Chubby Chaser (10 page)

Jason rose from bed on Saturday morning, surprised he was still smarting from his fight with the City High player. After suffering through all the beatings he had gotten from his father, he would’ve thought his tolerance for pain would’ve been much higher. Maybe Eric had had the right idea about catching that jerk later on for some payback. It would have to be after today, though. Today Jason had big plans, starting with renting a tux. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and freaked when he saw the time: it was one o’clock in the afternoon! Damn! He knew he had slept in, but he didn’t know it was by that much. He threw on the first T-shirt and pair of jeans from his closet he could reach and flew down the stairs, not even bothering to shower.

Jason opened the door to the garage and saw that both of his parents’ cars were gone. Good. He didn’t want to see them today, not after what they had done last night, or rather what they hadn’t done. He had come home last night, still on cloud nine after winning homecoming king and defeating City in the homecoming game, and he had wanted to share the good news with his parents. He had gone into the den, where they had been watching television, to do just that, but they had shown no interest: his mother had given him nothing more than a blithe
That
’
s nice
,
honey
, and his father had given him nothing at all. It was bad enough that they didn’t come to his games, but they could at least show him that they were proud of him and his achievements, or at least pretend to be if they weren’t.

Jason listened to his voicemail messages on his way to pick up his tux:

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Emily squealed through the phone. “It’s homecoming. I hope you remembered—”

(He deleted the message. It might have been after one in the afternoon, but it was still too early for Emily’s bullshit.)

“Hey, Jason, it’s Dave. Didn’t get a chance to talk with you last night, but congratulations on another win, buddy. Hopefully, you can keep up your winning streak when you attend Ohio next year. Left you a little something in your account. Talk to you later.”

(Ah. It was good to be king.)

Jason picked the first black tux he found that was in his size and that didn’t have a bowtie (he hated those things) and returned home. He checked his phone: it was now two o’clock. He didn’t have to start getting ready for the dance for another four hours, so he decided to occupy his time with a few rounds of
Halo Four
until then.

The party bus came to pick Jason up at seven thirty for homecoming. He, his friends, and their friends all chipped in for the party bus. The plan was to spend about an hour at the dance, so everyone would have time to take pictures and Jason and Emily would have time to have their dance as homecoming king and queen. Then they’d all go back to the party bus to continue the real celebration.

Jason checked himself out in the hallway mirror before he went out to the bus: his tux wasn’t tailored to perfectly fit him, but it might as well have been, as good as he looked. He grabbed his homecoming sash and crown off the table by the front door and stepped out.

A Justin Timberlake song was blasting on the bus’s speakers when Jason climbed aboard. The bus was so saturated with the smell of cigarettes and pot that Jason considered taking his own car instead to homecoming, but he didn’t act on that thought, because he didn’t want to miss out; it wouldn’t be a celebration if he were alone.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Homecoming King, gracing us with his presence!” somebody said.

“Not to mention Mr. Quarterback,” another person chimed in.

The entire bus gave Jason a round of applause.

As a lark, Jason removed his crown, bowed, and said, “Thank you, my humble subjects. Your king greatly appreciates your admiration,” though he really did enjoy the attention and praise.

“Shut up, you douche!” Eric said. He threw a balled-up napkin at Jason.

“Hey, don’t be throwing your used cum rag on me, fag,” Jason retorted.

“Over here, babe!” Emily hollered. She waved her arm in the air to make herself distinguishable from the crowd.

Jason followed her swaying arm all the way to the back of the bus, but there were no free seats.

“We can share a seat,” Emily said. She hiked up her dress, so she wouldn’t step on it and then stood up from her plushy black leather seat. “I can—oh no! Your tux!”

“What? What’s wrong with it?” Jason asked, checking his tux to make sure there were no rips, tears, or stains on it. If there were, he would have to pay to fix them, and he didn’t want to shell out any more money for something he was going to wear for only one night.

“It’s black. You were supposed to find a powder-blue tux to match my dress,” she reminded him.

