the changing room.
"Mr Saunders wants me to train on the track," Dean says. "I'll see you after, yeah?"
"Yeah, okay," I respond casually.
Patrick and I set out on our run. I don't know why, but I definitely miss having Dean with us. Our run completed, we're just towelling off when Dean appears.
"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow," Patrick says, quickly pulling on his school uniform.
He disappears through the door.
"I've joined the athletics club," Dean tells me, "just for the summer."
"I thought you said they weren't much good," I query.
"Oh, they're not very good at cross-country," he says, "but their young athletes' track and field team's okay. We don't do the four-hundred hurdles in school matches. It's the only way I'll get any experience of running it."
"So won't you be training with us anymore?" I ask.
"I'll be running with you on Fridays," he says. "I still need to do some aerobic work, but the rest of the time Mr Saunders has got a programme worked out for me. He says I could be pretty good if I stick at it. Sundays I'll either be racing or I'll train at the club." He pauses. "Don't worry," he adds, smiling. "Next term I'll be back running with you full-time."
He's spelt it out in big letters. We can still be friends, but we'll never be as close as we were. I know I'm being selfish, but it hurts. It shouldn't, but it does.
May 2009
It's the second Friday of term. School's finished for the day, but instead of going for a run, we're at the athletics match. There are four schools competing: ourselves and the Cathedral School, a school from Hereford and one from Cheltenham. Years Ten and Eleven compete together as do Years Eight and Nine, plus there are a few events for Year Seven. Winning is the object, of course, but the absolute priority is to beat the Cathedral School, or so everyone says.
I'm bored. Apart from the races that my friends are in, I'm just not interested. Worse still, the fifteen hundred metres is the last race before the relays, so I'm going to be stuck here for almost two hours. At least the weather's okay for sitting out on the field.
Eventually, it's time for us to warm up. Patrick and I warm up together, jogging and stretching. After changing into our spikes we do a few strides. Ready to go, we trot across to the start. Adam's already there. I swallow hard. In his running kit, he is stunning. I have to stop myself staring at him.
We line up, the gun sounds and we're away. I'm off the pace right from the start. But although Patrick and Adam are way in front of me, to my surprise I finish sixth out of the nine runners, which is better than I thought I'd do. As soon as I've got my breathing under control, I make my way back to the start. Adam's pulling on his training top.
"Who won?" I ask.
"Him," he answers sulkily, jerking his head towards one of the Hereford boys. "I'd have had a good chance if your mate here hadn't made it so bloody quick!"
"That, Adam, is your problem," Mr Saunders says, coming up behind him. "If you put as much effort into your training as Patrick does, it wouldn't be an issue. But the good news is that the boys from the Cathedral School finished in the last two places, so well done, all of you."
Adam looks at him, his eyes filled with resentment. That's when it hits me. In his case, beauty really is skin deep. He might be the hottest kid on the planet, but he's petulant and selfish, and thinks way too much of himself. I wouldn't go with him even if he asked me.
"What times did we run, sir?" Patrick asks.
"The winner ran four thirty-four, Adam four thirty-five. You ran four thirty seven and Ian four fifty- six."
That's fifteen seconds quicker than I ran at sports day last year. Not bad, I guess.
"You'll all run a great deal faster before the end of term," Mr Saunders adds.
After a gentle jog, it's time to go home. I'm not going to wait around for the match result. I stroll to the bus stop and sit down to wait. It wasn't too bad. I ran better than I'd expected. But I still can't raise much enthusiasm for it.
I wander into the kitchen where Mum's cooking dinner.
"The Marshalls have invited us to their barbecue party," she says, looking right at me. "It's the first Saturday of the half term break. They want us all to go, so make sure you don't go arranging anything else."
"No worries, I'll be there," I assure her. "So why the invite?"
"Well, Damian and Claire have been going out for a while, as you know," Mum says. "I think they want to get to know us."
"That's cool," I say nonchalantly. "I know Roz pretty well anyway. She's in a couple of my classes. She's really nice."
Mum gives me a pained expression. She doesn't have to say, "I'd hoped that one day you'd find yourself a girlfriend like that." It's written all over her face.
As it goes, over the past few weeks Roz and I have become like best friends. The school gives two art scholarships each year. Well, in our year, I got one and Roz got the other. Anyway, she talks to me all the time, mainly about art, pop music and boys. She's worried that Ed's too keen on getting into her knickers. I guess she knows I'm not going to do that.
It's Sunday morning. The doorbell rings. I go to answer it.
"You shot off pretty quick on Friday," Patrick says, stepping inside.
"Yeah," I respond. "I just wanted to get home."
"Well, we won anyway," he goes on. "The Cathedral School were last. Saunders and Lenny were well happy."
"Cool," I say casually.
