Between the Blue Sky and You

by Clyde Andrews

  Between the Blue Sky and You

  -Book One of the Preston Tigers Trilogy: The Beginning-

  Clyde Andrews

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  The right of Clyde Andrews to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him.

  Copyright © Clyde Andrews 2020

  Edited by Charlie Knight: www.cknightwrites.com

  Cover by DAPA Images and used under license with Canva Premium for use as Kindle book cover © 2020 Cover content is for illustration purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  ALL RIGHT RESERVED. No part of this may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author.

  Published by Eridani Books 2020

  Chance Kerrigan, a seventeen-year-old gay boy, is all alone. He has been all throughout high school, to be honest. It’s not his fault his first and only boyfriend left to go live in some faraway country a year ago.

  Who the hell moves to Estonia, anyway?

  It’s now Chance’s senior year at Preston High. The big one. And he’s sick and tired of being lonely through no fault of his own. He also really, really wants a date for the School Formal at the end of the year. He fantasises of arriving in a fancy limousine, hand in hand with the boy of his dreams.

  Whoever that might be.

  Unfortunately, Chance has built up walls around him to help cope with being unpopular. So yeah, in a way his loneliness is his own fault. Little does Chance know there’s a boy who isn’t trying to avoid him, after all. A boy he will never believe in a million years has any interest in him.

  Can Chance see over his walls in time, or will he miss the opportunity of a lifetime with the boy of his dreams?

  1

  Chance knew people avoided him. Heck, even his own mum avoided him a lot of the time, especially recently. How did he know that? Well, it was painfully simple to figure out.

  For one, she always made sure she left for work at 7am, despite the fact she didn’t usually start until 10am and only needed to go up the road to the local convenience store—a car trip of less than five minutes.

  Five freaking minutes!

  What she did for two hours and fifty-five minutes before work started was anyone’s guess. Did she drink copious amounts of coffee in the staff canteen because without it she couldn’t function? Regardless of how she spent the time, avoiding him sure had become an art form and his mum’s morning escape from the house lately was just one clue.

  Chance knew he wasn’t overreacting. No way. Like the note she’d left on the kitchen countertop that usually greeted him each morning after he’d schlepped himself out of bed, showered, threw on his school uniform, and tried to brush down his wayward hair with no real success. Damn his deadbeat father’s genetics and inherited hair that looked like an animal had died on his head—and that was on a good day.

  Chance plucked up the note with a sigh, still trying to plaster down his fringe with his other hand. Absolutely no success there.

  “Honey, sorry I missed you…” the note began in the rushed chicken scratchings that was his mum’s handwriting under the duress of not wanting to spend another minute in the house with him.

  Chance sighed again.

  It was like Chance was contagious with some tropical disease or something the way she avoided him sometimes. More so when she made it sound like she’d only just walked out the door, not three hours ago while Chance slept, dreaming of other boys and doing his best to get rid of his morning wood—which meant shower time lasted longer than it should, of course. Screw the water bill; relieving sexual tension was important when single, lonely, and desperate.

  Besides, he didn’t fancy aching balls all day. Especially when he was dreaming about the hottest boy in school, Brody Simpson, the new captain of the Preston Tigers’ senior football team. Now he was boner-inducing material. Brody was so good-looking that it was a crime and he should be arrested. Stat! The thought of Brody in handcuffs, those sexy, deep brown eyes of his looking up at him, pleading for mercy…

  Chance blinked rapidly, trying to rid that image from his mind. Otherwise, his thoughts would stiffen his dick again; he didn’t have time for another shower.

  He continued reading. “…but I’ve made your lunch with whatever was left over from the last two nights. Let’s call it a bit of a surprise meal and leave it at that, shall we? It’s in the fridge next to the pecan pie you can’t touch under pain of torture and death, so help you God. Anyway, I love you, honey. Have a good day at school. Kiss, kiss, hug, hug.”

  Chance wondered above all else why there was pecan pie he wasn’t allowed to eat in the fridge. He then had a terrible thought; one that made his stomach turn worse than eating the surprise leftovers he had to deal with at lunchtime. Oh, crap in a handbasket…did that mean his mum had a date tonight? An actual dinner date that meant he’d have to make himself scarce because her boyfriends were usually selfish or homophobic or inbred cretins?

  Or all three.

  Like the last one, the arsewipe.

  Chance shuddered. His phone’s alarm bleeped, startling him from his thoughts of that man leering over his mum like she was some marked down piece of meat at the local supermarket near closing time. Straight men were such pigs as far as he was concerned. Chance was glad he had nothing to do with them. Then again, Brody was straight, and Chance would like to have a lot to do with that boy. A heck of a lot.

  If only he could approach Brody to let him know he even existed. That would be a start…wouldn’t it? But he couldn’t. Not with Brody. Doing so could mean he’d be rejected, and Chance couldn’t handle that right now.

  He snorted, then laughed to himself. “Not even if he was the last boy on Earth would he want to get to know me. No one does.”

  The alarm meant he had to get to school, otherwise he’d be late.

