CLASSY [boyxboy]

Chapter 10: Lock and Load

ADAM'S POV

I woke up, a dry, metallic taste in my mouth. »Ugh!« I scolded, grimasing, moving my jaw in every possible direction, to assert the damage.

The room looked familiar. The walls were painted cotton pink with little white bows all over the place. It definitely wasn't my room – too much pink – but it was a room I have been in before. My stare traced over some framed photos. I was even in one of them, hugging a petite brunette. That's it! Rachel. Her name was Rachel McAdams and this must've been where Angelique forced me to come yesterday. Where was she, by the way? I sttod up, quickly finding out it was a bad idea. »Ow, ow, headache!«

A soft chuckle came from the doorframe. »More like a hangover, big guy.« I frowned at the voice, it certainly wasn't Angeliques, except if she has had a sex change during my black out. I cast a glance at the person, seeing it was one of my teammates. »Peterson? Oh God! We didn't, did we?! Oh God, no!«

He let out a small puff, hardly containing himself. »Don't rush to conclusions lover boy. I told you, I'm not gay.« I waved him off, gently rubbing my templates. »Right, right. You're only with guys because you like to dominate them. However could I find you gay?!«

His shoulders slouched a bit, walking slowly towards me. »I know, I know, I'm a jackass. But I really can't be gay, I'm too scared of what people might think.« I softly hugged him, squeezing his shoulder. »Just say that you're bi, or something. It won't be the truth but it definitely won't be a lie.« He nodded, completely lost in his own world. Letting go of his shoulder, I traced out of the room, trying to find the source of all happiness. Coffee.

»Hey, Singer!« I turned around, flashing him an evil eye because no one ever interrupts my coffee routine. »What?!« I spit in his direction. Damn you to hell if I have to give you another opinion, you stupid monkey-man!

»Nothing, I was just gonna say that I'm happy for you. You know, you scoring last night and all.« Wait, what? »What do you mean, scoring?« He gave me a light smirk. »Well you know, you and that cheerleader, Angelique? I have to confess, I was a little jealous of all the noises coming out from your room. But I have to admit, she's a little too loud for me. Still, glad you got laid, I know you haven't. Not since Michael…«

***

Fuck. Now I have to think about him. Without realising it, my daydream slipped from Michael to Mike, making me smile. Maybe I really was getting over him, maybe my heart was finally healing. Then I remembered what Peterson said about Angie and me getting down and dirty. Was he making it up to hurt me? Gaah! I can't think. First things first.

First coffee. Second, coffee. Third,… coffee. I need some coffeeeee! After a few minutes of wailing and stomping around Rachel's kitchen, I finally found a decent patch of not so freshly boiled coffee. Fuck it, I just need it now, no matter what the state.

I poured myself a cup, letting out a soft moan. This was the life, a cup of coffee and the hangover was gone. I thought back to the night before, trying to remember what happened. After a few flashbacks of me crying and her giggling, I stopped. I know, I'm a big frail gay wuss but at least I was an uncoscious wuss, right? I mean, it doesn't count if I'm unconscious.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course it counts and now she's probably going to tell Mike that her and I are a real thing now and nothing will ever happen between us. As if there ever was a chance, but still, now there definitely won't be one.

I kept staring out the kitchen window, wondering about life. I reached in my pocket, not thinking straight – taking a cigarette. It's not like I'm going to grow anymore. Not true. I will grow, spiritually. I smirked at myself, my oh my, Adam, aren't we punny today?

Light steps sounded from upstairs, trying not to wake anybody. Too late, early riser in the house. I gulped down the rest of the coffee and decided to leave.

On my way out, I took my jacket, giving the living room one last quick check up. Everything seemed so normal, so the same. I guess that nothing really changes and everything stays the same. My dad was right, no one cares if you live or die.

My stare stiffened. If nothing changes, maybe I have to change something. Be careful, the wild, powerful and creative thing just woke up in me and it is ready to pitch a fit. I, Adam Singer, am going to find Annie's killer and finish him off.

My cellphone kept ringing until I reached the person on the other line. »Hey. Yeah, it's me. I changed my mind about the offer. Let's kill the bitch!«