To piss off my rival, I started calling him "hubby" like one of his obsessive fangirls. On the basketball court, I’d yell with everything I had: "You're so hot, hubby! You're the best!" The result? He pinned me against a wall, kissing me hard before pulling back just enough to ask. "So, tell me more. How amazing is your hubby?" Wait, what? I thought he was homophobic?! 1 That morning, the driver had just brought the car to a smooth stop when I saw Justin’s silhouette flash past the window. Just a kid in a school uniform, his back lean and proud as he bent slightly to lock up his bicycle. I scrambled out of the car and chased him down, slapping him right on the ass. He shot upright, the look in his eyes promising murder. I danced a few steps back, a shit-eating grin on my face. "Damn, Justin, you've got a great ass! Feels good!" I taunted. "Why are you glaring at me like that? Want to feel mine in return?" I even stuck my own ass out for emphasis. Justin stared at me for two solid seconds, his face a stony mask. He said nothing, just finished locking his bike, walked around me, and disappeared through the school gates. Perfect. He was pissed. That meant I was happy. A beautiful day starts with getting under Justin’s skin. 2 I didn't always want to be this way with Justin, but the guy just didn't know what was good for him. He transferred to our school near the end of junior year. A transfer student at that time of year, combined with his striking looks, caused a massive stir among the girls in our grade. I didn't pay him much attention at first. He was just another face in the classroom. Until one day, my driver was taking me to school when it started pouring rain. The car broke down halfway there. I tried calling for an Uber, but no one was accepting rides. Just then, Justin pulled up beside me on his beat-up old bicycle. "Hey, you're going to be late," he said. "I can give you a ride." It was the first time in my seventeen years of life that I'd ever ridden on the back of a bicycle. That hard metal rack was pure agony on my ass. When we got to school, I dropped a hundred-dollar bill on his desk as a thank you. He frowned and pushed it back to me. "Hey, you dropped this." He's playing it cool, I thought. Is a hundred not enough? With a rare burst of patience, I explained it was for the ride he gave me that morning. Only then did a flicker of recognition cross his face. It turned out he had no idea who I was. Me. Charles Hale. I practically ran this school, and this guy didn't even recognize me. Whatever. He was clueless, but I wasn't the type to hold a grudge over something so small. If he wouldn't take money, I'd buy him food, drinks, whatever. In my family, we don't just accept favors without paying them back. But the bastard refused everything. Hah. What a poser. After watching him for a week or two, I realized the guy was a complete island. He had no friends, did nothing but attend class, read, and do practice problems. He was a total loner. Since he wouldn't take gifts, I figured I'd try to be his friend. I invited him to play basketball, to grab food after school. He turned me down again. No one had ever turned me down so consistently. He was just asking for it. My crew, ever the opportunists, saw their chance. "Charles, you want us to teach him a lesson for you?" I was in the middle of a game and already pissed off, so I barely listened and just nodded. A few days later, I heard Justin had been beaten up. I was catching up on sleep at my desk when a stack of papers slammed down on it. I blinked my eyes open, confused. Justin stood over me, his face glacial. "You can have me beaten to death, but I will never do your homework for you." I was completely lost. "When did I beat you up? And when did I ask you to do my homework?" He let out a cold, angry laugh. "Man enough to do it, but not to admit it." That set me off. "You better have some proof before you start throwing accusations around, you asshole!" Justin’s gaze swept over me and my crew standing nearby, dripping with contempt. Whatever he was thinking, he just clenched his fists and walked away, seething. When I finally figured out what had happened, I chewed my guys out. I might be an arrogant prick, but I don't bully people. I apologized to Justin later. He ignored me. At that point, I gave up on the whole "friendship" idea. I never imagined that one day, he'd be the one to report me. 3 During a break in our senior year, I was behind the old, abandoned warehouse with my crew, having a smoke. Even though none of us were academic superstars, the intense, stressed-out atmosphere of senior year was getting to me. A smoke break in this hidden corner had become my ritual. I had just lit a cigarette and put it to my lips. And there, at the entrance to our little hideout, stood Justin. With the Dean of Students. Justin pointed right at me. "Mr. Davison, the cigarette butts you found in the boys' bathroom last week? That was them, too." Son of a bitch. I glared at Justin. He just stared straight ahead, his expression placid. As if I didn't even exist. Alright, Justin. You've crossed the line. This was war. But if he thought reporting me would get me in any real trouble, he was painfully naive. Like I said, I run this school. And why is that? Because the brand-new computer lab and the renovated library? My dad paid for them. I got an earful when I got home, but at school, I was untouchable. I made sure to rub it in his face. "What's the matter? Surprised your