“I know, baby, but I couldn’t find one in my size. You know how muscular I am.” (Jason heard someone—probably Eric—snicker.) Jason had actually forgotten all about finding a blue tux—not that he had ever cared to find one in the first place—but he could see that Emily was pissed, and he didn’t want to make her anymore upset at him than she already was. He did want to have sex tonight. “Forgive me?” he asked, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes.

“Yeah. I guess it won’t be that big of a deal if we don’t match. And at least you got my corsage.”

Damn
. He had forgotten about that too.

“You did, didn’t you? You got my corsage?”

“Baby—”

“Ooh, somebody’s in the doghouse!” Eric teased, following it up with a couple of howls.

“It’s fine,” Emily said through clenched teeth. She sat back down. Jason wanted to ask her whether they could still share a seat, but he knew what her answer would be.

“Jason, you can sit over here, man,” Collin offered.

“Collin!” Amy squeaked as Collin picked her up and sat her on his lap, so Jason could have her seat.

“Thanks, man.” Jason sat down. He saw Amy glowering at both him and Collin out of the corner of his eye, and he saw Emily glowering at him from across the bus. He fucked up. He fucked up royally, and he knew it. Fucking whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted, however he wanted had made Jason rusty when it came to the finer points of dating, such as caring what a girl thinks and paying attention when she talks. He needed to make a bold, grand gesture to fix this mess, so he could have a good homecoming, and he had to do it quickly, but what could he come up with on such short notice that would have even a snowball’s chance in hell of working?

The school gymnasium, where the homecoming dance was being held, had been decked out with streamers and balloons in the school’s colors. An iPod attached to surround-sound speakers was the musical entertainment in lieu of an actual DJ or band, although the school’s marching band would play for the homecoming king and queen’s first dance.

“Baby, I really am sorry,” Jason said as they entered the gym, trying to apologize for the umpteenth time for his absentmindedness, but Emily was not in a forgiving mood.
It
’
s fine
, she’d say every time he expressed regret for his transgressions, but her face and body language said it was anything but fine. Under normal circumstances, if a girl tried this shit with him, he’d just say, “Fuck it,” and move on, but he still needed Emily for his perfect homecoming.

“Look, there’s some punch. You want me to get you some punch?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“There’s only two couples in line right now for pictures. You wanna go get our pictures taken?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Ugh! Being attentive and sweet wasn’t getting him anywhere, and it wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed that bold, grand gesture, but he couldn’t think of anything. Until he saw the band setting up their instruments for the first dance of the homecoming king and queen, that was.

“Excuse me, baby.” Jason left Emily’s side and made his way over to the band. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey!” they all said.

“Great game last night, my man. You owned those City High guys,” one of the trumpet players said.

“Yeah, I really loved that move you did in the end where you pushed one of the City players out of your way, he went flying, and then you jumped to make the last touchdown,” a saxophone player enthused.

Jason smiled. He loved meeting his fans, even if they were band geeks.

“Thanks, guys. I was wondering if you could do me a favor. It’s about the homecoming-king-and-queen dance. I wanna do something special for Emily.”

“Yeah, sure, anything,” they responded.

“It’s time for the homecoming-king-and-queen dance,” Ms. Kallens announced via microphone, twenty minutes later. She was standing on the stage. Jason and the band stood behind her. “But our homecoming king has something special planned for our queen.” She handed the microphone to Jason, prompting a round of applause from the other students, and left the stage.

“Can we have Ms. Bulstride, our beautiful homecoming queen, come up to the stage, please?” Jason entreated.

Emily walked timidly to the stage, a mousy look on her face.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” Jason teased.

The other dance attendees laughed, and Emily laughed too, although hers appeared to be out of nervousness rather than amusement like everyone else’s.

When Emily made it to the stage, Jason glided to her, took her hand in his, and gave her his best puppy-dog eyes as he said, “I know that homecoming hasn’t been everything you hoped it would be and that it’s my fault, so I hope this makes up for it.”

