Am I...?

The blare of the alarm clock jolts me awake from my peaceful sleep. With rocky, dried, tears in the corners of my eyes and a fine stream of drool down the side of my face, I climb out of bed and shut my alarm clock off. First day...first day...

After three years of high school, the fourth and final year has arrived. Senior year. I'm both looking forward to and am terribly afraid of what it's going to be like. A sudden knock comes from the other side of my door. "Josh! Are you awake?"

And there's Mom, always there to make sure I'm up and ready for school even though my clock does most of the work for her. "Yeah Mom, I'm up," I call back.

"Just making sure! Breakfast will be ready in about twenty minutes!"

"Thanks Mom."

I hear her walk away from the door and I step into my bathroom. Oh right. My name's Josh Rusden. I turned eighteen a week and a half ago and am what you'd call your stereotypical jock thanks to my three years of playing football for my high school. It's given me a body worthy of a Greek God.

I'm six foot two, one hundred-eighty pounds of nothing but muscle. Along with that is my close cut dark brown hair, cool grey eyes, not a single blemish and a five o'clock shadow that never goes away and makes me look like I'm in college. Yeah, I know. I'm freaking hot!

After a quick shower, I go back to my room to change into my clothes for the day. Nothing special, just a tight fitting t-shirt that can show off my body to the ladies, some khaki shorts, and my favorite pair of sneakers. I go back into the bathroom and finish all my other morning routine activities.

With a bit of gel in my hair to spike it up a bit in the front, I grab my bag from beside my bedroom door and head downstairs. I find Mom standing at the front of the stove holding a spatula and Dad at the kitchen table with his morning mug up coffee. "Hey guys," I say.

"Hi sweetie," says Mom.

"Hey bud," says Dad.

I walk over to both of them and give them a quick hug before taking a seat at the table across from Dad. Mom comes over with three steaming plates of bacon and eggs and hands two to me and Dad and keeping the third for herself. "Are you ready for your senor year, sweetie?" Mom asks me.

"I guess," I say with a mouthful of egg.

"It's okay to be nervous bud," says Dad.

"I know, Dad. Maybe I am a bit nervous."

"It's okay, bud. You just need to be the confident person we all know you are. Trust me. You'll do great."

Both of their faces reassure me and I smile at both of them. I finish my breakfast and take my plate to the sink and wash it out. I grab my bag from the table and give Mom and Dad another hug before I head out the door. A Southern California morning is always amazing. The sun's just starting to come up and there isn't a cloud in the sky.

I walk down the stone steps and get to my Chevy Camaro. I climb in and ignite the engine and head off to school. After a fifteen minute drive, I pull into the school parking lot and find a spot in no time. As I climb out, I'm met by a few voices calling me. "Hey Josh!"

I look back and see Mark Presley and Shawn Leif, my two long time best friends from the football team. "Hey guys!" I call back.

We welcome each other with two firm bro hugs. "How was your summer?" asks Mark.

"Not bad. I spent most of my time working at the hardware store in the town center and made some good cash."

"Enough to finally ask a girl out?" asks Shawn.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Josh, come on," says Mark. "Ever since we first started high school, you stayed single. Girls have practically thrown themselves at you to want to get in bed with you and you haven't taken advantage of one of them."

"Sorry guys. None of the girls seem like...my type, I guess. I think I might want something long term while most of them probably want to ride my cock for a little while and leave the second they get bored."

All of a sudden, there's a huge engine roar to my left and it causes me and the guys to jump a bit. I look and see a pure black motorcycle. It's streamline design is straddled by a guy in a black leather jacket, jeans, and a black helmet that covers his head. He lifts up the eye cover and I see two, dark blue eyes. "Sorry," he says. "I just need to get around you three."

Mark, Shawn, and I take a few steps to our left. "Thanks," the guy says.

He revs the throttle to his bike again and drives by the three of us. We all watch him go by. "That was a nice bike," says Mark.

"I don't think I've seen him before," I say.

"I'm pretty sure he's new," says Shawn. "My dad was telling me about a guy that just started at his work. He's supposed to have a kid that's our age that's going to be starting here."

The warning bell rings, telling us we need to get to class. We all head toward the school, Sawn and Mark talking about the new kid's bike. But I'm more focused on another thing: his eyes and how they made my heart skip a beat when I looked into them.

My class schedule says I have AP Biology with Mr. Creswell. I'm dreading the thought of having class with Mr. Creswell. Ryan, my older brother who's currently at UC Berkeley, had Mr. Creswell a few years ago and described it as 'pure hell.' He always told me and our parents of how Mr. Creswell was an arrogant asshole who absolutely despises kids, which made us all wonder why he went into teaching in the first place.

I find room 135 and walk in. And sure enough, there's Mr. Creswell, writing on the board with the scowl I see him have whenever I pass him in the hallway. He glances toward me and goes back to the board. "The seating chart is on my desk," he says. "Find your name and take a seat."

Creswell might be an asshole, or he may just be a serious teacher. I find my name and go back three rows and sit at a lab table for two people. Other kids start walking in and a few people greet me as they take their seats. Just as the bell is about to ring, one last student walks in, holding a leather jacket and motorcycle helmet in his arms.

Without the helmet and jacket, I can see the mystery guy a bit more. He looks to be about five foot eleven with a very lean body, judging by the biceps I can see in the sleeves of his black t-shirt. His hair matches the jet black of his motorcycle and his chin has a small bit of stubble on it.

