The Boys

The school gym looked like one that belonged to Olympic trainees. My old school could never afford all the material and equipment they had here. Charlie gave me a quick tour before taking me to the main gym room. Yeah, because they had multiple. I pushed open the door, but as soon as I did, a volleyball came flying my way and hit me on the head. I staggered back, falling flat on my butt.

"My bad!" I heard someone yell over the ringing pain that echoed between my ears.

"Ouch," I mumbled, rubbing my face to make sure nothing was broken. When I looked up, a tall boy stood in front of me. He had Hispanic features: tanned olive skin, chestnut hair, and eyes. He wore a jersey that revealed his muscular arms and round shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked, crouching in front of me. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

He wriggled his fingers so close to my face my eyes unfocused. I pulled my head back.

"Four," I mumbled.

A smile stretched on his face, and he looked over his shoulder, raising a thumb

"It's okay, Scott, I didn't kill him!"

Another student who I assumed was Scott-jogged towards us.

"Give him some space, Trevor," Scott said, pulling the first student away from me. The two students argued, and I couldn't help but notice the funny contrast in their features. Scott had fair, satiny skin, and his eyes were a beautiful shade of cerulean. He was lean, while Trevor's body was more toned, but they were both tall and fit. Strangely, their opposite attributes complemented each other. They shared two qualities: they were both tall and handsome.

"I told you to watch your aim. You're supposed to hit the ball across the court, not hit someone in the face," Scott scolded him.

"What can I say? My babies are strong." Trevor grinned, planting a kiss on his biceps.

Scott rolled his eyes and turned towards me. The lines on his face softened, and I felt like I was staring at an angel.

"Sorry about my friend." He smiled sheepishly.

"Best friend," Trevor coughed. Scott ignored him and helped me on my feet.

"You're Desmond, right?"

I nodded.

"Scott," he introduced himself. "The guy making out with his biceps is Trevor. And it seems like you've already met Charlie. You're the transfer student, right?"

"Unfortunately, yes." I smiled shyly.

"Welcome to Ivory High," Scott beamed, picking up the volleyball and tucking it under his arm, looking like a model without even trying to. "If you need any help, I advise you to steer clear from Trevor and come directly to me or Charlie. We'll help you out."

"What do you mean steer clear from Trevor?" his best friend snapped. "I can be just as helpful as you and Cha."

"You don't even know how to tie your shoes," Scott sighed. Trevor stole his volleyball, and they wrestled and fought. I didn't know if they were fooling around or trying to kill each other. We heard someone blow a whistle. A short, chubby man with an unshaven beard walked to the center of the room. He narrowed his eyes at us.

"What are you four ladies standing at the door for? You can gossip about your period cramps after you get changed. Come on, let's go, hustle!"

We quickly moved.

"That's Mr. Harrison, our P.E teacher," Scott whispered.

"Um, he's a little..."

"Sexist?" Charlie completed.

"Misogynistic?" Trevor snorted.

"Rude?" Scott smiled.

"Yeah, those," I chuckled.

"He had a pretty nasty divorce," Scott explained. "But he's sweet to his daughter."

I followed them to the changing room and realized that I didn't bring any gym clothes.

"Here," Trevor said, throwing me a red jersey and a pair of black shorts. "Don't worry, I have an extra pair in my locker. Those came fresh out of the laundry."

"Since when do you do your laundry?" Scott retorted

"I don't," he laughed. "You do."

Trevor began chatting with the guy next to him, and I noticed Scott's gaze drop to Trevor's *** for a beat too long. His eyes then met mine. Flustered, he looked away.

What was that about?

When we finished changing, we stood in parallel lines in front of Mr. Harrison.

"Alright, I'm going to take a roll call. Every two names that I call will pair up and do warm-ups. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" the class replied in unison. I

was the only one offbeat.

"Alicon and Ander?" When he got closer to my letter of the alphabet, I paid attention."... Lopez and Lunar. Mellow and-" he paused, squinting his eyes and bringing his clipboard to his nose. "Mellow? Why do I have a Mellow?"

He looked up and scanned our faces, stopping at mine. I gulped, straightening my shoulders.

"Are you Marshmellow?"

"It's Mellow, sir.".

"Okay, Marshmellow," he said, preferring my new nickname. "Who are you and what are you doing in my gym?"

"I'm the transfer student."

"Your last name rings a bell. Have we met before?"

"No, I don't believe we haven't," I said nervously.

"Well, never mind. Did you play any sports in your old school? You have a lean body. Do you swim?"

"In the summer, yes."

Mr. Harrison rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about your summer baths with your rubber duckies, boy."

I paused. "Then no, sir."

"Shame, you remind me of an excellent swimmer who used to attend this school. Anyway, you're with-" he trailed his finger down his clipboard, "Moonrich."

My eyes widened, turning towards Ivan who stood on the other side of the line. He didn't seem too pleased either.

"But-"

Everyone snapped their heads towards me. Trevor frantically shook his head at me.

"Did I just hear a 'but?"?" Mr. Harrison glowered.

"Uh..." A bead of sweat trickled down my back. "I was referring to my buttocks, sir."

Mr. Harrison rolled his eyes, and the students stifled their laughter.

"No one cares about your butt problems Marshmellow, now go warm up with Moonrich."

I jumped when he blew his whistle at me and quickly joined Ivan, who was already stretching at the back of the room.

"Hi," I said, trying to strike a conversation. "I don't know if you remember me, but I sat beside you in class this morning."

Ivan ignored me and started doing push-ups. Maybe he wasn't much of a talker? I followed his lead and got on my hands and knees, pushing myself off the ground. I was going to stop on our twentieth rep until I noticed that he kept going.

"Hey, don't you think we've done enough?" I said, trying to keep.

"You can stop if you're tired." It sounded like he was calling me weak.

I twitched, feeling petty and competitive. "Tired? Oh, I'm just getting started." I

smirked.

I was confident until we reached our sixtieth rep. My upper body ached, and my arms wouldn't stop trembling. I eventually gave up and collapsed onto the floor, wincing as the knots in my muscles loosened.

"****, that hurts," I moaned, clutching my stomach. Ivan's eyes flickered toward me, which made me realize how sexual I sounded. It was unintentional, but Ivan seemed amused, and I felt my cheeks turn redder than they already were. Ivan stood up and wiped away the bead of sweat that trickled down his forehead. How could someone look so perfect after working out? How was that humanly possible? He gave me a scornful grin.

"Better luck next time, Marshmellow." He smirked.

My left eye twitched. "Hey, you..."

Mr. Harrison blew his whistle, and my insults were bleep censored. By the time the teacher stopped whistling, Ivan had already joined the others.

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