little report did absolutely nothing to me?" Justin didn't even look up from his worksheet. "Charles, I never expected you to get punished." "Then why the hell did you bother reporting me?" He flipped his scratch paper over. "Smoking violates the student code of conduct. As your classmate, I'm simply concerned about your physical and mental well-being." Concerned about my well-being, my ass. I kicked his desk and stormed off, cursing under my breath. Suddenly, Justin's calm voice drifted after me. "But the guys you hang out with weren't so lucky, were they?" After the Dean busted us, everyone except me got their bags searched. And unlike me, my crew wasn't immune. One of them had something that had been reported stolen in his backpack. Besides writing apologies, some got suspended. One even got expelled. It suddenly hit me. Those were the same guys who had beaten up Justin. A cold dread washed over me. 4 Justin might live like a hermit, but you couldn't deny he was brilliant. He won first place in the state math competition our senior year, making him an overnight celebrity at school. Even with his ice-cold demeanor, clueless girls were constantly stuffing snacks and drinks into his desk. Whenever this happened, I would magically appear, snatch the offerings, and stuff them in my mouth. Then I’d say, with a disgusting grin, "I haven't had much of an appetite lately, but seeing your stuff really gets me going." Then, mockingly, "Hey, weren't you the one so concerned about your classmates' health? Why the long face?" Justin would just stare at me. After a long moment, he’d walk down to the school store and buy the exact same items to give back to the girl. But what I didn't expect was that it wasn't just girls who were fooled by him. There were guys, too. One day, I happened to see a guy from the class next door corner Justin and confess his feelings. Justin said he wasn't into guys and tried to leave, but the other guy got pissed and started getting physical, even trying to force a kiss on him. I was watching from the sidelines, thrilled. This was pure gold. Serves you right, Justin-boy. Justin finally snapped. He landed a solid punch in the guy's stomach and walked away. I was still buzzing from the drama. And then it hit me—I had a brand new way to mess with him. When Justin was at the urinal, I’d stand next to him, dramatically glance down, and let out a theatrical gasp. "Whoa~" Justin would yank up his pants in disgust and move as far away from me as possible. During gym class, I'd sneak up behind him and smack his ass, giving it a little squeeze on the way out. "Whoa~" When Justin got his shirt dirty and went to change, I’d deliberately get too close. "Whoa~ Justin, you're so pale." Justin finally reached his breaking point and asked our homeroom teacher to transfer classes. Of course, our teacher didn't want to lose a star student like him, and every other teacher was fighting to get him. In the end, our teacher called my dad. I got yelled at half to death and ended up hating Justin even more. 5 I discovered that the girls on the school's Confession Page were calling Justin "hubby." What terrible taste. Absolutely terrible taste. They had a rich, handsome guy like me right here, and they were chasing after Justin? The next day, I ran into Justin at the school gate again. Just as my hand was about to make contact with its favorite target—his ass—he spun around and grabbed my wrist. I scoffed. "Nice moves. Quick reflexes." He shoved my hand away and started walking off without a word. That's when I shouted, "Hubby!" Every head at the school entrance snapped in our direction. Justin froze for a split second, then started walking faster. Haha! He was flustered. This was glorious. I immediately ran after him, yelling even louder. "Hubby! Hey, Hubby Justin! Hubby Justin, why are you walking so fast? Wait for me!" Within a day, the story of me screaming "hubby" at Justin at the school gate was legendary. My newest followers were worried. "Charles, man, I get that you hate the guy, but this is like a suicide mission. What if people think you're gay?" I thought they were worrying for nothing. So I call him hubby, and that makes me gay? If you guys called me your ancestor, would that make me George Washington? I just forgot one simple fact: even a cornered rabbit will bite back. And Justin was far from being a rabbit. That day, the school organized a sports day for the seniors to help us de-stress. Justin couldn't hide in the classroom this time. He had to come out, and he ended up playing basketball—on the opposing team. On the court, I made it my mission to intercept his every move, gloating and taunting him. "Hubby! Hubby, why don't you have the ball? Can't get it?" My comment sent a ripple of laughter through the other players. Justin missed shot after shot. I smirked, targeting him relentlessly. "Hubby? What's wrong, hubby?" "Why so quiet, hubby? Are you just naturally the silent type?" Justin's face was turning darker by the second. Finally, after fighting through a wall of defenders, he managed to sink a basket. I gasped dramatically. "Whoa! So hot, hubby! You're amazing!" Justin gave me one long, deep look, then turned and walked off the court. I'd really gotten to him today. I was ecstatic, humming a little tune as I headed to the locker room to change. I had just pushed the door open when a powerful force slammed me against the wall. 6 The next thing I knew, Justin's face was inches from mine. "What are