The fact is that I don't care whether we won or not. I did what I was asked to do. I don't want to get any more involved than that.
A few weeks on, I head into the physics lab. A few seconds later, Dean takes his place next to me.
"Rebecca's asked me if I'd like to go out with her again," he says quietly, taking his books out.
"And what did you say?" I ask.
"I said 'yes', of course!" he replies, grinning.
So he's back on the inside. I'm pleased for him; he's been very patient. I wonder how long it'll be until I'm welcomed back.
We're driving to the Marshalls' barbecue party. The weather's just about perfect; warm and sunny with only a light breeze. I'm looking forward to it. Ed doesn't mind me being friends with Roz because he knows it's not sexual. He'll be there, of course, as will Joanne, who's been best mates with Roz, like, forever.
The Marshalls live in a double-fronted detached house on the edge of the city. I'd guess it's around a hundred years old, and absolutely full of character. I love it. We stroll into the back garden, which is huge, with several mature trees and a large, well-kept lawn. People are standing around, or sitting on garden chairs, eating scones and drinking tea. It reminds me of one of those television dramas set in the 1950s.
The party is an annual event. Most of the families attending have been coming here for years. We're first-timers, but Mum and Dad seem to fit right in, no problem. Dad's brilliant at that. He can talk to anybody. I spend most of my time with Roz and her friends: Ed, Joanne and couple of girls that I don't really know. We have a great laugh.
Before the actual barbecue there are games of croquet on the lawn. Ed and I play against Roz and Joanne. The girls have played before. We haven't. It's hilarious! I'm laughing so much I can hardly hit the ball. The girls beat us easily.
The barbecue itself is amazing. We always eat well at home, but this is something special, not just the meat, but all different salads and vegetables, not to mention the yummy desserts to follow. I've no idea how they found the time to prepare everything. When we finish eating, the girls promptly disappear.
"What's got into them?" I ask.
"They've gone to powder their noses," Ed tells me. "It's a girl thing. What it really means is that they'll be having a gossip where we can't hear them. It always happens."
"So how are you and Roz getting on?" I ask.
"Oh, we're cool," he says guardedly.
Reading between the lines, what he actually means is that he's been trying to persuade Roz to have sex with him, but isn't making much headway. There's an awkward pause.
"You're gay, right?" he asks, suddenly changing the subject.
"Yeah."
"So what d'you like doing?"
Wow! I hadn't expected that. I glance across. There's a hard bulge that his cargo shorts aren't hiding too well. I know exactly what this is about. He's not getting much joy from Roz, so he wants me to help him get his rocks off. Well he can forget it.
This is nothing like it was when Dean and I sort of came on to each other. We were well on our way to becoming really good friends. Ed's not much more than a casual acquaintance, a friend of a friend.
"Oh, I think that's between me and whoever it is I happen to be with," I say guardedly. "I don't do kiss and tell. I wouldn't dream of asking what you and Roz get up to."
"Fuck all," he says, giving me a wry grin. "If she's in a really good mood, I might get a decent grope. That's as far as I've got. I was wondering if you'd like to . . . you know, help me out a bit."
"You mean here?"
"We can go behind the shed at the bottom of the garden," he whispers. "Nobody'll see us. You can suck me off if you want."
This is lunacy! I've been down that road once. I'm not about to go there again.
"That's a really bad idea," I tell him. "What happens if the girls come back before we've finished?"
"It's not your problem, is it?" he shoots back.
"Well actually it is," I say firmly. "Roz is a friend. It'd be embarrassing. Anyway, you're straight, yeah? You're not going to do anything for me, are you?"
"You were doing stuff with Dean," he argues, looking me right in the eye, "and he's straight."
"And I assume you know where it got us!" I snap back. "D'you think I deliberately go around fucking things up for people?"
"Sorry," he mumbles. "I was out of order."
We lapse into silence. Within a couple of minutes, the girls are back. It's just as well we didn't do as Ed suggested. We'd have been right in the middle of it.
"Was that Roz you were playing croquet with?" Mum asks. "You seemed to be getting on very well."
"Yeah," I answer, trying to sound nonchalant. "She's Ed's girlfriend. That's how he got invited."
"Oh, I see," Mum counters. "What about the other girl, the very pretty one?"
"She's going out with Tim," I explain. "You remember Tim? He came out running with us once."
"What about those other two girls?" Mum persists.
"Oh, they're just Roz's friends," I say, trying to hide my irritation. "I don't really know them."
"Maybe you should try," she suggests.
I give her my best 'Don't even go there' look, but keep my mouth firmly shut. Saying anything would only cause an argument. That's the last thing I need. It's frustrating though. I've told her I'm gay. Dr Aitken told her I'm gay. Why can't she just get over it?
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