Sam Dorsey and His Sixteen Candles by Perie Wolford

Sam Dorsey and His Sixteen Candles by Perie Wolford

Author:Perie Wolford
Language: rus
Format: mobi
Published: 2015-05-25T08:39:24.806268+00:00


***

After a quick pre-game practice the boys hit the showers and quickly file out until Mitch and I are the only ones left in the locker room. He takes his time in the shower while I muse over ways to sneak off and see Jake without him knowing. Mitch and I are expected to report to detention right after practice, and I can’t exactly ditch him for that. We’re supposed to go together.

Mitch emerges from the showers with a tiny towel wrapped around his waist, and let me just say, the view in real life makes the one in my dreams look positively tame.

“Just give me a minute to get dressed and then we’ll go, okay?” he says, brightly as he’s applying deodorant.

“Sure,” I say, trying not to stare. He looks so good. I really am trying not to think about him that way, but it’s hard. I mean, I am a teenage boy. I have hormones raging and stuff.

“You were pretty good today. You’re getting better,” Mitch says, referring to my participation in today’s practice. I smile at the memory. Feeling lenient and not wanting to overwork the team before the big game, the coach let me take part in a few of the drills, and, surprise, I actually kinda liked it. What I didn’t like was the way Mitch was forcing me to play keep-away with Jake.

“Thanks,” I mutter. I’m still trying not to stare at him. Well, maybe I could stare just from the corner of my eye so he wouldn’t notice…

“Do you want me to talk to coach about getting you on the team?” Mitch asks and, before I am even able to register the thought, he takes his towel off.

His naked body is perfect. Even better than my subconscious mind predicted, and trust me, I have a good imagination. I am just incapable of not looking at it. I mean at him. I am a drooling idiot.

“Sam?” he glances back at me. I turn away as fast as possible. God! I think he noticed.

“W-what?” I stutter.

“Do you want to be on the team?”

“I don’t know. I mean, maybe. I’m not sure,” I ramble. He smiles at that.

“Okay. But you are good at this. You should think about joining.”

He steps into his boxers, and then his jeans and pulls a T-shirt over his head. I’m a little disappointed to see him decked out in his usual baggy ensemble, but I’m also relieved. It gives me an opportunity to calm myself down, both mentally and physically.

“Sure.”

“Okay, I’m almost done.”

A pinch-faced, brownnoser of a freshman walks in.

“Mitch Blake?” He asks, looking both of us over distastefully.

“That’s me,” Mitch says.

“Principal Anderson is expecting you in her office, now!” He scurries away.

“Okay…” Mitch replies, eyebrows furrowed. “I wonder what that’s all about.” He glances over at me. “You coming?”

“I’ll be right behind you. I just need to take care of the towels,” I say automatically. I don’t know where the lie came from, but it fits perfectly.

“Okay, see you in a bit then.



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