I  hate Mondays. 

And it's not because it's the first day after the weekend and my sleeping pattern's all fucked up. Or because I have Biol first up and I don't have Music *at all*.  Or because I always miss the first bus and wind up late for homeroom.  I mean sure, it's all those things, but the thing I really hate about Monday's is that they're *always* disappointing.  

Monday is the beginning of a new week, and at the beginning of something new you expect differences, changes, improvements.  It's like waiting all year for your birthday and then finding out that being seventeen feels exactly the same being sixteen.  It sucks.  But it doesn't stop you counting down the days til your next birthday. 

So it's another Monday.  The Monday after Taylor's party to be precise, and getting up at 7am is a *real* shock to the system.  And guess what else - it's pissing down rain.  Great.  People think sunny Queensland is summer 12 months a year, well "beautiful one day perfect the next" my *arse*!  But ya know what, somehow, despite all this crap I was in a really good mood.  A ridiculously good mood. 

I was gonna see Daniel again. 

That thought was what kept me humming the whole bus-ride to school.  That thought stopped me from swearing when I was being pelted with raindrops the size of marbles all the way to homeroom.  That thought stopped me from exacting any revenge on Lila when I sat behind her during roll call. 

Yep, I was gonna see Daniel again. 

After absently doodling his name all over my notebook, I left for Biol early and staked out his homeroom.  I nonchalantly fed twenty-cent pieces with agonising slowness into the coke machine outside room R4, eyes on the door as the students filed out.  No Daniel.  //Damn, where is he?//  I stayed as long as I could to see if he'd emerge, but even after making myself late enough to Biol that I scored a dirty look from Ms Jacobs, he was a no show.  Prick. 
 

So I don't go to school on Mondays.  It's not religious or anything, I just could never stand getting up early on a Monday morning so one day I just went "Fuck this!" and stayed home.  And it worked so nicely I decided to do it every Monday, and sometimes on Fridays, or Tuesdays or just whenever I damn well felt like it. 

Did the teachers notice? Yeah. Was there anything they could do about it? Well, no. I mean what are they gonna do - send me home? 

So I'm on my Rostered Day Off school and I'm kicking around the house kinda bored.  (My folks both work shifts so they don't really have to deal with my wagging.)  I coulda gone and visited Ben or Karl (they gave up on going to school any day of the week a while back) but I didn't much feel like getting stoned, playing Doom or watching porn, so it left me at kind of a loose end. 

After a couple of failed attempts to work on songs (I've got a 2nd hand fender I've taught myself how to play) and making the none-too-shocking discovery that daytime television totally bites, I actually started thinking about going in late.  I'd only missed two periods, if I left now I'd make it in time for Phys Ed.  

//I guess I could use the exercise.//  I thought as I donned the drab grey shorts of the Mabel Park uniform that made my legs look decidedly skinny.  Ugh.  I hate the way I look in those shorts. 

Now let me clarify something here.  My decision to attend classes on a Monday for the first time in about, oh about a year and a half, had absolutely nothing to do with Darren.  

I'll admit, I'd thought about him, I mean you don't just kiss someone and forget all about them.  And the whole situation had been pretty embarrassing, it's not like I could just put it behind me.  That's why I'd been thinking about it so much, why I could remember in such vivid detail what he smelled like (an expensive cologne - the kind they only sell in Myer) what he tasted like (doublemint gum and cola) what he felt like (the softest silk). 

It wasn't intentional that I was thinking about him last night when I was... well, taking care of business.  His face just kinda floated into my head, dislodging the Meg Ryan fantasy and I got to thinking about how nice his lips felt and how good it was to have his tongue in my mouth.  And I wondered what he'd look like naked.  Probably lean, with soft pale skin.  I bet he has a nice cock.  But then, you think about all sorts of weird shit when you're wanking off.  It doesn't mean anything.  I'm no fairy.  

I had to sprint to the bus, so as not to miss the ten past or else I'd have to wait another hour (Clark's Bus Service *sucks*). I wasn't rushing to get there, I mean I honestly didn't give a crap either way whether I got to school or not, I just hate waiting around. 

And I *did* have to pass the Performing Arts block to get to my locker.  Just cos that's where Darren and the other drama/music kids hang out doesn't mean I was passing through on purpose.  I wasn't looking for him.  I was just looking to see if Vee was there, you know, to say hi. 

It wasn't my fault he saw me first.  
 

By recess I'd given up hope.  He wasn't late, he wasn't missing - he just wasn't coming.  Crap. 

After subtly grilling Vee in Drama (she seems to be the only one at school who knows *anything* about Daniel) she was kind enough to inform me that Dan always takes Mondays off.  Just like that. No reason for it, he just refuses to attend. 

Have I mentioned recently that I hate Mondays? 

