Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mind Control, Fiction, Vampires, MaleDom, Transformation,
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Alan Grey should be living the perfect teenage life. He's rich, handsome, and a star athlete. But an unattainable crush and inattentive parents have dragged him down into depression. His only ray of happiness is his Aunt Eloise, who is more than she seems.
I hate this feeling of anticipation.
All the energy and all the emotions you feel are trapped in dead space. There is no outlet, no relief, just waiting, and I hate waiting.
I was changing alone in the locker room. I was late getting to the gym, and the team was already shooting hoops on the court.
There was something about the rank smell of the guy's locker room that always put me in game mode; must be subconscious or something.
I ripped open my sports bag and started rummaging around. My basketball uniform fell out along with my new shoes. The shoes were the new Nike brand. Nike AIR. My parents were always proud of my athletic abilities; not that they ever came to my games. The shoes themselves were FedEX'ed. Right now they were in London or something, or maybe Paris, fuck if I know.
The shoes felt good going on, a little stiff, but all new shoes are that way.
"Thanks Mom and Dad," I muttered under my breath.
I stood up and walked around in them some; they were great shoes. I slapped some pre-game Axe on.
"You commin' or what, Alan?"
I looked up. Standing in the doorway to the gym was Nick Monroe; the greatest fucking athlete to step through the doors of Ocean High.
I grinned, "Yeah man, let's do this thing."
We high fived, and stepped out into the gym. I hadn't had time to warm up, and everyone else on the team looked pretty loose, they were already starting to sweat a little.
Practically the whole school was out in the stands, and everyone was going wild. People had their faces painted, and some folks were jumping up and down.
A voice called out from the crowd. "Yeah Nick, get em Nick."
Both Nick and I turned around. The blonde and beautiful Evie Clearwater was waving at us. Her eyes were dead focused on Nick. He smiled and waved back, and then made a fist pumping motion.
I tried to swallow my jealousy.
We both jogged to our bench.
Our Coach, Mr. Young, was a man built like a mountain, with a mustache to match.
"Alright guys, we win this one and we go on to play in the championship. You guys know the drill. You've all practiced hard for this one, so get out there and kick some ass."
We all put our hands in the middle...
"Team." We all yelled together.
We broke the huddle.
"Starters take the court," Coach Young shouted.
Nick, Jake, Paul, Neil, and I all tromped out onto the court.
Nick is point guard. I'm a wing and the three-point shooter. Paul's a wing and as fast as hell. Jake is tall and lanky, easily six foot seven, and can grab most wild balls from over the other teams' heads. Neil is our brick house center. Neil does what we like to call, 'the heavy lifting'.
We all stood around center court. The team from Orange High lined up around the center with us. Jake was getting ready to take the jump, and some dirty blonde six-four guy took the position in front of him.
The ref threw the ball up in the air.
We got the jump.
The game started out fast. The other team had us nailed when it came to speed. Even Paul was having a hard time keeping up. For the first half of the game they scored twenty-six of their forty points on fast breaks.
That would have been devastating, had it not been for Nick's flair.
When a basketball hits Nick Monroe's hands, magic happens. He twists, dodges, and fakes in such fluid motions that it looks like he's dancing instead of dribbling.
He makes lay-ups look like art.
Nick scored twenty-four of our points.
When they got wise and started crowding the middle he laid it off to me.
I sank four three pointers.
When I wasn't open I passed to Neil, who'd muscle his way in.
He got four points.
Jake got a put back; and Paul got a fast break.
And a secondary player named Sam got one lucky shot at the buzzer.
Forty-six to forty, we were winning, barely.
When half time rolled around we were all sweaty messes.
We all lined up to get into the locker room, with Coach Young leading the way.
"Whooowho! Yeah Nick, you're on fire!" Evie cheered from the side-lines. Her beautiful blonde hair was a tangled mess from all the excitement.
Nick gave her a salute, and then marched into the locker room. I followed him.