  Not that anyone would notice him there, either.

  Chance had mastered the art of invisibility, something science hadn’t achieved and therefore was still only a fantasy to the rest of the world. He considered selling his secret for millions. It was simple to achieve; tell everyone you’re gay, and voilà! People suddenly couldn’t see you—or couldn’t wait to get away to some weird alien country like Estonia, as his first boyfriend Liam had!

  Liam.

  Now he was hot. All lovely long legs with not too much hair, strong hands, cute but handsome features, and a bulge in his shorts that made Chance shower for too long many times. That is until Brody became his latest infatuation. The way Chance thought about Brody lately, it was a wonder he hadn’t rubbed his dick down to a stump.

  He picked up his backpack after stuffing the “surprise leftover” lunch into it. It really didn’t look appetising but it was food, and he couldn’t afford a canteen lunch. His mum was the only breadwinner of the house with Chance not even having a part-time job, since that invisible thing he had going on meant potential employers picked others to fill positions.

  Not being able to contribute cut him deep sometimes.

  No wonder his mother avoided him.

  More sighing as he headed for the front door to greet another day as a total invisible loser. Just fabulous…not!

  Preston High was just like any other, if a little more progressive than most because it had gender neutral bathrooms. That was something. Chance schlepped himself up the front steps of the restored building’s h
eritage façade, a monstrosity of red bricks and white window frames. The main hall was busy, full of students jostling about, shouting, laughing, and getting in the way because he was invisible, after all…right?

  The first bell hadn’t sounded yet when Chance made a beeline for his locker. In doing so, he passed a group of senior year boys wearing the Preston Tigers’ football uniform. Before school began, practice must have just finished for them since there was plenty of butt and back slapping going on; they must have had a good time kicking an oblong-shaped leather ball around, because they sure were happy now.

  Chance had to admit, he liked the Tigers’ uniform. Tight black short shorts that emphasised their bubble butts and bulges nicely, and a sleeveless guernsey of black with orange stripes that showed off their biceps and long arms…lovely! Those boys were certainly all fit and fine.

  Though, Brody wasn’t with them.

  That was strange.

  Chance didn’t stare too long to find out where Brody was, though. He liked his internal organs bruise-free and functioning. He also liked his balls where they were, too—dangling comfortably between his legs instead of being separated by a swift kick to drop him to the floor where he’d then be vulnerable to having the crap booted out of him. Straight boys didn’t appreciate being leered at by gay boys, that was a fact. A lesson Chance had learned long ago, his missing molar evidence of that. He couldn’t afford to get it replaced either, even with the government subsidy for minors to get dental work.

  Chance walked by the group of footballers, the shiny tiled floor his view now. He opened his locker after entering his code. As he did so, he felt a presence behind him, his “spidey senses” tingling as it were. Chance didn’t turn around. If he did, he would be met with a fist that no doubt wanted to get to know his face a lot better. He liked the rest of his teeth where they were.

  Best to play innocent and ignore whoever was—

  “Hey, Chance,” a smooth, sexy male voice said, interrupting his thoughts. “What up?”

  Chance, surprised he was being greeted, turned around. He gasped while his gaze fell straight into the dreamy, deep brown eyes of Brody Simpson. In a heartbeat, Chance’s stomach lurched to cause his breath to hitch in his throat. All he could manage was a strangled and ugly “urgh!” noise in reply.

  Brody smiled.

  Chance couldn’t help but stare at Brody for an eternity as his insides tried to get back to some normality.

  “I said, what up, Chance?” Brody kept his smile; crap in a handbasket his smile was delicious. His lips were so kissable, too. It hurt, it really did.

  Chance still couldn’t function, and his hands went sweaty as a result of being so close to Brody. So close, he was able to smell his after-practice odour—manly and musky and sweet from the deodorant he wore all at the same time. It was almost too much to bear. That and the uniform Brody wore that did absolutely everything for Chance. To put it simply, Chance was stunned.

  Brody pressed, “Hey, you okay?”

  Chance slowly nodded. Then it struck him. Brody had never even talked to him before. Why now? He suspected that this was a setup, a ploy to get him to admit he was staring at the rest of Brody’s team earlier.

  To reinforce Chance’s line of thinking, Brody’s smile faltered and was then wiped from his face. It was as if a dark cloud suddenly blew over him.

  Chance, raising his hands to protect his face, his stomach sinking at the same time, managed, “Please don’t hit me, Brody.”

  2

  “I’m not going to hit you, Chance.” Brody let out a cute little laugh, one that made Chance feel an inkling of hope that he wasn’t going to have his balls kicked out of his scrotum. “I just wanted to say hi, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s not a crime, is it?”

  Chance wasn’t so sure, but he lowered his hands. “You’ve never even spoken to me before, let alone come near me, so you can probably understand why I’m suspicious now.”

  Brody shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted to say hi, and that’s all there is to it. No conspiracy or ulterior motive. How about that?”

