Foul Play

A/N: Okay, it’s short. It’s only a prologue. I want to see how it’s received before I write anymore! Not to mention, I needed to write something! I haven’t for so long, and it’s literally becoming painful to think up any words.

Apologies in advanced for any awkward structure, grammatical errors and unoriginal word choice. I’m completely rusty, and it’s been a while since I’ve read anything that hasn’t been for school!

But, all that aside: Enjoy!

Prologue: Foul Play

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I fucking HATE being a damn romantic.

It was all well and good in seventh grade when I went through my poetry phase, but now it’s just shit.

I mean, believing in love and the concept of soul-mates is really just a way to screw with your mind. To make you hope, wish and plead for that one incredibly perfect person to dazzle you, and make things all right. See? When you write it down on paper, it seems unrealistic. Love will always be unrequited, at least in my case.

That’s right. I’ve gone from romantic to cynic in just a little over a day. The reason? A fuck up named Quin Olsen. Why?

Because he managed to freaking dazzle me.

The jerk off.

x.x.x.x

“Honours English? Dude, you’re gonna die.” Alec was one of those average kids. He slinked by with Bs, an occasional A, and maybe a C, but he did all right. He was happy to kick around a soccer ball in phys. ed though wasn’t particularly athletic, and he was just fine with getting his hands dirty with clay for his fine arts credits.

But I was totally different. We met by chance, the summer before tenth grade, our freshman year. I took summer school to get ahead, finish a course so I could free up space in my schedule for second year biology, Alec took summer school because he needed to upgrade his physics mark.

“Hey, Quin?” I looked over to Alec, tossing my freshly printed schedule into my locker and slamming it shut. He chose to keep his in his back pocket, not obsessive enough to have it memorized on the first morning of classes like I was.

“Hm?” I had a bad habit of being slightly apathetic toward anything that wasn’t a requirement for a scholarship.

“What do you think of my hair?”

I frowned. Hair? Really? “Umm...” Not exactly knowing how to answer, I finally looked away from my summer reading list (triple checking I had completed it all) to actually take a proper look at him. I was a little surprised. “It’s green.”

Alec ran a hand through his brown hair self consciously. His fingers threaded through some of the green highlights carefully, as if he could see what they looked like by a mere touch. “Obviously,” he sighed. I could tell he was disappointed by my answer, but just continued walking awkwardly at his side.

That’s one of my many social problems. I’m horrible with interaction in general – I mean, throw me in front of three hundred people and ask me to give a speech on the advancement of botany, and I could do it in one breath. Shove me into a room of a handful of teens talking about their weekends, and I was tongue tied.

“I like it.” I managed, and it was genuine. Alec could pull off hair like that. He could come to school wearing a sweater vest one day, and then pull a three sixty by the next, moulding into the gothic and prep trends flawlessly.

Myself? A polo and a pair of jeans concluded my creativity.

“Yeah?” Alec brightened, straightening up a little. “Dad hates it.” He shrugged, slinging an arm around my shoulder and walking toward English with me.

I’m positive our relationship is what it is primarily due to the time we’ve spent together. Three years of high school. I mean, we’d be graduating in June together, and that was a milestone. Not to say there aren’t other factors as well, even if they are a bit one sided. For instance...

I’m the only one that knows Alec Freedman is gay. In the entire universe, on the surface of every star, moon and planet, I, Quin Olsen, am the sole individual that knows Alec’s secret.

But here’s the catch:

He’s clueless to the small, tiny detail that I know.

x.x.x.x