you—" doing here? Before I could finish, Justin's mouth was on mine. It was a fierce, rushed kiss, his lips and tongue attacking mine, biting and bruising. For the first time, I realized how strong he was. I struggled, but he pinned my hands easily, holding me completely still. There was no emotion in it, no skill, just raw force. My lips were starting to ache. After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back slightly, though his grip didn't loosen. We were both panting, out of breath. I shot him my most murderous glare. "Justin, are you insane?! Let me go!" He took a breath, his expression blank. "What happened to 'hubby'?" I scowled. "Are you sick?" "You were just calling me hubby, weren't you? What's wrong with a husband kissing his wife?" Now it was my turn to get pissed. "Wife, my ass! I'm a guy!" A humorless smile touched his lips. "So what if you're a guy? Weren't you just cheering about how amazing your hubby is?" Then, before I could react, he kissed me again. This time it was even harder, but he was a fast learner. He wasn't just conquering my mouth; his hands started roaming over my waist, and my knees actually started to feel weak. A wave of panic washed over me. He's... he's supposed to be homophobic! What the hell is with all the kissing and touching?! Justin finally pulled his head back, his grip loosening just a bit. "Now, tell me more. How amazing is your hubby?" Amazing my ass! You psycho! I shoved him away with all my might and bolted, not even daring to change my clothes. As I ran, Justin's cold voice followed me. "Charles. From now on, every time you call me hubby, I'm going to kiss you." "I mean it. Try me if you don't believe me." 7 People at school started noticing that I’d go out of my way to avoid Justin. Like he was the Grim Reaper himself. My crew was confused. "Charles, why are you scared of him? Let's get him!" I felt like my guys and I were on completely different wavelengths. When I was on the warpath, they told me to back off. Now that I was backing off, they wanted me to go after him. So I beat them up. Now we were all on the same wavelength. We all avoided Justin. Suddenly, Justin became the guy even the school bully was afraid of. Someone on the Confession Page said it looked like we broke up. I was furious. What do you mean, broke up? We were never together in the first place! Someone else lamented that their favorite "ship" had apparently sunk. Ugh. Clearly, they didn't have enough homework to do. But Justin's life? It didn't change at all. He was still number one in every exam, still had his head buried in a book, still wore that same faded school uniform, and still rode that piece-of-junk bicycle that even a thief would pity. My life felt like it had gone back to how it was before Justin ever transferred. Time flew by, and just like that, it was winter break. 8 It was New Year's Eve, at the annual family banquet. My father and my stepmother were in the center of the grand hall, exchanging fake pleasantries. My other relatives stood around them, their smiles just as phony. It was a picture of perfect, artificial harmony. I was staring blankly at my plate, bored out of my mind, when someone bumped into me. Wine sloshed all over my suit. A waiter stammered an apology, crouching down to pick up the shattered glass. Looking at my stained clothes, I clicked my tongue in annoyance. "Forget it, don't pick it up. Just get housekeeping to—" My words died in my throat when I saw the waiter's face. "...Justin?" Justin, dressed in a waiter's uniform, flinched but kept his head down, continuing to clean up the mess. The hotel manager rushed over, first berating Justin, then turning to me with an apologetic smile. I waved him off, pointing at Justin. "Have him take me to get changed." The moment we were inside the hotel room they provided, Justin pursed his lips and spoke. "How much will the dry cleaning cost? I'll pay you." The banquet was painfully dull, and seeing him here, an idea for some fun sparked in my mind. "Not much, a few thousand maybe. But if you... service me right, I'll let it slide." I never expected the cool and collected academic genius to turn bright red. He just stood there, frozen. I was getting impatient and was about to mock him when he slowly raised his hands. I closed my eyes with a smug grin, ready to enjoy being waited on by my rival. But then I heard a rustling sound that didn't seem right. I opened my eyes. Justin had already taken off his shirt. I leaped off the sofa in shock. "What the hell, Justin? Why are you taking your clothes off?" Justin's face was a mask of humiliation and defiance. "Isn't this what you wanted, Mr. Hale? The 'service' you rich gay guys are into? Isn't this it?" What the hell? Us rich gay guys? I exploded. "Who the fuck is gay? You're the gay one! What is wrong with your brain?!" "I wanted you to give me a foot massage! You're a waiter here! Don't you know this hotel is famous for its foot massages?" Justin's expression went blank for a second. His face flushed, then paled, then flushed again. It took him a long moment to force out the words, his voice tight with embarrassment. "I'm a temp for the holidays. I only work the banquet hall. I didn't know." I closed my eyes, all my mischievous energy gone. I waved a hand dismissively. "Forget it. Just get out." "Your suit—" "Worry about yourself. I've got more suits than I can count. This one getting dirty is nothing."
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