The Bountiful Bouts of Bixby
Bixby Ballentine is doing fine, so when that pesky thing called love butts its head into his perfectly satisfactory combative relationship with the ginormous, yet admittedly gorgeous, annoyance that is Darius Dickerson, he is forced to face some seriously life changing challenges.
University student Bixby Ballentine has his own personal botheration in the six foot plus, stupidly muscled, and even more stupidly handsome, Darius Dickerson. Bixby isn't tall, or brawny, and spends long hours studying, so he often forgets to eat, or get enough sleep, or whatever. Just because he started university at sixteen doesn't give Darius the right to treat him like a naive kid with several twit-like tendencies.
Now that Bixby is done school, however, he figures he can enjoy himself at his upcoming twentieth birthday party. That is, until Darius says he'll be attending. Bixby is certain he can avoid Darius' critical eye, however things don't go as planned, and his relationship with Darius turns in a direction he'd never dared dream. Well he'd dared, he'd just not foreseen how the requital of his feelings would result in new challenges with Darius, both toilsome and edifying.
I thought Bob was my friend. I thought after four years at university together, I knew the guy. I was wrong. He had lulled me into a false sense of security with his reading to the elderly, training assistance dogs, and knitting sweaters, booties, and blankets for the orphaned and abandoned kitties and puppies at the animal shelter. I never thought he would abandon me to the clutches of my nemesis, laughing as he left, finding mirth in my misfortune. He was so uninvited to my birthday party.
How could I have gone from the ecstasy of completing my last final exam to the misery of suffering the betrayal of one I thought an ally? This blew. Give me my euphoria back now! But, maybe my opponent could as yet be avoided. Or, he could be attacked by bees. There was never a swarm when you needed them.
Why me? Why now?
Those two questions were actually rhetorical because I knew my good mood could not have lasted in any event. It never did. That was why I had to grab whatever moments of happiness I could, and hold them tight until they were ripped away by Darius Dickerson, otherwise known as "Darius the Dick." I generally kept his apt nickname to myself, although I may have let it slip to some of my friends when I went on a particularly long rant about Darius' aggravating behavior. Most people found him charming. People like back stabber Bob, who, as he left, told me to have fun. I couldn't believe that despite the obvious irksomeness of my adversary, Bob gave me nary a whit of sympathy. Oh, I'd still drive him to the hospital to do that puppet show for the sick children, but there was no way we were going to stop for ice cream afterwards.
But back to the more pressing issue. I decided my best course of action was to ignore Darius, and while this had never worked in the past, I was ever hopeful this would be the first time it did. Of course, I was doomed to fail.
"I know you hear me, Bixby, so you may as well stop. If you want me to get louder, so everyone in the quad can hear me call your name, I'm fine with that too."
This was no idle threat. The bastard had done it before, and he knew how much I hated drawing unwanted attention. He would be on me in a moment, so I used the grace period to formulate my reply.
"Darius?" The Dick part would be left unsaid except in my mind. "Is that you? I thought the noise was a flock of Glaucous-winged Gulls fighting over the remnants of a long abandoned poutine." In a slightly less, but only slightly, or really not less slightly at all, snarky tone, I would add, "What do you want?"
I knew he would come towards me in that fluid glide of his, which was completely uncalled for. A six foot four man, with a large frame and muscles to match, should not have been able to move that gracefully. But I was not bitter. I was a perfectly acceptable five eight and an eighth, and though I was only one hundred forty pounds, it was all muscle. Well, it was mostly muscle, and I had a small frame. The fact I could trip over a hairline crack in the sidewalk was beside the point. I guess I could admit I was a little bitter. Maybe bitterish.
While I had been talking to Bob after my exam, and before he had left me to face my arch foe all by my lonesome, I had thought that everything was coming up Bixby. It was all sunshine and rainbows and ponies from now on. I'd had a bounce in my step as I discussed my upcoming twentieth birthday party with Bob, and he had waxed on poetically about the Prussian blue wool he had ordered that would make a superb garter stitch scarf for a newly arrived short haired Chihuahua. My party was going to be phenomenal and noteworthy. The noteworthy part was really for me alone as I had plans: detailed and soon to be executed plans. I would require assistance to achieve my goal, but I had no doubt I would be able to find an accommodating and enthusiastic accomplice.
I was now free to complete my preparations which, as I had zero fashion sense, included going shopping with my best friend Scarlet Ashburn for an appropriately slutty outfit. My present style could be called "hobo chic," which being the industrious and dedicated student I was, suited my purposes. Money was not the issue. I was fortunate to have hard working and generous parents. It was the lack of time, energy, and inclination which kept me in my comfortable and scruffy state. That would change tonight. I was going all out. I was going to snag a good looking guy friend, and we were going to do it till dawn.
I had acquired many friends over my four years at Pacific Northwest University and had even gone out with some of them. Unfortunately, it always became clear after a few dates, that while we each thought the other was a great guy, we mutually agreed we were better off as friends. These friends often found other guys whom they did have a connection with, and they usually joined the group as well. It was nice to know if I felt like going out, I could easily round up a bevy of folk to hang out with, and one of these guys, as long as he was single, would end up in my bed tonight. At least I hoped so.
Of course, I would rather have my first time be with someone I loved and who loved me. We would gaze into each other's eyes, and without saying a word, know each other's thoughts and dreams and what they wanted for lunch the next day. But since that particular fantasy was on hold until the right guy came along, I was going to do the deed with someone who I at least loved as a friend.
I had a list of potential candidates in mind. Guys were the worst gossips ever, and there was no shortage of comments on who was rather skilled in the bedroom. To my surprise, everyone I had invited had confirmed they were going to attend, so I had options. Lots and lots of options. I just hoped I could convince one of those options to fuck me. This train of thought naturally led me to daydream about how the night would go rather than concerning myself further with my inevitable chat with Darius. I tended to zone out a lot.
I would show up at my party all tarted up, and everyone's eyes would be on me. I would begin a conversation with Bob/Bill/Bryce (No, not Bob, forget Bob. Bob was now completely out of the running!), and we would decide to take a walk to get some fresh air. Kyle/Karl/Kacey, and I would talk over old times as I drifted closer, subtly making my intentions known. Sean/Sabin/Steven's lips would hover over mine, only stopping short to confirm this was what I wanted. I would quickly close the distance and...
But before I knew it, Darius was upon me, interrupting my musings, and the dick spoke before I could get out my sea bird and fast food laden retort.
"I'm looking forward to your birthday party this weekend." He had to lean over to talk to me. The jerk. His raven black hair was a little longer than usual, at just past his ears. I knew it would be buzzed again when he started his security assignments outside the university, but it seemed the grooming code here was a little more relaxed. His dark blue eyes sparkled as they bore into my light green ones. This was not good. Darius and sparkling eyes never boded well for me.
After he brushed my wheat blond braid over my shoulder, he put his mouth by my ear, and whispered, "I'm sure it will be memorable." I made a noise which sounded suspiciously like "eep," and then he was gone, laughing like a jackass, as his stupidly long legs ate up the ground.
Did he know what I was planning? No, no way, I hadn't told anyone. Could he tell by looking at me that I was so desperate to get laid, I was going to shamelessly present myself to my hoard of guy pals, and hope one of them would step up to the plate? Somehow I wouldn't put it past the fucker. After all, he had known me my entire life.