Coach laid into us about how he was going to make us run till we puked if we let the other team control the fast game.
"Remember guys," he said. "We've been practicing just for this. These guys are fast, but I know we can be faster. These guys are good, but we've already proven that we're better."
We broke the huddle, and walked back out onto the court. The crowd went crazy to see us return. The other team was already sitting at their bench, they didn't look as tired as we did.
The second half started out badly.
Nick was on his game; he scored eighteen more points right out of the gate. I, however, was not. Nick passed it to me twice. I air balled one shot, and the other one bounced off the glass and into the hands of the other team.
He stopped passing to me.
The other team had players that weren't starters that were good enough to pick up some slack. Coach Young didn't take our starters out unless we asked for it, and even then we had to be about to faint.
Neil stepped up his game a little. He got six more points to Nicks eighteen. That gave us an even seventy points. The other team, however, played like a different group of people.
They scored thirty-three points in the beginning of the second half.
Seventy-three to Seventy. We were down.
The clock only had ten seconds on it. A guy on the other team fouled us, and we had the ball on their side of the court. Then Coach Young called time out.
We staggered over to the bench. "Alright guys," Young said. "Paul is going to throw it in to Nick, and Nick is going to try and get it to the other side without getting fouled. Then Nick, you're going to drop it to Alan, and Alan is going to try and pop the shot and tie, so we can go into overtime."
We all nodded.
My palms suddenly felt sweaty. My shot hadn't been on this second half.
We broke, and trotted back out into the last seconds of the game.
Nick did his part flawlessly. A player on the other team tried to close in on him and give him a slap on the wrist. Nick neatly evaded him and crossed half court.
He fluidly passed the ball right into my hands.
My feet were centered, and facing the rim. I turned and bent my knees to take the shot.
I cocked back and let loose.
The moment the ball left my hands I knew it was off. All I could do was watch dejectedly as it bounced off the rim, and straight back into the air.
The buzzer sounded before it hit the court.
Coach Young didn't have much to say, he was never very talkative when we lost a game. Our season was over. We would have one last practice that would wind things down next week, then that would be it.
We quietly changed back into our street clothes in the locker room. It was early February and cold outside.
We could hear people milling around out in the gym.
I pulled my brown jacket on, and pulled up the collar. I slung my gym bag over my shoulder. I walked past Nick on the way out.
"Good game." I said.
Nick didn't look up, he just sat there clenching and unclenching his hands. After a minute had passed, I ignored him, and left.
I walked out into the parking lot. I didn't have a car and my backpack was already home.
I walked home in the cool night air, already trying to forget the game.
~Evandra~ I shifted my weight from one foot to another. I smoothed down my blouse with my free hand, and adjusted my book bag over my shoulder. I kept one eye on the boy's locker room door, waiting for Nick to come out.
Stephanie was talking non-stop in my ear the entire time.
"Like, Nick was AMAZING, did you see that one lay-up in the first half? He is so cool. Too bad about the game though, Alan usually shoots better than that."
Stephanie has the hots for my boyfriend. She also has the hots for Alan, my boyfriend's best friend. They are called the gorgeous duo by the girls on campus; and not without good reason.
Alan is good looking, with his long black hair and bright blue eyes. He had such a slender frame that he could probably model if he wanted to, if he ever got his acne problems under control.
Nick, however, was GORGEOUS. He has short dirty blond hair and dark chocolate eyes. Six two with broad shoulders, just thinking about him was enough to make a girl's knees go weak.
I'd been hanging out with them a lot. Ever since I started going with Nick in September. Nick is a lot of fun, easy to talk to, easy to look at, what more could you want in a boyfriend? Alan was nice, probably nicer than Nick if truth be told, but he was quiet, and not approachable; meaning that no matter how good looking he was, he stayed single.
Nick glumly emerged from the locker room. He had changed back into his white polo and jeans; they were tight, and showed off his muscles.