  Chance’s stomach tightened. He couldn’t believe he was talking to Brody, even if he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure why. There had to be a more sinister reason, right? Straight jocks didn’t talk to gay nerds. Ever. That wasn’t how the high school hierarchy worked.

  “Okay, you’ve said it. Can I go now?”

  Brody stepped aside, gesturing for Chance to pass. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

  Chance didn’t hesitate. He closed his locker and made his move. Though, in doing so, his shoulder brushed against Brody’s. That was some electricity shooting through him right there when contact was made, that’s for sure. Chance shivered delightfully, thinking about how touching Brody with more meaning than a casual glance would be heaven.

  A heaven he knew he couldn’t have.

  Within a heartbeat, Chance was by the water fountain, breathing hard. He was sweating, but his mouth was dry. So dry, his tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth. What was that all about? Why the sudden interest in him? No one spoke to Chance, because no one even saw him, anyway. After all, he’d mastered the art of invisibility.

  As if to reinforce his thoughts, a lanky boy, all greasy hair and knobbly elbows, barged past him to get to the fountain without so much as a grunt or an “excuse me.”

  Chance stepped away from the boy just as the first bell sounded. History was first up on his schedule. He sat at the back of the class where no one else bothered him, including the teacher. As always. Chance did well in school, anyway. A benefit of being left alone, he supposed.

  “You are kind of weird, aren’t you, Chance?” Brody asked as he sat in one of the many empty chairs next to Chance. No one ever sat next to him—aside from being invisible, he also had that tropical disease thing going on as well.

  So why was Brody, of all people, sitting next to him now?

  “If I’m so weird, why are you sitting next to me?” Chance snapped. He was getting tired already because he now knew with certainty Brody was playing with him. The sight of his football mates across the classroom snickering behind their hands had everything to do with it.

  “Ooh, tetchy as well, aren’t you?”

  “What if I am?” Chance turned to look at Brody, right into those dreamy eyes of his. Eyes that he could sink into forever and never want to be rescued from. For a split second, Chance was caught in them, unable to break free until he forced himself to add, “Now go back to your mates; I’m not providing your free entertainment today.”

  Brody turned his attention to his team. “Don’t mind them. They’re just laughing at me.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  Before Brody could answer, Ms. Hamdi entered the classroom stealing the words off his very kissable lips. Chance was thankful in a way. Did he need to know the truth? Brody was talking to him and sitting next to him. Surely he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth; even if it was rather strange Brody paid him any attention at all.

  A hush from everyone else fell over the classroom. Ms. Hamdi glanced over the room, a gentle smile on her face. Chance liked her, even if she never really spoke to him outside of necessity. He also liked the colours of the hijabs she wore, ones that always matched her outfits of flowing cloth and modernised patterns. She was beautiful.

  She announced, “Today, we’re going to discuss Ancient Greek society and how they became one of the most recognised cultural influencers of their day, an achievement that’s still recognised today.”

  One football boy put up his hand straight away. “Weren’t they all gay, Ms. Hamdi?”

  Chance groaned. Typical jock question, one narrow-minded and ill-informed, as always. Brody shifted his weight which didn’t surprise Chance; no doubt he was uncomfortable as well, especially when the conversation turned to homosexuality. Straight boys…what can you do with them?

  “If they were all gay, Simon, then there w
ouldn’t be a society for us to talk about right now, would there? Think about it.”

  A snicker went through the classroom.

  A girl put up her hand. “But Simon’s right, to a certain extent. Isn’t he?”

  Ms. Hamdi nodded calmly, then went on to explain how experienced warriors were partnered with young men to train them. As such, in some cases, physical relations between those men developed due to their close association and bonding.

  Chance zoned out about then, deciding to steal glances at Brody instead. He was nice to look at, even if Chance still couldn’t figure out why the boy was sitting next to him, let alone talking to him. Sure, Brody was handsome, that wasn’t in doubt. As he stared without staring too much, Chance swallowed, his tongue sticking to his dry mouth again. That was something new to deal with.

  The more he looked, the more he admired. By God, Brody was just so beautiful, with his button nose, swooping brown lustrous hair to one side, and long eyelashes. He was a living dream realised. There wasn’t even a mark on his skin except for a few freckles over the bridge of his nose. Did the boy never get zits? Being a fit and fine football boy must be good for one thing, then.

  Chance got zits in a second whenever he stressed out. Which was all the time. He had one now, right on his forehead’s hairline. He was sure Brody thought the thing resembled Mt Vesuvius about to blow. How could he look at Chance when he couldn’t even look at himself when he had an eruption of epic proportions on his face?

  He tried to swallow, only managing it after three attempts.

  By that time, Ms. Hamdi had handed out homework and the bell sounded. English was next up. Brody followed Chance there and sat next to him in that class as well. Chance was flabbergasted about why the boy would do that. It’s not like Brody even acknowledged Chance existed before today. What the heck was going on?

  That went on until lunchtime.

  “Why have you been following me all morning?” Chance couldn’t help but blurt while retrieving his lunch from his backpack. If the food his mum cobbled together from leftovers looked bad this morning, it looked positively vile now.