I was massacring a vegemite sandwich from my packed lunch, //Die Vader! Die!// cursing the rain that had soaked through my uniform and frozen my shoulders, contemplating ways of making Lila suffer when I saw him. 

He was loping through the schoolyard past the PA Block, looking extra-lean in the decidedly unfashionable Mabel Park uniform.  Shirt untucked, of course, and I'll tell ya - he looked a damn sight better in it that I ever have. 

I know he saw me.  Sure, he looked away immediately, but for a split second our eyes locked and it was like the whole world went into slow motion.  Besides, I saw him stumble.  He'd been so busy *not* looking back at me he tripped and almost fell on his delectable-looking arse.  And I almost busted something trying not to laugh at him. 

Then he looked at me.  Directly at *me* - not at something above my head, or with unfocussed eyes like he was lost in thought, a genuine "Engage: We have eye contact" Look.  It was a total invitation.  I was just working up the nerve to go over and talk to him when... 

"You are *so* hot for him." 

Lila decided to remind me of all the reasons I shouldn't. 

"Am not."  I barked back insolently, as she settled beside me with her tuckshop gatherings. I silently cursed her godawful timing and, stole a final glance at my golden-haired babe, promising myself I'd take this up again.  Later. 
 

Jesus H. Christ, you'd think with all the money the government is sinking into education these day that they'd be able to afford level playing fields in the schoolyard.  Bloody pothole nearly had me on my arse, and right in front of Darren too.  Well right in front of the whole damn schoolyard, not just Darren in particular. 

I wasn't focussing on him on purpose, it was just hard to ignore him when he was staring at me so hard.  And I know he wasn't staring cos my shirt was on backwards, or I had a sign stuck to my back, or cos I was wearing footy socks, he was genuinely checking me out.  Such a gay thing to do I spose, but the warm flush of embarrassment and misplaced pride wasn't unpleasant.  Hey, it *always* feels nice to have someone checking you out, even if it is a fag. 

I let my eyes linger on him a little, to give him something to chew over later, wondering if he'd come over.  Not that I wanted him to, I mean, that'd just be embarrassing for him when I'd have to turn him down.  //Sorry mate, I'm not into that, eh?//  I internally rehearsed.  

I was tossing up whether to go over and tease him a bit when Mr Becker accosted me wielding detention slips and I *really* started to regret coming late.  At least if you're absent the whole day you can give them that "sick" excuse.  Being late is harder. 

So that's why I was still on school grounds an hour after everyone else had gone home.  Fucking teachers and their fucking misguided attempts at discipline.  If I'd gotten out on time I wouldn't have missed the damn bus and got stuck walking home in the rain. 

I kicked a crumpled coke can across the soccer field, swearing.  I knew I shoulda stayed home. 
 

I couldn't concentrate all through choir rehearsal.  I knew he'd given me The Look and it was all I could think about.  Damn him.  And now I was gonna have to wait a whole day to see him again, that is, if he didn't plan on wagging tomorrow as well. 

I was just loping out of B Block, lamenting the Monday curse, and the unrelenting rain that had started at about quarter to four, when I saw him.  And suddenly the day started looking a whole lot better. 

It wasn't raining heavy, just a light mist, like the water spray mum used for ironing.  Still, he must have been out in it for a while cos it had soaked throught the entire top half of his uniform, darkening the colour to almost navy and making his shirt stick damply to the slender planes of his chest.His head was bowed, avoiding raindrops in the eyes, back curved over, hands lost in his pockets - the kind of posture I'd get in trouble for. (I could almost hear my mum's voice "Stand up straight, Darren! Do you want to end up in a neck brace?") 

I tossed up for twelve whole seconds before taking the opportunity fate had handed me and trotting up to him, the rain making my trainers horribly wet and freezing my toes. 

"I heard you didn't go to school on Mondays."  I challenged as I drew level with him. 

He stumbled a little before turning to face me.  The rain had plastered his hair to his face, the wetness turning his hair a deep gold, making his eyelashes look longer and darker.  He was fucking gorgeous. 

"So maybe I changed my mind." 

//I wish.// Was what I wanted to say.  When I actually spoke it came out as, 

"Sure ya did." 

We strolled on a little bit further, side by side, leaving wet footprints across the playing field.  A couple of times I started to say something, but when I'd fix my gaze on him I'd lose the words, so we pushed on for like 100 metres or so in (what I hoped) was companionable silence. 

"So where are ya going?"  I finally thought of something half decent to say. 

He shrugged. //Thought so.// I smiled, piping up,  

"Come on then." 
 

We walked for ages.  After a while I lost track of the streets and didn't know where the fuck we were any more.  Some place borderline rural (I guess Logan is the sticks) the road was unfinished and the houses were getting further apart and back from the road. 

We talked about all the regular shit - where ya from, how long ya been living here, school, family, blah blah blah.  He hates footy, I like soccer.  We listen to a lot of the same bands.  I showed him my appendix scar, he confessed he dyes his hair.  