"Hi, Nick," Stephanie crooned in a voice that made it clear she was in violation of the 'don't flirt with my boyfriend' rule.
Nick looked up glumly, in full moping mode. "Hey Steph."
Stephanie was a blonde from a bottle girl who always wore pink and had several moles on her face.
I sided up next to Nick, trying to mark my territory. I grabbed his hand. "Come on, Nicky, let's get out of here."
His hand grabbed mine in return, a little too hard, but not unbearable. "Yeah, come on, I'll drive you home."
Nick drove me to school most days, he picked me up at my house so we could ride together.
We walked out into the cold parking lot. I edged closer to him, trying to keep warm, but also hoping he'd kiss me before he'd drop me home.
This is the part where he usually puts his arm around me and draws me closer. Today he did nothing, I guess I understood, he's still bummed about the basketball game.
Maybe he needs some comforting. I always like talking about my problems with my friends.
"Don't worry about the game Nick, you played great!" I said, trying to sound full of cheer.
He turned and glowered at me, well excuse me for caring.
We clambered into Nick's truck. He turned the ignition and got the heat going. He didn't make any move to reverse the car out of the space though.
"Um, Nick?" I begin.
Nick suddenly slammed his hands down onto the steering wheel. "Fuckin' Alan, can't do his fuckin' JOB!"
I turned and looked at him, I crossed my arms around my stomach. I hated it when Nick got like this.
I tried to soothe him. "Come one Nick, don't worry about it, there was nothing you could've done, you were the best guy out there."
Nick was not to be consoled. "All he has to do is pop threes. That's all he's even GOOD for. He can't do anything else, and what does he do? HE FUCKS IT UP!"
I didn't want to stick around; my thoughts of a nice night in the truck necking with Nick had just vanished in a puff of smoke. I just wanted to get home, get this stupid bra off and jump in a warm bath.
"Look Nick, if you're just gonna rag on Alan right now at least take me home..."
He looked over at me, for a split second he looked furious. Then fire left his eyes and he calmed down.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll get you home, sorry bout that." He said. He threw the car in reverse and sped off down the road to my house. It is really dark now and all the streetlights are on, and a couple cars are on the road looking for a good Friday night.
Ten minutes later, Nick was driving through the suburb where I live. He's calm now. He put on some rap and started bobbing his head to it.
He knows that I hate rap, but he has had a rough night, so I don't complain. Pretty soon we pulled up to my house.
"Here ya go, Evie. Sorry about my little outburst, it just ... damn ... we worked so hard for that game, it was hard not to get mad at Alan."
I just nodded, and fumbled with my seat belt. Nick quickly leaned over the armrest and pecked me on the lips. I could smell some beer on him. He must have grabbed a swig in the locker room; that was probably why he was the last out. I was a little pissed he drove me home with alcohol in his system, but I didn't bring it up.
"Good night Evie," He said.
I tried to muster a convincing smile, "Good night Nicky."
I got out of the car.
He drove off immediately, the rap in the car was now audible from the street. He must have turned it up to a deafening volume. Bastard didn't even wait till I got inside my house.
I trudged up my drive to the front door in the dark, battling my way through moths, and listening to crickets chirp.
~Alan~ It was a very cold night.
It was about midnight, and I could see my breath fog in the chilly air, which is unusual for California. My hands were warm inside my jacket, and I walked slowly. I was in no hurry to get to an empty house. Or mansion, as most would call it.
My father owns his own company. He owns his own 'successful company.' 'Grey Investments'.
He handles stocks or investments or something. Whatever he does, he does it well. I've never been told how rich we are, but I know we're up there. The down side is that my parents are never home. They are always off looking into some foreign problem with the company, or attending high-powered parties.
The long and short of it is I don't see them much.
The street lights were bright at this time of night, and the entire neighborhood was quiet.
My house is the last number in the nicest neighborhood in town. It sits on top of a pretty big hill, and has a stucco wall surrounding it.
