The Art of Being a F*ck Up - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Hey, it's me again, Brent Fox. Probably not who you were expecting, I know, but fuck it, let's do this shit. A lot's changed in the past four years, I guess that's inevitable, but, surprisingly, so much has stayed the same too. Senior year in college is already starting to feel a lot like senior year in high school, mostly due to the fact that I honestly don't give a fuck about all the homework I'm supposed to be doing. Sure, there's that part of me that's been slacking off now that it seems kind of pointless when I'm about to graduate, but mostly it's like no matter how hard I try to pay attention I always end up with the same shitty grades anyway. It's not all bad though, being a functional idiot comes with its perks.
"You almost got this one right, you just forgot to adjust the values. Are you listening to me? Stop trying to take your clothes off!" Jonah smacks my arm, a short laugh rolling off his tongue as he tries to get me to focus. You remember my boyfriend Jonah, right? No relationship lasts as long as ours without its ups and downs, but we're going on five years now, and sometimes I think I know him better than he does. Then again, that probably means he knows me better than I know myself too, which is kind of a scary thought.
"Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" I finish pulling off my hoodie before taking a second to flex my arms. He likes my huge biceps. Some things never change, but that's not always bad, even after all these years I'd much rather spend my time between his thighs than anywhere else. He might be pretty hot shit when it comes to calculating values for trigonometric functions, but I have a fucking PhD in Jonah Pierson. I love the way he gets flustered when he can't concentrate, I know just what to do to drive him crazy.
"Brent," he breathes my name, soft and light, giving in as he tilts his head to the side so that I'll have easier access to the spot on his neck just below his jaw. It's sensitive and tender, and I kiss it accordingly. He lays one hand on my face, pulling me closer, but with the other he moves to stop my creeping fingers from getting any further up his leg. Through lips half formed into a coy smile he tries to be reasonable, "we don't have a lot of time to get this done."
"Come on, I need to relax a little before the game later," I say, using football as my excuse, "we'll just have to be quick, won't we?"
"Well that's never been a problem for you." Jonah jokes, thinking he's so funny. He makes me laugh though, the way he always does, but I don't get a chance to say anything in my defense before he plants his mouth firmly over mine. I count down the seconds in my head, confident he's not finished, because that's how well I know him. Three, two, one. He pulls back, "you do realize this is why you're on academic probation, right?"
"Probably." A playful grin crosses my face unintentionally, and then I kiss him roughly. Yeah, some things never change alright—if not for Jonah I probably would've flunked out freshman year, but he's been by my side this whole time, keeping me on track the best he can. He says I focus way too much on partying and football, and truth be told he takes up most of my time, but a guy's got to have priorities, right? It probably broke some kind of record when I got put on probation so early in the year, I mean, hell, we're barely into the semester and I'm already in danger of failing, but I'm not too worried.
College is just a lot different than high school, the work is harder and I can't remember the last time I had more than a second alone to think, but I'm definitely having a lot more fun these days. Honestly I don't know how Jonah does it, he's already got so much going on, it's a wonder he managed to make the time to help me these past couple years. Senior year has already proved to be more of challenge, so I tried getting a tutor but that didn't work out. Oh well, I'll look for another one, but I guess he's stuck with me a little bit longer—not that I'm complaining. He gets up to go lock the door, which is probably a good idea in case his roommate shows up.
That's one thing that sucks about living here, privacy is a real big issue.
I'm so glad I got out of my dorm when I did, I swear I would've killed myself if I had to stay there another year. The roommate they assigned me was really fucking weird, and not in a good way either, all he wanted to talk about was geeky shit. I pledged the most badass fraternity on campus as soon as I was able, and it's probably the best choice I made since coming here. Well, second best. Anything to do with the cutest motherfucker in the whole goddamn world takes first place, and before he can even turn around I've already moved off the bed to stand right behind him.
As soon as he sees me I push him up against the wall, pinning both hands above his head. His chest heaves, rising and falling while he alternates between watching my eyes and my lips, waiting to see what I'll do next. Finally I kiss him, gently now, letting him free so I can give my own hands something else to do. His arms rest across my shoulders as I feel my way down, unbuttoning his jeans and helping myself to what's inside. I can feel how his arms tense against me, and the grip he has on the back of my neck tightens when I touch him just the right way.
"You're the horniest person I know," Jonah teases, somehow managing to let a few words slip out between the thousand kisses I place on his lips. Of course he's not exactly in any position to be talking shit, considering the very full grip I've got on him, but I let him have his fun.
"You love it." I murmur, somewhere between breaths. In the meantime I go back to focusing on the spot on his neck, which proves to be a killer combination with the hand I already have in his pants.
"Cocky, huh?" He still figures out how to joke even when I'm making him squirm, but I can tell it's getting harder—the joking and, well, you know. My technique elicits a faint moan, but he obviously doesn't want me to think I have all the power so he shoves me back, wiping his bottom lip with his thumb before grabbing my shirt and tearing it off. The tips of his fingers touch my stomach, tracing the muscles, then move up to my chest. He looks at me with that same coy smile, "we can't keep doing this. I'm starting to think you should just jerk off before coming over here, then maybe we'd actually get some work done."
