Blonde Bimbo
The school day passed by uneventfully. Barty was trudging on from class to class, his only motivation being that he would get to see Evan at the end of the day. No one else could understand the bond that Barty and Evan had. Evan was his best friend. His best friend since they were 10. Only his.
But these days, it seemed like Layla was hanging around more often. She and Evan had been dating since they were all in their Sophomore year, but over the summer she had gotten more clingy. Like she thinks she owns Evan or something. In Barty’s opinion, she wasn’t that great. She wasn’t intelligent like Evan was, in fact her only redeeming quality was her looks with her voluminous blonde hair and her bouncing big tits. Evan was constantly enamored with her.
The end of the day came at last, and Barty was sat in the courtyard waiting for Evan. When the boy of his interest walked out arm-in-arm with his girlfriend, Barty considered just leaving and going home. But then he heard, “I told my friends I would hangout with them after school.”
“Oh ok. I’ll just see you tomorrow then.” Evan said in reply.
Evan walked over to where Barty was sitting on a bench and plopped down next to him. “How was your day?” To anyone else it would’ve seemed like a normal enough question, a formality if you will. But to Barty, who spent his whole day obsessing over Evan, the question held more weight than the other boy could possibly ever know.
“It was fine. Normal.”
“Good. Layla went off with her friends so I thought maybe we could go somewhere just the two of us. It’s probably one of the last warm weather days we’ll have in a while. Wanna go to the beach?”
The beach in question was in fact just a bunch of sand surrounding Lake Michigan. But Barty wanted so badly just to be with Evan that he agreed and when they got to their ‘beach’ it was, to Barty’s dismay, quite pleasant. There were many others that seemed to have had the same idea and were soaking up the sun while it was still there to offer its warmth. The two boys sat at the edge of the beach staring at the water and the people splashing about in it.
Evan reached into his pocket and took out a pack of menthols. He offered one to Barty who took it without protest and then took one for himself. Evan cupped Barty’s face in his hand while he used the other to light the cigarette hanging from his mouth before lighting his own by pressing it against the one he just lit. Barty’s breath hitched at the intimacy of the gesture. He couldn’t help himself as he turned his head to look at his friend after he leaned back onto his arms and blew out smoke. Evan looked so graceful, almost…beautiful? No. That couldn’t be right. Evan was a boy. And his best friend. This wasn’t okay at all. Barty had to break it, the silence. It was killing him.
“So how’s it going with you and Layla?” Layla was the last person Barty wanted to hear about, but right now, he just needed a distraction from his traitorous mind.
Barty hated the way that Evan’s face lit up at the mention of her. “I think I love her.”
“Oh” He could feel his heart drop down to his stomach. “Have you told her?”
“No. Not yet at least.”
“Are you sure you love her?”
“What do you mean?”
“I just mean that I thought you were only having a bit of fun with her.”
“She’s my girlfriend.”
“I know, but she doesn’t seem like anything special. You deserve someone better than just some blonde bimbo.”
Barty had kept his feelings about Layla to himself for so long but Evan telling him that he was in love was his final straw. Evan, however, was not pleased with Barty’s unsolicited advice and before he was able to get in another word Evan had swung his arm swiftly.
Evan was walking away.
Barty returned home and locked himself in his room. Of course he had to fuck everything up. Of course he couldn’t just keep his feelings to himself. Of course he couldn’t just appreciate the time he was spending with Evan for what it was.
Barty stole a half-empty bottle of whiskey from his Father’s study, and drank it until it was completely empty. Barty didn’t show up at school the next day. Or the next. Or the next, until suddenly the week was over already. His parents didn’t notice his absences at all.