I walked up to a side door, and punched in the electronic lock code. The door buzzed, and swung open. I walked through and began to stroll up the drive.
I let myself in.
The hallway is the largest part of the house, and mostly made up of marble. We have a big deep red rug at the front door, and directly ahead is a double staircase leading upstairs. The house is dark, but I don't bother to turn on lights.
I made my way up the stairs. I don't really feel entirely comfortable in any room other than my own when nobody else is home. It just feels, eerie.
I felt better once I got into my room. I threw my bag on my bed and grabbed a shower.
I tried my hardest to let the hot water cleanse the images of that stray three point shot from my memory, no such luck.
I got out of the shower with a towel around my waist. My cell was buzzing in my bag. I checked caller ID.
It said 'Ian' in little digital letters.
"Hey Ian," I said, sounding as depressed as I felt. "How's it going?"
"Hi Alan, geez you sound like crap. I heard about the game, sorry." Ian's voice sounds even more nasally on the phone than it does in real life, but he is sincere, Ian's a good guy.
"Thanks man, it's been a rough night," I said with considerably more pep in my voice.
"Good to hear," Ian replied. "Look, you free? Tomorrow is Saturday and I was wondering if you wanted to hook up at the mall?"
Ian is my nerdy friend from Pre-School. We publicly drifted apart once we started identifying ourselves as different things. I became the jock and he became the technical geek. But we were still great friends. I didn't mind risking social suicide for Ian ... I loved that I never had to watch what I said around him, unlike with Nick, who has taken over the role of my best friend.
"Yeah, sure Ian. I'll meet you up there at say ten in the morning? Maybe we'll catch a movie or something," I said.
"That'd be great; see ya then Alan."
"Yeah, bye Ian." I hung up the phone, and tossed it onto the side table.
I flopped down on my bed and sighed, I was probably gonna catch shit from the team on Monday.
"Jerk ... jerk ... jerk ... jerk," I muttered to myself. Timing the 'jerks' to each step I took. I wrenched open the front door and slammed it loudly. I heard the television on in the living room. Dad must be watching the game. It sounded like basketball, and I had had enough basketball for one day.
"Hey, honey," I heard my dad call from the living room.
"Hey Dad, I'm home," I said.
"Let me know if you need anything." He replied.
"Okay I will..."
I ran upstairs to my room and shut the door. My room still has stuffed animals in it. Dad won't let me get rid of them. He still liked to think of me as his little girl, which truth be told was a nice feeling at times.
I started running my bath.
Feeling like Nick's extra bad behavior warranted it, I poured my remaining bubble bath into the tub. The smell of lavender filled the bathroom.
I quickly stripped of my blouse and wriggled out my jeans. I unhooked my bra and began massaging my breasts; attempting to get some feeling back into them. I shucked off my panties next, and I slowly lowered myself down into the warm water.
I placed my phone on a little table I keep next to the bath.
Texting and soaking was my guilty pleasure.
I dozed peacefully for a few minutes, occasionally turning on the hot tap to warm things up a bit. My phone suddenly lit up, and made the little bell sound to inform me I have a text.
It was from Nick, not someone whom I'm in the best of moods with. Guy could at least call me and speak if he wanted to say sorry.
I read the text.
'Hey, Evie. Srry bout my temper. Make it up to u?' I paused, he's such a boy, but a cute one, so I responded, tersely, can't let him think I'm happy with him.
'How?' 'U, me, movie?' I didn't have anything planned for tomorrow, but that didn't mean I was going make this easy for him.
'Y, you wre mean.' 'Come on baby ... plse?' I waited, just to mess with him.
'k ... pick me up @ 9.' I turned my phone off before he could respond, and slowly sunk back down into my bath...
My dad called up the stairs, "Honey, don't stay in that bath for more than ten minutes or you'll prune."
"I just got in dad," I yelled from the tub.
"Oh, okay then."