"Think so? But then what would I need you for?" My revenge is sweet when I tease him back, but he only stalks forward proudly. I'm not much taller than him, just by like an inch or two, but he makes himself seem bigger as he gets right in my face, nose to nose. He doesn't kiss me just yet, instead he puts both arms around my waist and I feel his hands sliding down until they're grabbing my ass gruffly.
"I'm going to make you regret saying that." He threatens with a grin that's evolved passed coy to become menacing. I can think of plenty to say in return, but he wrestles control from me, his lips crashing onto mine again, right where they belong. He doesn't have to try hard to pry them apart, and I feel his tongue slide into my mouth as he leads me backwards, back over to the bed where he shoves me down and takes a long look. I'm fine where I'm at, I've got a great view for when he starts to strip. Whether to punish me or give me a show, I'm not sure, but he definitely takes his time before I finally get him in bed.
We take it slow, and go way longer than we probably should, but not only am I able to finish my homework for the day, we even have like an extra hour to just cuddle in bed and watch something on my phone. When the time comes to leave I'm definitely feeling a lot looser—or, well, relaxed I mean—but the problem is I'm so comfortable that I really don't want to go. There's not much of a choice though, so after I say goodbye to Jonah I head out to get ready for the game with the rest of my team.
Football in college is different than football in high school too. This isn't some big name university where everyone tries to follow what's going on, it's a small town college, but it doesn't matter much to me either way. I've always just liked the game, I don't know, something about figuring out strategy and working through problems with a team makes a lot of sense to me. Definitely makes a hell of a lot more sense than most of the pointless bullshit people keep trying to teach me, so I'm happy to play, even when nobody's looking. Plus, it's not like we go completely unnoticed anyway.
When the game is finally about to start we head out to the field, and the stands are filled with applause. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this part of it too, the way people cheer for me, put their faith in me, nod to me when we pass on the quad. It might just be a tiny college in an average town, but it's important to some of us, and I like the way it makes me feel. Even now I hear someone call my name, but there's no way to tell where it came from. Besides, there's only one person watching tonight that I care about, and I find him where he always sits, right in the front.
Jonah's only missed a handful of my games in the last four years, but he's always made damn sure to be here when he can, even though I know he doesn't care about football like I do. Having him here, watching, has always made me want to step up my game, to be the best, to make him proud, and tonight isn't any different. The referee blows the whistle and I'm all over the field like a fucking animal, it's just the first quarter but the team we're up against isn't here to dick around, they've got a linebacker built like a goddamn gorilla.
I've been doing this for a long time though, so I keep my head down, follow coach's plan, and do my part. By the end of the third quarter we're already leading, but I take the chance to show off a little when the opportunity comes, narrowly dodging gorilla dude to make it to the end zone and score a touchdown. The other team is pissed, but I try not to rub it in too much as I scan the excited crowd. I glance at Jonah, on his feet, hands cupped around his mouth like he's trying to tell me something, but I don't need to hear it to know what he's saying.
I blow a kiss his way and then point, making sure everybody knows what I'm doing all this for. That's my man right there, I love him so fucking much. After I acknowledge him he just goes back to clapping, but the smile glued to his face gets bigger, accentuating those dimples of his that I think are so cute. To tell you the truth I probably don't have to work so hard to impress him, I'm sure I could just run circles around the field and he would still think I was the coolest guy ever. But I want more than that, I want to be worthy of him, worthy of that love.
Barring a miracle, the game is already over, no matter what happens next we've already won. Still, I want to make it hard for them, so I put my feet back on the ground and get into position. I should enjoy this a little more, when I graduate there probably won't be too many more chances to have a game like this—the smell of the grass, the crisp air, the sound of adoration all around me. Hell, even the way the sky glows from the stadium lights, stealing all the glory from the setting sun.
The ball snaps and the play starts, and I run. Everything in my life feels right, just the way it should be. It's not perfect, yeah, but nothing's perfect, and I have more than I could ever hope for. I've got Jonah and we don't have that long to go until graduation, and I've got football and a bunch of really great friends that I don't have to pretend for. Even though some things never change I still can't help but feel I'm nothing like I was five years ago, and that's a good thing, regardless of the consequences.
The football flies my way and I catch it, slipping around the guy who tries to tackle me. Jonah catches my eye when I run passed and I look at him again, thinking about everything we've been through, and how lucky I was to find him. I was such a fuck up before we got together, I can't imagine where I would be today if we hadn't. I definitely wouldn't be here, on this field, in college. I'd probably still be in the closet, hating myself. Wherever I'd be, I wouldn't be happy, not like this, but the years we've shared have made me strong. Proud. Confident. He makes me feel like a goddamn king.
He has to know that, I can see it, all the love he has for me. That big smile he wears melts my heart, but I guess I must stare at it for a second too long, because it starts to change. It fades into a frantic frown, and he goes back to yelling. I still can't hear what it is, but when I finally look away to get my head in the game, I see the gorilla linebacker charging straight at me. It's the last thing I see before I feel the impact, like getting hit by a truck that knocks all the breath out of me, and then everything just goes black.