His jawline is very defined and his face is incredibly handsome, not a zit or freckle to it. But what draws me in are the dark blue eyes I saw out in the parking lot. They look like deep pools of ice cold water. Looking at them again causes me heart to skip another beat.

The kid walks over to the seating chart and looks back to the room when he's done looking at it. His gaze stops all of a sudden, on me, and he looks at me with those blue eyes of his. He walks down the aisle and stops, right at the table I'm sitting at. He drapes his jacket across the back of his chair and sets down his bag and helmet and takes a seat.

This is normally the time he'd introduce himself or something, but he just stares ahead at the board, not even glancing at me. The bell rings and we all quickly go through the Pledge of Allegiance and sit back down.

Mr. Creswell finishes writing on the board and looks to us. "Good morning, everyone. I'm Mr. Creswell, your AP Biology teacher."

Yeah, we know. Your name and what class this is is on the fucking door...

"I'm going to say it right now," Creswell continues. "This class is going to be incredibly difficult. You're going to have homework almost every night and the workload will be heavy. The tests and quizzes in here are quite challenging and the project we will do later in the year will make you want to kill yourself. But if you remain focused and work hard, I'm sure we can make this year a nice one for all of you."

Huh. Creswell doesn't sound like an asshole. Then again, Ryan does have a tendency to exaggerate the truth and thought all of his teachers were assholes. "Now, take a look to the person sitting next to you," says Creswell. I look to the kid and he looks to me. "That boy or girl will be your seat partner for the rest of the quarter. Take the first five minutes of class to get to know them better while I hand out the syllabus."

The discussions start around us, but the kid and I stay silent. Creswell walks up to our table and sets down two pieces of paper. "Boys, I don't think you can know someone without talking to them."

The kid glances back to Creswell. "We're communicating by thought," he says in a deep voice. "I'm pretty sure I have the basic lowdown on this guy."

"Well, what can you say about him?" asks Creswell.

The kid looks back to me and crosses his arms. "He's probably from an upper-middle class family with a mother in either real estate or law and a father who's either in business or medicine. Judging by his body, he definitely does a sport, likely football. He probably has a part-time job working with wood and tools, because of the calluses on his hands and fingers.

"He looks like a smart guy, probably having straight A's throughout his high school life, and looks like he plays an instrument. My guess would be the guitar because of the calluses on the tips of his fingers. He looks like he has a fair amount of good friends that are willing to help him and is a decent and nice guy." He looks back to me. "Did I get anything wrong?"

What. The. Fuck. He got every detail about my life right! "How the hell did you know all that?" I ask.

He casually shrugs. "I understand people. I can tell who they are and what they do just by looking at them. Your name probably starts with a J as well."

Okay, now that's just fucking creepy. "Y-Yeah. My name's Josh Rusden."

The kid extends his hand to me. "Leo. Leo Trigon."

I shake his hand with a firm grip, which he returns with a smile, showing perfect white teeth. With the eyes and the smile, my heart skips a third beat. "Are you Ryan's younger brother?" Creswell asks me.

"You remember Ryan?"

"I do. He was a smart boy, but often liked to bend the truth a bit. I don't think he had a very good opinion of me."

You think right...

"You two keep getting to know each other."

Creswell continues down the aisle, handing out papers, and Leo and I go back to our silence. "Well...since you know about me," I say. "Tell me about you."

"Hmmm...there isn't much to tell. I just turned eighteen, my family is middle class, and because of a job transfer, my family had to move here from Maryland at the beginning of the summer."

"Wow, that far?"

"I don't really mind, but I do miss my friends. At least the people here are friendly and welcoming. I just hope the kids here aren't assholes."

Leo lifts his arms above his head and stretches a bit. I see the base of his shirt lift up revealing his stomach. All I see are perfectly sculpted abs. My heart skips the beat that I've come to expect, but I feel something else. Something down below. What the fuck?!

I'm getting a freaking hard-on from looking at Leo! I've never gotten a boner from looking at another student at school! So...why Leo? Who I first saw less than fifteen minutes ago? Leo's arms come back down and he looks to me and my reddening face. "You okay?" he asks. "You look a bit red."

'Y-Yeah, I think it might be allergies. Pollen and all."

He nods understandingly. I'm not even allergic to pollen, but it was all I could think of to explain my face and the iron rod in my pants that won't go away. "So what's this school like?" Leo asks.

"Huh? Oh...it's pretty nice. We have a zero tolerance policy for bullying, but it doesn't really happen here very often. The teachers are hands on and are always there to help you, even the ones that might seem a bit mean. Stay away from the cafeteria, though. I don't know what they do in there, but I'm not risking going in there after two years ago."

"What happened?"

"Massive food poisoning epidemic. Almost five hundred kids got sick because of a bad batch of undercooked meat. It wasn't pretty. People had to run outside to try and puke and a lot of them didn't even make it outside the classroom. I can still smell it to this day."

Leo laughs at thinking of the horror I saw that day. It's a deep laugh that's pretty infectious and it causes me to laugh as well. Creswell claps his hands and we look back to the front of the class. "Okay, now that you've gotten to know your partner, let's go over the syllabus."

We look to the papers in front of us but I can't focus on it. I spend the rest of the first class of my senior year with my eight inch dick as hard as a rock.