Misconceptions: Chapter Two
#4 of Conceptions
A/N: Yay for kind-of fast upload. And, for once, I have nothing else to say here. Obligatory plea for comments.
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The rest of the day was boring as fuck, so I spent it thinking of ways to get into Zeke's pants. And maybe get him some new ones, because, god, I can't imagine what people would say if they knew I was horny for this ratty little shit.
The only issue was how. The only ways I could think of ended in him running away, me being dead in some back alley, or in us hundreds of miles away in my parents' jet. Um, no.
I was sitting in psych, watching Zeke out of the corner of my eye, when I heard him gasp, stop his tapping, glance at me, and start whimpering "fuck no" under his breath, while staring at his hand like he was willing the tapping to start again.
Huh?
While trying to think of an explanation, I was hit in the nose by a piece of paper. I grabbed it out of the hand of the person in front of me.
It was an assignment sheet, and I almost threw it in my black hole of a bag before I saw the writing. "A Day in the Life."
Oh. I read it. We were supposed to stay a weekend at the house of our partner, doing everything they do.
What the fuck? It's only the third fucking day of school and he's already fucking given us a big project!
"I know what most of you are thinking: what the fuck, it's only the third day of school and he's already fucking assigning us a major project? Damn it!" The cussing seemed to come naturally to the teacher. The old lion smirked at the class. "Though I'm sure there may be more or less cussing, depending. And to answer your question: no. This is not a major project; this is the major project. It is worth approximately a quarter of your grade."
"But why? Why now? Believe it or not, it's for you. I could give you the project at the end of the semester. Along with every other teacher who assigns their major thing in the last few weeks of school. This gives you time to do this, without stressing over those other things. And this project is a great lead-in to applied psychology." As a group, our faces must have been hilarious, because he laughed. "And I am never disappointed by your faces." He paused for a moment to look at the clock on the wall in the back of the room.
"At this point, you have about an hour left of class. Most of the instructions are on the handout, but if you have any questions, come ask me. I'll pretend to be busy and hassled when you come up. Begin!" The teacher concluded his speech with a small flourish of his hand.
Chairs scraped across the ground as other students shifted the room to gather in groups. I stared at Zeke's face, and he stared off to my right. Neither of us moved for a long moment before something akin to resignation flashed across his face.
"I suppose we should go ahead and get this over with." I was surprised to see a pencil in his hand and a notebook on his desk. "I do not have a car, so you will have to take me to your house this weekend. Next weekend, I will take you to where I live. I do not think you will want to sleep there, so you may want to just stay moderately late, and arrive early in the morning. We can talk more about that next week."
I didn't expect him to take charge, or for him to have such authority in his voice, and it made me realise that I knew absolutely nothing about him. Not what he liked or how much money his family had or if he was even into guys. And so I asked the first question that popped into my mind and thank god it was relevant.
"Where do you live?"
He opened his mouth as if to answer, but cut himself off and frowned instead. He shook his head, made just the briefest eye contact with me (beautiful green eyes, sharp enough that if felt he was looking through me), shifted his gaze to my right, and answered, "Around."
I blinked. What a strange reaction. I mean, I didn't expect full on details, but most people at least will give what neighborhood they live in. He must have heard of me and didn't want to make me feel sorry for him. "I guess I'll find out next weekend, huh?" His smile was sad and something inside me ached.
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I was sitting in my room, tossing a ball between my hands, and thinking about Zeke. Normally, I wouldn't obsess so much about someone, but something about the fox drew me in. The biggest problem was that I had no idea what it was. I'm not a deep person. Most people who hold my attention are hot, plain and simple, and most only hold my attention long enough for me to stick my dick in them.
Zeke was-- odd, I guess is the best term. He was attractive and I got the feeling that he didn't speak much, which is odd for attractive people. He had a presence about him that made me feel every word was important.
It doesn't matter, I guess. I was drawn to the fox, for whatever reason and the fox was coming over this weekend. I'd have to talk to McRoy about getting some things set up.
Someone knocked on my door. I sighed and got up to open it. I thought the maids knew that they couldn't clean my room when my door was closed?
I opened the door, and instead of a maid, there stood McRoy.
"Ah, good, just the person I was wanting to see!"
I took him by surprise, because he stepped back. "Sir?"
"Someone is coming over this weekend to work on a project for psych class. I need the guest bedroom next to mine to be cleaned and furnished and for you to tell the cooks to prepare my meals for two. I also need for you to prep a car and chauffeur. Something with plenty of trunk space. We're going shopping." I'd been thinking of this for a while. I was rich, he obviously wasn't. He needed new clothes, I could afford them. If he objects, I'll just say it's money better spent on him, than on more new clothes for me.
"This person. Does she, or he I suppose, happen to be marrying you?"
I was aghast after I mentally shook away pictures of our wedding. Zeke'd look good in a tux. That was odd. Never had any thoughts like that before. "No!"
I swear to god McRoy smiled, for a moment. "I'll put the jeweler on retainer, then. Oh, and I came to tell you your parents are coming home this weekend." And he was gone, out of the door so fast that by the time I had picked out the ring (silver and black diamond), I couldn't tell him to fuck off.
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I didn't know what was wrong with me. If love at first sight weren't utter bullshit, I'd almost call this feeling that. We've barely spoken ten sentences to each other, and I already have rings picked out (and plans to elope in New York if gay rights here go sour).
My next best guess is some junior-high school-girl crush-thing. I did kind of skip over that phase; I was too busy sticking my dick in things to bother with crushes. And now maybe it all hit me full force for this one guy that I knew nothing about.
And maybe that was it. The only thing I knew about him was where he lived: "around." And maybe my mind filled in gaps that made me pity him. And all this emotion in the base of my chest is just overwhelming pity.
But oh my god, that smile. Such a sad smile, made all the more sad by green eyes that wouldn't look at you. Eyes that, for the briefest moment, had stared into my soul, dissected it, and put it back together all wrong.