~Alan~ I couldn't sleep.
I have always been a bit of a night owl, but recently it has turned into full-blown insomnia. I don't stay up anymore just because I'm a kid and I can, now I really have trouble falling into the land of nod.
Suffice it to say, I've become intimate with the ceiling of my room.
I missed my parents. I was mad at myself for fucking up today and all this not sleeping was starting to mess with my complexion, which only served to further distance the gap between Nick and me in the looks department.
My best friend is dating the hottest girl in school, while all girls seemed to avoid me like the plague.
I reached over to my bedside table and grabbed a post card.
On the card there is a stunning midnight view of the Eiffel tower. The card depicted the metal monstrosity with all its lights glowing like a Christmas tree. Every time I looked at it I felt a bit better.
The card was from my Aunt.
Aunt Eloise is probably the coolest relative I have.
Every time my parents go gallivanting off Aunt Eloise pokes her head in for a couple days to keep me company. She'd come over and we'd stay up till the crack of dawn watching James Bond movies, and talking about all kinds of stuff.
My parents have been gone for eight days, and Eloise still hadn't shown up. She would never call. That wasn't her way. Instead one day I'll find her in the living room, with a huge stack of DVDs to plow through, or some other escapade planned that my parents just never seemed to have time for.
I flip open the post card with my thumb.
'Dear Alan, having a great time sampling the French culture and having fun with some very old friends ... I'm thinking of you ... hope the parents aren't being downers again ... the second I get back you and I are going to watch 'The Man with the Golden Gun' forty times.
Hang in there little nephew.
-Eloise' I closed the card and put it back on my nightstand.
I suppose things could be worse. I dug around under my covers and found the T.V. remote. I pointed it at the flat screen on the wall in front of my bed.
The midnight news flickered on, and the light from the pale screen danced over my face. After an hour or so my eyes became unfocused as a newscaster told me about some stocks that have fallen and a farmer who found a two-headed chicken.
The news had just completed its loop and was repeating itself when I fell asleep.
I woke up at seven.
I must be the only teenager in the world who couldn't sleep in. I yawned and stretched, and managed to pry myself from my bed.
The T.V. was still on, and some talking heads were debating with each other over the merits of whatever the President was currently doing.
I switched the television off.
I hate politics.
It was depressing to walk down the stairs knowing that the house would be still and empty. The kitchen was dark. I opened up a few curtains and blinked owlishly at the rising sun.
I decided breakfast would be cereal, the kid in me demanded I break out a bowel of Coco Puffs, but the adult in me who wanted the pimples on my forehead gone, reached for the granola.
I ate in silence.
I leafed through yesterday's newspaper, but couldn't find anything interesting. Sighing, I drank the remaining milk from my bowl and put it in the sink. The empty kitchen was too spooky to stay in by myself, so I made a retreat to my room.
I opened my backpack, and decided to get my homework done. So I sat down at my desk, feeling like a total nerd, and started trying to make sense of derivatives.
~Evandra~ Daddy makes the best breakfasts.
Saturday mornings have always been our bonding time.
I was sitting at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. My dad was scurrying around in a pink apron from surface to surface trying to fry bacon, cook pancakes, and squeeze oranges into juice at the same time. My dad was slim for his age, and had blond hair that was going grey. He wore glasses, and always seemed to be in a good mood.
"You could help you know," he said teasingly.
I spun around on the bar stool, sending my hair twirling around my head. "I know Daddy," I said with a smile.
He sighed ... and continued making breakfast.
Ten minutes later I had a feast of pancakes, bacon and fresh orange juice. My dad just had coffee. I always thought that it was weird that dad never actually ate the big breakfasts he made.
Maybe he was trying to make me fat.
I didn't care, I tucked in. It was delicious, as always.
"So what are your plans today?" Dad asked between swigs of coffee.
Ugh, no matter how cool parents are, they all ask that same questions. Why didn't they realize it was so awkward?
