Dirty Little Secret

Thanks audrii and Necromancer10 for your reviews :3

And maybe I present....
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Dirty Little Secret: Chapter Two


I crept into school Monday morning, avoiding my friends. I wanted to put off having to answer the dreaded question for as long as I could. I went upstairs to my locker. As I was shuffling books in and out of the dingy metal box, a body slammed into the lockerbank not far from me.

"Dude, you gotta tell me what you did this weekend," Bobby Earles demanded. He was what I'd consider my best friend. If I told anyone, I'd tell him. And yet...

"I didn't do jack shit," I said, trying to act natural. "What are you talking about?"

"You called me on Friday, I don't believe that you wouldn't do anything once you got the idea."

I shrugged. "Hey, I figured I should study. I wanna go to college, I should try to do better in school."

Bobby just stared at me. I can't blame him. Since we'd met in 5th grade I hadn't ever cared about grades. He knew about all the times I'd narrowly missed failing classes and even grades. I just couldn't tell him. Although the incident was innocent enough and wasn't any big deal, it still almost felt like a secret. I kinda liked that, having my own private insight about the most desirable and elusive teacher in school.

"Hey, I'm just joking! Dave was home and he wouldn't let me go out. So I just played some Wii and watched TV. There was a South Park marathon."

"Agh, I missed it! No way!"

I laughed and headed off to my first hour, English. As the teacher told us how much our papers sucked without giving us an useful tips, I let my mind wonder.

This was Mr. Jameson's second year teaching at Sacred Blood High School. Just about every female student has a crush on him. Hell, I'm sure a couple of male students did too, present company included. And why not? He was in his early twenties, single as far as we knew, and attractive. Like I already said, he has blond hair and grey eyes. Normally he wore baggy trousers and dress shirts but the tight clothes from Friday revealed a slim, toned body. I smiled thinking about how different he has appeared. His sex appeal then has been on purpose, not the result of overactive, sexually repressed/oppressed imaginations. But deep down, he had still acted the same: Aloof and a little grouchy. Some of my friends said they were afraid of him but I'd never understood why. As long as you didn't do anything stupid in his presense, he treated you fairly.

Just then, a folded up note hit my elbow. I glanced around. A blonde girl two seats back and two rows over smiled brilliantly at me. Ah. I unfolded her note.

'Hey Shay!

My dad said I could invite some of my friends up to the ski lodge for a Christmas party. You're invited! Call me with your answer.

Kisses, Jessie!'

I crumpled the note with a quiet laugh. She'd been trying to get me to go out with her since freshman year. I had to admire her tenacity but I had a strict policy against sleeping with girls from my own high school. 'Cause then you actually saw them later and they thought you wanted commitment. I know, isn't it terrifying? A party would be fun but I knew what would happen there. It was always the same. The first 30 minutes, Jessie would simply flirt harmlessly with me. Then, once she was boozed up enough, she started getting touchy. Unsolicited touching is a cardinal sin with me. Somehow her drunken mind translated that as me wanting to skip right to the good/nasty stuff. I would spend the rest of the night dodging her and making sure I didn't stray too close to any darkened bedrooms. (She fancies herself too classy to fuck somewhere like a bathtub or up against a clothes dryer.) Uh, no thanks.

My morning continued in the same, boring manner as it always did: I struggled to stay awake through review sessions in English, Statistics, Latin, and Advanced Chemisty. Sure, they were all the classes I struggled the most in but there's one thing that teenagers need more than sex: Sleep. (Oxygen comes in a distant third.) Droning lecture and total uncomprehension has a powerful soporific effect. By fifth period I had snoozed enough to actually function. Which was good since fifth period was choir-- with Mr. Jameson.

I tripped into the room and took a seat in the far end of the second row of chairs, the tenors' usual spot. Oddly, I was the first person in the room. I looked around, wondering whether the next arrival would be student or teacher. I heard the door open. I buried my head in my black choir binder, pretending to be engrossed in my music. Footsteps.

"Hey Shay."

I glanced up and gave Alicia, an alto, a cocky grin.

Another door opened, this time from Mr. Jameson's office. The man himself stepped out. His expression wasn't exactly bored but more... politely disinterested. I openly stared as he walked over to the piano.

"Oh my god, Mr. Jameson. Where'd you get your clothes and who told you those shades of green go together?" Alicia asked with a laugh.

'Kohls,' I thought, then immediately felt weird for recognizing the shirt-tie combo. It wasn't anything weird, really. I'd been to the store the week before and had had similar sentiments.

Other kids filed in and class began. I made it through warmups and half of Pat-a-Pan before my thoughts wandered.

It started because Mr. Jameson ran a hand over his gelled back hair while explaining phrasing to the sopranos (again). His hair had looked so downy... I wondered what it felt like... And speaking of feeling, were his hands as soft as they looked? Or were there calluses on those long fingers, unseen but there? And speaking of there, was he a boxers or briefs kind of guy? Or thongs or commando? And speaking of commando, how'd he look under those clothes? My guess was buff, tan, and really good.

"Shay!"

I jumped guiltily.

"That's the third time you've missed the tenors' entrance," Mr. Jameson said sharply. (Er, how long had I been daydreaming about him naked?) "See me after class."

Cheer because I got some precious one-on-one time with him, even if I was being punished. Groan because I'd miss the beginning of lunch. It's a critical time; if you don't grab something good right away, you get stuck with leftovers from last time they served lunch (two days ago!) or rubbery "hamburgers".

For the next thirty minutes my mind was completely focused on the black-dotted pages. At long last the bell rang and everyone else rushed out. I flipped my binder shut and slowly headed for his office. Once inside, he shut the door.

"I understand that it's finals so you don't want to spend more brain power than you have to. But I can't allow you to zone out in class; the others look to you and follow your example."

I stared, open mouthed. That was all? It was so... mundane. Not at all what I thought he was going to say. He sighed quietly and leaned back in his chair.

"Look, Shay. I'd appreciate if you'd limit the number of people you tell about Friday. It may not be a big deal to you but I could get in a lot of trouble. If the administration found out that I knew about a student drinking and didn't notify them immediately--"

"I haven't told anyone. I won't tell anyone."

This seemed to genuinely throw him for a lopp. I felt a little bad that the thought of me not blabbing shocked him. What else had he assumed about me?

"I mean, there's that but also... I kinda like being the only one who knows you're a closet rocker. I like secrets more than gossip."

He chuckled. "Of course." His gaze became unfocused for a moment, then, "You can go now Shay."

I got up and, hand on the doorknob, turned.

"Mr. Jameson, will you tell me next time you play somewhere. I swear I'll be more careful about the booze. I was really impressed, ya know?"

He gave me an appraising look. "...Same time, same place, this Friday."

"It's a date," I said without thinking.

"Yeah," he said with a smile.


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I know it's slow and I apologize. Pacing is really something I need to work on. ^^;

Again, thanks for reading! More soon, I promise. Cause I've already got five chapter written :P