We wound up in woop woop, probably invading private property, propped up on an old wooden fence overlooking a paddock, soaked to the skin so bad it didn't matter anymore.  And fucked if I know why, but instead of wondering where I was, how I was gonna get home, or if I was gonna drown or die of pneumonia, all I could think about was how shiny his hair looked all stuck wet to his face.  How the cold air flushed his cheeks rosy.  

I never thought a boy could be pretty. 

"Hey Dan..."  He ventured lightly, 

"Mmph." Was my response. 

"Ya know what happened at the party?"  We'd gotten to a comfortable point where he'd been speaking real easy and steady with me, but now his voice reverted back to slightly higher pitched nervous waver. 

The cluey part of me whispered at what he was getting at, the rest of me played dumb. 

"Which bit?"  

"You know, the dare."  

My heart stalled like a learner driver at the Queens Road traffic lights.  I wasn't sure if I'd been hoping for or dreading any mention of the kiss. 

"Yeah."  I had to force the words to come out level.  He tilted his head back, letting the rain hit him between the eyes, and I got stuck staring at him, head back, exposing the pale creamy skin of his throat. Fuck he was beautiful. 

"Were you really grossed out?" He turned those killer eyes on me then, a little notch of concern between them.  I swallowed a little, forcing a reply I could even pretend was casual. 

"Nah... just embarrassed, ya know?" 

Silence... for what seemed like years.  When I realised he was too chicken shit to keep going I pushed on, asking the question that'd kept me wondering all weekend. 

"Were you?" 

"Nup."  He said too quickly.  "In fact I..." He trailed off, looking down at his soaked trainers. 

"Hmm?"  I pressed, not sure if I was gonna like what he was about to say but fucked if I was gonna let him chicken out.  When he finally looked up at me his expression was so unsure it bordered on agony.  He finally spoke, 

"I want... to do it again." 
 

//I can't believe I actually said it.  Out loud.  Fuck oh fuck what does he think of me now?// 

"What?"  He blurted, staring at me so hard I began to wonder if I'd grown another head.  He blinked.  Blinked again, and I couldn't tell if he was just shocked or if he was trying to blink the rain out of his eyes. 

"You heard me, Dan."  I jumped down from the fence then, my feet making little squishing noises in the mud as I walked to stand in front of him.  I put one hand either side of him gripping the damp wood with chilled fingers, willing him to look at me, give me a sign, the ok to continue. 

He didn't move - not an inch.  Just sat there gaping at me, silent, like I'd just pressed his "mute" button. 

"I want to do it again."  I repeated.  Nice and slow, like my french teacher would when she was sounding out verbs for pronunciation.  I didn't want him to miss a syllable.  "Do you?" 

He stared at me and I stared back, so still the only thing moving on either of us were the raindrops trickling down our faces and bodies.  I watched one trace a delicate path from his forehead down his cheek, dripping onto his lips.  It looked kinda like a tear.  I wanted to lick it off his lips, taste it, see if it was salty.  I could hear his breath coming harsh and fast - panting. 

Internally, I took stock of the situation.  He hadn't laughed it off, or immediately gone "fuck off ya fairy", which is what I would have done in his position if I was gonna say no.  All I could think was he either wanted to kiss me and was scared to say so, or he was so mortifyingly disgusted any second now he'd come to his senses and slug me. 

Then his hands tightened on the fence plank and he jumped down with a loud splat, showering my already filthy legs with puddle spray.  We stood face to face, very, very close to each other and it struck me that he hadn't tried to break out of the circle of my arms that trapped him.  He hadn't tried to leave at all, actually. 

So I was right.  He wanted this. 
 

I was going to leave - honest. 

When I jumped down from the fence it was with every intention of taking off.  I'd decided that.  It's just when my feet hit the ground they kinda got stuck, and then my eyes locked with his and I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.  Besides, I didn't want to have to touch his arms to get out of them. 

OK, I'm lying.  

I didn't want to go.  I had no intention of leaving.  I wanted to stay and I wanted him to kiss me.  I must be a fag, a fairy, a poofter, cos I wanted to feel Darren's - another guy's - lips on mine.  There.  I said it. 

So I was standing there, water in my shoes, rain pouring down me, willing him to just fucking lean in and kiss me already, end this agony, grab my head and just...  //Do it.  Fucking hurry up and do it.  I'm not going to move first, you have to.// 

It was like that moment at the party all over again, standing there and waiting and breathing...  wishing like buggery for him to do it... until he was leaning in, incrementally closer and before I realised it, I was too. We both leaned forward until we were a breath away and I honestly can't say who kissed who, our lips just met and I was damn thankful. 