"Um, Nick offered to take me to see a movie at around nine," I said with pancake in my mouth.
He smiled. "He picking you up?"
I checked the clock on the stove. Eight forty three. I gobbled down the last of my pancakes and chased them with some orange juice.
I gave dad a peck on the cheek. "Thanks Dad, gotta go get ready."
He chuckled to himself, "See you around dear."
Nick pulled up my drive at nine thirty three.
I had been ready for forty minutes. Dad had already left to go to his exercise club ... which left me to sit around alone in the house. I was bored and extremely angry.
I climbed into his car.
"You're late," I said frostily.
Nick looked at me with puppy dog eyes. "Sorry babe ... I just lost track of time."
I crossed my arms and huffed. "Just drive."
He stepped on the gas.
~Alan~ I had finished all my homework.
I felt like such a nerd. I sat back in my desk chair, and groaned. My back was stiff from hunching over my desk.
I looked at the clock. Nine fifty. It took five minutes to get to the mall if I borrowed a car from the garage. I decided to get up ... lest I do the entire week's homework and condemn myself to eternal geekdom.
I switched off my computer and threw my books back in my bag. I slipped on my loafers and hustled down stairs.
I pulled out my cell phone, and punched in Ian's number.
"Heya Alan, I just got to the mall. You here yet?" Ian said.
I almost tripped down the stairs trying to talk and run at the same time.
"No I haven't even left the house yet."
Ian groaned. "Alright just hurry. Get something fast out of that dealership your folks keep up there."
I snorted. "Very funny Ian."
"See you in a sec Alan." Ian hung up the phone.
Unfortunately, Ian wasn't kidding. My father kept our garage stuffed with cars. Last time I counted there were ten, maybe eleven cars sitting in the twenty spot garage. My father was the typical car enthusiast, he knew each by heart, and could probably maintain them all himself. Mother often called him her 'grease monkey.' I ran out the front double doors. Jackson the gardener waved at me.
"Where do you fly to at such speeds?" He called in his naturally poetic voice.
"To the mall to meet a friend, sorry but I'm already late." I yelled over my shoulder.
I typed in the code to the garage and grabbed the closest one to the door. The reason for such security on the garage door was because dad left the keys in the ignition. He was always saying he didn't want a drawer in the house filled with ten or so car keys.
It happened to be the 'Lincoln Town Car.' It was a car usually used by my mother's chauffer, and even came with full ballistic protection. The car was a car, however, and I turned the key and the engine purred to life, and I was out the garage and speeding down into town.
~Evandra~ Nick complained through the entire movie. Admittedly I made him watch a chick flick, but I felt that he needed some form of punishment for making me wait an hour.
I poked him in the ribs. "You know, you could act a little bit more like Hugh Grant, and a little less like a spoiled boy."
He broke into his handsome and disarming grin, "Would you really change me Evie?" He said arrogantly.
I giggled before I could help it. Damn hormones. "Come on Prince Charming, I want a smoothie from the food court."
Together we walked out of the movie theater and caught the escalator up to the food court.
I saw Alan before Nick did.
Even on the best of days Alan Grey seemed to be far away. Today he was all out brooding. Next to him was some kid I'd seen in the halls but had never spoken with.
He was talking animatedly to Alan, probably trying to get rid of his funk; however; Alan just listlessly stared at the fake plants sitting in the corner of the food court.
That is, until his eyes snapped over to Nick and myself. His bright eyes settled on me. At first I saw surprise in his eyes, but that faded, and suddenly he just looked bored again.
That unfortunately, was when Nick saw him.
~Alan~ Evandra looked beautiful today.
Her blond hair was tucked behind her ears with an exotic braid, and her tight fitting blue button down combined with her white pants made her look like something from out of this world.
My musings were shattered by the image of Nick standing right beside her. He looked like he always did with simple blue jeans and a polo shirt; he oozed confidence.
