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NOTE:
I'm not going be using abbreviations or acronyms for the text messages in this because while that works alright (IMO) for random bits here and there in a story, with the amount of texting in this story I feel it would just be too clunky, and would exclude too many people who don't text often and would get hung up trying to cipher the messages out. So, just assume all the text messages in here (which will be in italics) were sent in text speak, m'kay? |
Spike lay back on top of the blankets on his bed in faded sweatpants and an oversized tee-shirt, ear buds in his ears, listening to Green Day's newest CD on his mp3 player. It was late Saturday afternoon in early May, but not just any Saturday afternoon. It was the first Saturday since he'd graduated from high school and his first Saturday afternoon as an eighteen year old, to boot.
He still couldn't believe it. He was eighteen. What's more, he was a high school graduate. Come autumn, he'd be a college freshman and living on his own far away from home. He'd miss his mates, of course, but Lindsey -- who was a year older than him and Xander -- had already been to uni for a year by then, so only getting to see him on breaks was already the norm. And Xander had joined the military. Marines, to be specific. He left for boot camp the first week of September, so even if Spike had stuck around and attended uni right there in New York, he would have been on his own anyway.
Last night, after sitting through the obligatory party his dad had thrown that day -- complete with doting relatives and the like there to celebrate both his birthday and his graduation -- Xander had kidnapped Spike and dragged him over to Lindsey's flat, a posh Manhattan penthouse. Since Lindsey's step-father -- who Lindsey had lived with ever since his mum died -- was out of town for the weekend on business per the usual, Spike had expected a night of watching porn and possibly drinking booze, but had been surprised to find a party in full swing when he'd stepped inside with Xander.
They had gone all out for him: balloons, cake, music and plenty of alcohol. There'd even been a selection of willing females for him to choose from, but Spike hadn't indulged. He hadn't been much for dating or even just a random shag since Drusilla had left him two months ago after two years of being together. She'd claimed his heart wasn't in it. What did she know? His heart hadn't been the same since.
Spike took a drink from his bottled water and licked his lips. He'd only been home an hour, having crashed at Lindsey's after the party instead of coming home pissed, and had taken a quick shower before relaxing back on his bed with his music, nursing the last of his hangover. He'd just started to drift off to sleep when the side of his leg vibrated. Starting awake, Spike looked down to where he'd left his mobile lying next to his thigh on the bed.
Not having expected to hear from anyone until later in the day, Spike frowned as he picked it up and saw it was a text. He didn't recognize the number, but it wasn't like he gave out his number to just anyone, so it had to be a friend, he reasoned. Probably someone who'd got a new mobile and forgot to mention it.
Opening it, he arched a pierced eyebrow at the cryptic message. Meet me for a movie. 26th and Oak. #3. 9 p.m.
Curious, he texted back saying he'd be there and asking who it was, but his text hadn't been returned. Not that alarming, in and of itself. Texts got lost all the time, and cell phone batteries died or got shut off, or ended up in a bad area for reception.
Apparently, he'd just have to wait until he got there to find out who it was.
After taking a quick kip to reenergize, Spike ate dinner with his dad then got ready to go out. He still had no idea who had texted him, but he figured he'd find out when he got there. He'd thought he was going to have to spend the evening alone since Xander had to work, Lindsey had a date, and his other mates were equally busy with work or dates, so getting to go out was a welcome distraction from the fact that he was single now with too much time on his hands.
After assuring his dad he wouldn't be all night again, Spike flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address. The driver looked at him oddly, but didn't say anything, leaving Spike to wonder what his ruddy problem was.
When the cab pulled up to the curb at ten to nine, though, Spike worked out the reason for the driver's expression. He wasn't easily embarrassed, and if he'd known ahead of time where he was going it wouldn't have been a big deal, but as it was, the destination caught Spike off guard and heat rose in his cheeks as he took in the huge neon sign above the doors to the cinema that read XXX. Worse, Spike looked around and realized they weren't in the best section of the city. It wasn't the worst, by far, but it made him nervous to be there after dark by himself.
Curiosity overriding common sense, Spike paid the cabbie and climbed from the car, hurrying inside. Once through the doors, he looked around for someone he recognized, but all the people -- mostly men -- milling around the lobby of the cinema were unfamiliar. More curious by the minute, he showed his ID and bought a ticket for the movie in theatre three, only finding out after that fact that it wasn't just a skin flick. It was a gay skin flick.
Figuring that it was Lindsey or possibly Xander playing a prank on him, Spike decided to call their bluff. He bought a popcorn with extra butter and a soda, then walked into the theatre and sat down, waiting to see what would happen next. Not like he was homophobic in the least anyway, so the joke was on them.
The movie started, the lame plot kicked into gear, and before long Spike was shoveling popcorn in his mouth by the handful as he watched in a cross between vague awkwardness and utter fascination as the two men on screen did things to each other he hadn't even imagined was possible. Not that he was an innocent or a prude by any means. He just hadn't given a lot of in depth thought to two men together before, although there had been a time or two certain blokes had caught his eye and he'd even wondered what it'd be like to kiss them.
Again, not homophobic. He had no problem admitting he could appreciate a hot guy. It was just…the female of the species had kept him more than adequately busy and entertained up to now, especially considering he'd spent two of his two and a half sexually active years with Dru.
But now…now he was wondering why he hadn't given it some serious consideration before. Blokes looked like they were having a bloody lot of fun. Lifting his bucket of popcorn, Spike discretely adjusted himself. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but everyone else was glued to the screen too, or was busy with their hands down their trousers.
By the time the flick was done, Spike was understandably hard and understandably frustrated, and most of all, understandably confused. He'd expected Lindsey or Xander or both of them to jump out at him at some point and rib him mercilessly for going to a gay porno, or possibly pat him on the back for finally turning eighteen -- he'd been the last of the trio to do so -- and being able to legally get in.
But none of that happened and now the screen was dark and people were shuffling out of the theatre. Once the room emptied out, Spike stood, looked around one last time, and exited himself, tossing his empty soda cup and popcorn container in the bin by the door.
That night, lying in the dark of his room long after his dad had gone to sleep, Spike's hand drifted down his chest, over his flat stomach and into the thatch of curls at his groin. He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes, images of the two men fucking on screen playing through his head as he took himself in hand and slowly wanked. And when he came, it was with a strangled cry and an arch and a thought.
Who had texted him?
Chapter 1