The band began playing “The Look of Love.” When the time came, Jason added his off-key vocals. He danced with Emily, who was laughing at him—as was everyone else—but he could tell by the look on her face that his gesture touched and impressed her. To further reel her in, he whispered, “I love you, Emily,” in her ear after he finished his song. Girls always fell for that shit, and the expression on Emily’s face demonstrated she was no exception to the rule.

Emily kissed Jason, motivating the crowd to say, “Aww!” and cheer. Emily’s lips tasted like cherries.

“Well, we better get our pictures taken before we go,” Emily said, smiling. She took Jason by the hand and led him off the stage toward the other side of the gym, where the photographer was taking pictures. There were four couples in line, but they let Jason and Emily cut to the front because of the great game Jason had played last night and the grand romantic gesture he had just made on stage, and because they were homecoming king and queen.

Jason and Emily stood in front of a blue backdrop, holding hands and smiling for the camera, their crowns and homecoming sashes lending an extra touch of elegance to their formalwear.

“Perfect, guys,” the photographer said. He snapped a photo of them. And he was right: they looked perfect.

The party bus was a much happier affair for Jason the second time around for two reasons: one, Emily was grinding on his lap; and two, he’d drunk six beers. (His friends were having a good time too: Eric was groping some girl—Jason couldn’t see whom—and Andy was chatting up . . . Alyson Manning? Every dog had his day, he supposed.) But for some reason, he wasn’t actually happy. Everything had gone according to plan: he had led his team to victory during the homecoming game, he had won homecoming king, and he had gotten the hottest girl in school as his queen and as his date for the homecoming dance, yet he wasn’t satisfied. He didn’t understand how that was possible. How could he have gotten everything he had wanted, but feel that there was something missing?

Just then Emily leaned back and whispered, “My mom’s working third shift at the hospital tonight,” in his ear while rubbing his leg. Finally. After almost two weeks of dealing with Emily’s bullshit, he was going to get laid. Not a kiss. Not a hand job. Laid. He had found what was missing. What were his victories without a round (or three) of celebratory sex? Emily drew her mouth toward his, and they made out.

“Ew!” and “Get a room, lovebirds!” were their friends’ responses to their kissing.

The party bus dropped Jason and Emily off at Emily’s place twenty minutes later. They flew up the stairs, toward Emily’s bedroom, kissing and groping along the way. The door to Emily’s bedroom banged open. Jason and Emily stumbled over the threshold, their bodies so fused that they looked like conjoined twins. They began clawing at each other’s buttons and zippers, Jason going so fast that his hands were a blur (he was that horny!) and Emily going at a more glacial pace.

“You know, baby, I’m really impressed with you,” Emily said in between the kissing and the undressing. “Most guys wouldn’t work as hard as you to fix their screwups, but you, you really went that extra mile to make it up to me every time you hurt me, and I really appreciate that.”

“And I appreciate you.” Jason took off his pants and boxers as he talked to speed things along. He had already undressed Emily.

“I love you,” Emily said.

“I love you, too.” Jason picked Emily up and carried her over to the bed, kissing her the whole time, so she wouldn’t keep delaying his prize. He laid her on the bed and positioned himself on top of her. Her warm, naked body felt like heaven against his as they dry humped. Jason swirled his fingers inside of Emily a couple of times and then replaced his fingers with his dick. Normally, he liked to give his women more of a warm-up—for his sake and theirs—but he was so excited that he dispensed with the formalities. A dozen missionary thrusts later, and Jason had come inside Emily. She snuggled him, stroking his chest. Jason feigned snoring, so she wouldn’t try to talk to him. Their session wasn’t what he had hoped it would be (he had planned on talking Emily into doing some kinky stuff, such as oral and hair pulling), but need would do that to a guy. He still had tomorrow morning before he ended things with Emily. Maybe when they woke up, they could try some kinky stuff.