You Are Not Unlovable: Jock Oneshot
“Am I worth loving? Am I really?”
The question popped into my head, my boredom must have driven it up there. Hey, it’s something to do, and I’m running out of space on my doodle page. The professor just keeps going on and on with his pointless lecture about gender studies, and I’m really starting to wonder why I took this class in the first place.
Either way, I looked down at the scrap paper. Most of it was incoherent scribbling, and if that nerdling taught me anything as an English tutor, then this is the most symbolic thing I have ever seen.
Back to the question, “Am I lovable?” I guarantee a bunch of you would answer “Yes, definitely”, or “I don’t know, I don’t think that’s my area to judge”, or if you’re that one guy “Hell no, you aren’t. What made you think you were?” and to that I say, you’re wrong, but not exactly right either.
It’s a biased question. Everyone would have a different opinion to whether I deserve love or not, based on whatever previous experiences I had with them. I don’t blame them for that, honestly. My eyes start to wander across the classroom, stopping at every other person, and I can guess almost immediately how they feel about the subject.
Take Lightning for example. He hates my guts, like, it’s been almost two years and he hasn’t let go of the stupid grudge he has with me. We never exactly ‘got along’, especially since he thought I was a guy for most of our existence together, and his ignorance is too damn irritating at times. He’s obnoxious, egocentric and his head is emptier than that Lindsey girl’s, which is saying something. People always wondered how I got along with him so well, and really, I don’t know either. I can assume he’d be against me receiving any kind of affection, and would probably take lengths to pity the fool who tried.
Then, Cameron. Surprisingly enough, he isn’t mad at me for anything, even though I was a huge jerk … okay, I am a huge jerk. He’s actually the closest thing I have to a friend right now, and we seem to be getting along fairly well. He’s been really patient with me, and I am almost certain the brainiac’s performing some kind of observation with my behavior or whatnot. Regardless, he’s cool with me, so I’m pretty sure he’d be indifferent.
Scanning the rest of the students, I can’t really explain most of them because I don’t need to. Red and Pointy would be neutral, Preppy chick Courtney would be against. Dawn would be for it, probably on some aura nonsense, and Farmboy would be against it. Gothy, in the middle, Delinquent, same as Gothy.
I can read most of these guys pretty damn well if I do say so myself, and normally I would be satisfied. Most of these guys know I’m not a fan of theirs, and therefore they stay away. But … I don’t get why he doesn’t, even though he’s probably my main target.
He’s sitting right behind me, and it’d probably look suspicious as hell to face him in the middle of Professor Pointless’s talk. Even though literally everyone else is talking in groups, I’d end up getting the blame the one time I turn around and ask a question, like every other time. Do the teachers think I’m antisocial or something? Is that why they make a huge deal of me talking to other people?
Damn it, Jo, get back on topic. I get back to blankly jotting down notes with way too much self-loathing commentary, and I start listing things. I’m rude to him on a daily basis, we turn almost everything into a competition of some sort, half of the teachers hate us for it. I always catch him smiling at me with this huge grin, and he seems to actually like being around me, even with my overconfident facade. I just don’t get it.
“McArthur! Stop staring at Jo and pay attention!” What did he just say? Did I hear that right? A bunch of kids start to giggle like a bunch of sugar-rushed toddlers, and I could feel my cheek warm up a bit from embarrassment or anger, I didn’t know for sure.
In a sudden rush of energy, I called him out, “Hey man, he’s sitting right behind me. It probably wasn’t his fault, maybe he couldn’t see. Don’t assume that crap.” The accompanying laugh track stopped almost immediately, and now everyone was baring their eyes onto me. Needless to say, I was uncomfortable.
With my face thankfully returning to its normal hue, I shoved my desk over a bit, the legs creaking against the tiled floor, then I kept writing. The professor shrugged it off, good move for his part, and continued his lesson. I can hear the army boy fidgeting in his seat, and I realized everyone’s looking at him too. What idiots … what would bring them to make fun of him? He’s done literally nothing wrong. Then, it hit me.
The revelation was enough to push me to scribble a note for him on a small scrap of paper. I raised my hand, signaling to the teacher to use the washroom and he nodded, shooing me off with his hand. Probably relieved to have me out of the classroom. I grabbed my phone, covered my notes, and squirmed out of my seat.
Being stealthy enough for no one but him to notice, I quietly slapped the slip of paper on his desk and poked his shoulder. We made eye contact, and I swear I saw his face light up. I pointed to the page and left the room.
The halls were pretty much deserted, which was … weird. You would think that there would be a lot more truants out here. The silence was nice though, I always liked the solitude. Fewer people to get on my nerves with every step they take. My running shoes clunking as I walk outside, the midday sun making its grand entrance right into my eyes. Cringing slightly, I start towards the meeting point, and I wait.
After a few minutes, I check my phone. 11:44, he should be here soon. And when I glanced back up from the screen, I proved to be totally right. There he was, running over to my place against the fence, bending over his knees and panting lightly. The sun caught in his raven hair, he stared up at me while I locked my powder blue eyes with his strong dark eyes. “You made it.” I said, and he gave me one of his goofy smiles.
“Of course. I’m grateful for the excuse to get out of there,” he responded, the relief in his voice smoothing it out, and it sent a small shiver through my body. His movements, the shaking, that all made sense now. “I feel you there.” I pat him on the head playfully, plopping down next to him onto the grass.
“So, why did you want me out here, if I may ask.” The question took me by surprise, and my face felt flushed. He saw this, and started freaking out, “Ma'am, calm down. Are you alright?” I started shaking, and he firmly grabbed my shoulders to hold me still. My gaze went distant for a moment, and I took a deep breath. “Brick, do I deserve love?”
There was silence. I know that was not what he expected to hear, and I’m pretty sure he’s as confused as I am. He’s as red as I am now, and it’s a bit too awkward for my liking. For my benefit, he manned up and broke the silence, “You definitely weren’t paying attention, were you?"
I laughed dryly, "That class was pointless, there’s no way I would.” It was his turn to laugh, and I started feeling fuzzy. He collected himself, looked me straight in the eye, and gave it to me straight. “Well, I can guarantee a bunch of people will tell you different things, since you have so many relationships with others of all kinds, but I can tell you this.” His grip on my shoulders tightened, his breaths getting heavier. “I think you do … and I want to be the one to give it to you.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I start giggling profusely, and pretty sure I made him feel bad. Brushing my hand against his chest, I full on smiled at him, “You are so cheesy, Brickhouse.” His face still fully steaming, he lifted my chin up and kissed me.
To put it lightly, I was stunned. My heart was racing faster than it ever had, and holy shit I felt like I was dying, but if I died right now, I’d be totally alright with it. I could feel my arms relax, and everything felt … right.
When we separated, I held the back of my hand against his cheek, and watched his face movements as he realized what he just did. “Okay, I’ll give you that one.” “What, really?” “Yeah, you did good, Cadet.” I postured back up, using the ground to stabilize myself, and I held my hand down to help him up. Our rough palms gripped together, and I pulled him into me.
After a bit of awkwardness, I pecked his cheek and gave him a light punch on the arm. “Thanks for the answer,” I told him, and he nodded curtly. I tucked the hair back behind my ears, and tugged him toward the door, “Come on, we still need to grab our stuff from class.” “Do we have to?”
I stared at him, shocked, “Since when did you want to break the rules?” He cocked an eyebrow at me, and smirked, which I can say I was not used to. “Since when did you want to follow them to a tee?” I chuckled under my breath, tugging his arm and bringing his face inches away from mine, "You make a good point.“ Pulling us together again, I figured out the answer I was looking for.
That, no, I am not unlovable.