His eyes darted over to Ian and me, his smile slipped, until it was replaced by one of livid anger. Evie made a grab for his arm, but Nick was already storming over to our table.
Ian was still talking excitedly about this new camera his parents had bought for him. I raised my hand slightly on the table.
Ian recognized the subtle sign we had devised as children, and fell silent. I raised my head and steeled myself to deal with Nick.
"Hey shit for brains!" Nick called. Several other patrons of the food court looked over.
I tried to keep my voice down; I didn't want to attract any more attention. "Hey Nick, what's the problem?" I said, trying to feign ignorance.
"Don't talk crap, you know exactly what the problem is. That fucking three pointer last night, that's the problem."
Despite my knowledge of Nick's temper I thought he was being a bit extreme. Sure no one likes to lose, but it wasn't worth getting mall security up your ass, or having a fall out with your 'best friend.'
"Nick man, I know I screwed up, I must have been having a bad day, I'm sorry."
Nick curled his hands into fists. "You're sorry! You're FUCKIN sorry! I bet my twelve thousand dollars on that basketball game."
Wait, Nick didn't bet THE money did he? He wouldn't, he'd been saving that since freshman year.
"Nick, please tell me you didn't bet THAT money, tell me you wouldn't do something that STUPID."
His fist moved so fast that I couldn't even see it.
Pain lanced across my skull and I heard something crack. I toppled over in my chair and landed hard on the tile floor.
My vision dimmed for a second, and it felt like I was listening to everything from underwater. I heard Evie squeal, and I heard Ian freaking out.
"Jesus, Nick you freakin' knocked your best friend out," I heard Ian say.
I heard Nick chuckle darkly overhead. "This asshole is no friend of mine, he's all yours queer."
Things got a little fuzzy after that.
I blinked a couple times Ian was kneeling next to me; he was gently shaking my arm.
"Hey, Alan, buddy can you hear me?"
I groaned in response and sat up.
Ian quickly braced me with his hands, "Hey don't overdo it now, you took quite a slug."
I tenderly touched my face. I was definitely going to have a black eye. I tried to shake Ian off.
"I'm okay Ian. Nick has quite a right hook."
Ian grinned. "Very funny, I nearly had a heart attack when you went down like that. The little Miss Clearwater wasn't very happy either."
I choked. Laughing hurt my face. "I'm judging our little blond princess still went home with my attacker though."
Ian nodded solemnly. "Yeah, sorry about that man, I know you still hold a torch for her."
I blanched, "When did I tell you that?" I asked.
Ian shrugged, "We got drunk at my house last summer remember? You told me all about her. I've personally never spoken to her. Beauty queens like that are out of my league."
I tasted blood in my mouth; I must have bitten my tongue.
"Yeah well Nick asked her out in the fall, before I got the nerve to ask her. I doubt she would have said yes anyway. I think beauty queens like that are out of my league as well."
Ian laughed and rolled his eyes.
A woman in her mid-forties walked up to Ian and me with a security guard in tow.
She had a high squeaky voice and short brown hair. The woman struck me as a soccer mom who spied on her neighbors.
"There they are," the woman said. "I don't see the one throwing the punches, but the dark haired one got hit pretty hard."
A large security guard lumbered up to Ian and me. He stuck out a hand. "Come on; let me help you up kid."
I grabbed his meaty hand and the guard lifted me up to my feet with surprising strength. I smiled at the big guy.
"Thanks." I said.
He smiled back, "Don't thank me just yet, I gotta ask you some questions."
I shrugged. At this point I just wanted to get home and put an ice pack on my face.
"Name?" He asked.
"Alan Grey," I said.
The guard took out a little pad and scribbled my name down.
"Do you want to press charges against your assailant?"
I shook my head, "Nah, I just wanna get out of here and nurse my pride."
The guard grinned, and flipped his note pad closed. "Alright then, that makes things easier. Boys will be boys and all that. Since all the witnesses are adamant that all you did was take a bruiser to the face, you are free to go."
