There he was, Rayne Phelps.
The god of Beavercreek High. All the girls wanted him, all the boys wanted to be him, and I wanted to be his. His hair was a unique cornflower yellow that few models possessed. His eyes—oh don't get me started on his eyes—such dazzling sapphire orbs that compelled the observer to forsake God, country, and soul. My friends told me I made too much of him, but being so low on the high school food chain of popularity, what is there left but dreams and hopeless aspirations?
Rayne sauntered down the hall totally oblivious to my guileless adulation completely immersed in horsing around with his best friend Christian. I would give my left nut to have Rayne's arms wrapped around my shoulders right now instead of Christian lapping up all his attention. His ass in those tight stonewashed jeans undulated left right left right before me the perfect march unparalleled by any high school band.
Christian Holt was Rayne's avenging angel and staunch supporter. The two had been inseparable since elementary school. Where Rayne was Christian was sure to be close, the two were like night and day. Where Rayne was not intentionally cruel to us peons, Christian seemed to take sadistic pleasure from torturing and maiming the less fortunate. It was rumored that he had put Carlos Rivera in a wheelchair for having sat with Rayne for lunch. Of course the unsubstantiated allegations were never confirmed by Carlos Rivera who was incidentally never a registered student at our school at anytime. I checked. Hey, a guy's got to look out for himself.
"Hey dumbass, are you listening to me or have you slipped into another Rayne induced coma?" Colin murmured nudging me gently in the ribs.
Colin Stolz was my best friend. At 6 foot even he towered over me and tended to be somewhat of a mother hen. He knew of my Rayne obsession, in fact everyone knew. Yes, including my mother. I figured if Colin was calling me a dumbass, my mouth must've fallen agape again. Dumb jaw!
"Huh? I was just wondering what the Roach had planned for trig, since the Nazis already stole her idea of gassing." I reply sure my sly smirk is appropriately carved into my ruggedly handsome face. Smooth save, E! The Roach otherwise known as Miss Roche was the most boring monotonous speaker ever. I believe Principle Hannibal fostered her on the unsuspecting student population as a form of maniacal torture. She made watching paint dry, a riveting experience.
"Yeah, don't I know it. Alrighty then, I think I got everything. Let's hit the road!" Colin said slinging his bag over one shoulder as he slammed his locker unnecessarily hard.
I flinched slightly falling into step beside him as we made our way down the hall. The final bell was just sounding as we took our usual seats in the back of the room. These seats were usually reserved for jocks, but with little to no jocks in Trigonometry first period, we got their seats. I preferred to sit in the back because this way I could sit and stare at Rayne all period long and no one would be the wiser.
The Roach began lessons as usual and I tuned her out as usual, idly doodling on my notebook. When the dismissal bell went off, I stopped all movement ceasing for a brief moment as the reason for my being in school at all came. Rayne stood with a quick gyration of slim hips allowing his beautiful ass to dance momentarily before my unwavering gaze. Ahh, these are the moments one lived for. Colin never really fazed by my rampant homosexuality calmly handed me a tissue to dry the drool off my face. Now there is a considerate friend.