The guard gave me one last look, and waddled away back into his security golf cart.
I turned to Ian. "Did you walk here?" I asked.
Ian nodded. "Yeah, but you don't look so good Alan, I don't think you should drive."
I smiled, "That's just what I was thinking," I pulled out the keys to the Lincoln and tossed them to Ian.
"Drive us to your place; I need a Star Wars marathon to cheer me up."
~Evandra~ I was a little bit sick to my stomach.
Nick and I were walking swiftly towards the mall entrance. We were holding hands and his grip was excruciatingly hard.
Nick's jaw was clenched and he was holding his right hand next to his chest. We walked out into the parking lot.
It was a warm day and for a second I had forgotten what Nick had just done.
"Evie, let me explain," Nick said in a strained voice.
I shook my head, "No Nick, whatever reason you had for punching Alan is your business. I didn't hear most of what you guys said, but I don't care. Just take me home. I'll see you at school."
Nick was quiet for a moment, and we walked into the parking lot. His truck was hot from sitting in the sun.
We left the mall and drove at a rather tame pace, especially for Nick. I noticed he didn't use his right hand on the wheel.
We turned onto my street, and Nick slowed the truck to a crawl.
"Are you breaking up with me Evie?" Nick asked in a quiet voice.
I looked into his chocolate brown eyes. For once I didn't see any of his trademark egotism there.
"No Nick, I'm not breaking up with you."
I heard him sigh. "Thanks love, with everything else going on, I think losing you would have been the end of me."
He kissed me, and waited until I was safely inside before he drove off.
~Alan~ There is something soothing about 'The Return of the Jedi.' It has all the things I like in a movie. Scantily clad woman, light sabers, and the knowledge that good will always triumph over evil.
Ian and I were in a movie-induced haze by the time the credits rolled. In our mental absence we had somehow consumed three pizzas and a twelve pack of coke, something which I was no doubt going to regret later. But for right now I was feeling pretty good.
I checked my watch. It was about seven thirty PM.
I glanced over at Ian. He was racked out on the couch snoring. Half a slice of pizza was resting on his chest.
It might not one of those fabulous high school parties with cheerleaders and beer, but I could honestly say I had had more fun today than I had at any of those stupid things.
I stretched lazily, and pain shot through my face.
I walked into Ian's bathroom to inspect the damage, and I gasped. All around my left eye was a blotchy yellow and green bruise.
Damn, no way was that going to heal up before Monday.
I grabbed my keys, and wrote Ian a quick note telling him I'd taken off.
I got into my car and sped off into the fading light.
I could feel the sugar high wearing off as I pulled into the garage.
Apparently sugar and greasy cheese can't solve every problem. My friendship with Nick was effectively shot. Despite the fact that there was no way I could have known Nick had so much riding on the game, I doubted he would see it that way.
And if Nick wasn't my friend, then none of the other jocks were my friends. I'd essentially go from second in command to below the radar. That hurt more than I was willing to admit. I had grown fond of being popular, even if it was only vicariously through Nick.
I briefly toyed with the idea of letting the school know my secret. I'd have more friends than I'd know what to do with if people knew how loaded my family was.
I dismissed that though almost as soon as it crossed my mind. I promised myself I wouldn't be that guy.
I closed the garage door with the combination, and started walking to the back door. I needed an ice pack and an aspirin, and then I'd see how the rest of the evening played out. Who knows, maybe there would be something good on T.V.
I opened the door and flicked on the lights.
"How's my favorite nephew doing?"
I was so startled I dropped my house keys.
Aunt Eloise was leaning against the fridge, with a warm smile on her face.
A feeling of pure joy bloomed inside me, and encompassed me all the way down to my toes. Without even thinking about it, I threw my arms around her and hugged her as hard as I could.
Her musical laughter washed away my depression like a cleansing wave.
Edited by Sagacious