He tasted sweet and cool like lemonade on a hot day, and this time I submitted to the urge and let my arms curl around him, feeling the wet press of his body drift close to mine.  I didn't hold back on the kiss, not that I could've if I tried, letting our tongues play, my lips working his over. 

It wasn't like kissing a girl, it was totally different on a very basic level.  It was somehow harder, rougher, stronger, and so much more satisfying.  Not that it wasn't gentle too, his lips were soft, his hands were lightly caressing my hair.  I got lost in it, in him, we kissed full on for ages, my arms tightening around him, pressing our bodies close so I could feel his against mine.  Hard against hard.  And I liked it... so much. 
 

The last time I kissed him he tasted of beer and cigarettes, and warm maleness.  This time his mouth was cool and fresh, his lips cold with rain and when his tongue invaded my mouth I could taste the rain on him. Isn't there a song about that - kissing the rain? 

I almost fainted with relief when his lips met mine.  I'd wanted this so much for so long it scared me.  It scared me how easily he could destroy me if he turned me away. 

But he didn't.  His arms were around me, his tongue in my mouth, lips devouring mine.  It was perfect.  I pushed a hand through his dripping gold locks, and stroked my fingers down his cheek.  His skin was so cold, so smooth.  Our bodies pressed together, one of his legs pushing between mine, cold and wet all over except where our bodies touched, creating a damp warmth.  Not to mention another kind of heat that was slowly generating in a much lower region of my body. 

After an age our lips drew apart, but not far.  We stood close, his arms still clutching my back, my hands lightly resting on his waist.  Nose to nose, I could feel his breath on my lips, the caress of air chilling my skin.  My hands were on the waistband of his shorts, but under just one of my fingertips I could feel smooth bare skin instead of coarse material.  I felt a little smile curl the corner of my mouth as a wicked idea unfurled.  Keeping a close eye on his expression, (eyes half closed, lips slightly open, drawing slow shaky breaths) I moved my hand upwards, underneath his school shirt to caress the small of his back. 

When my touch grazed flesh he gasped, jumping violently away from my touch.  //Oh god, now you've done it Hayes!//  My hands sprang off his body, swift as if I'd been caught shoplifting. 

"Sorry."  I mumbled, stepping backward, away from the delicious heat of his body, unable to meed his eyes.  //Shit. I fucked it. I scared him off.// 

"What?" His silken voice sounded surprised.  Muddy, waterlogged sneakers took steps closer to me.  His hand on my cheek forced me to look at him. 

"It's not that you moron.  Your hands are fucken freezing!"  His fingers circled my wrist and drew my hand to the skin of my own back.  I jumped at the ice-cold touch. 

"See?"  He smirked. 

Relief flooded me with a hot warmth, and I laughed.  I laughed like a mental patient, gripping his arms and leaning my forehead against his shoulder.  I'm not sure if he was laughing at me or with me, but he laughed too.  Deep and rich, I loved the sound of it. 

The mirth subsided, and I felt his grip on my wrist relax, then release.  And this time when I felt the touch of ice cold fingers on my back they weren't my own.  I sucked in a shaky breath, shivering half with the shock of the cold and half with anticipation, as his fingers traced a hesitant path up my spine. 
 

He was as nervous as I was.  I didn't really notice that until I saw the look on his face after he tried to feel me up with those ice cubes disguised as fingers.  He'd gone from Superconfident to Scared Shitless in less than 3 seconds. And the way he laughed his arse off when he realised I'd acted out of self-preservation and not disgust - he sounded like some kind of exotic bird.  It was weirdly adorable. 

I'm not sure what made me place my own fingers on his back. Curiosity maybe, perhaps desire - hell if he could do why couldn't I?  His skin was cool, a little damp, but smooth, and extra soft to my almost numb fingers.  I flattened my hand on his back, stroking slowly upward, feeling hard muscle and bone. 

I fixed my eyes on his face, watching his pretty blue eyes drift shut, then open again a sliver as his head tilted back.  And he looked more sensual and seductive in that moment than any centrefold.  My other hand joined the first, sliding down his back, around his sides and up his chest.  Strange, it felt at first, to feel sleek hard muscle instead of soft curves.  But my body didn't seem to have any problem with it. In fact, the response from my lower regions was getting so full on I'd have to stop soon or risk embarrassing myself. 

//Just a little while longer.// I promised myself, as my fingers brushed over his nipples.  And his reaction to that brief touch blew me away.  He let out a loud moan, his body literally starting to shake.  Intrigued, I repeated the action and almost regretted it when he grabbed the back of my head so hard it was almost painful, dragging my head down to his and crushing my mouth with his in the most intense kiss of my so-far-short life. 

His tongue assaulted my mouth, kissing me so hard I could feel the graze of his teeth against my lips, the light pain only turning me on more.  One of his hands gripped my arse, sticking our bodies together, trapping my hands against his chest.  I didn't try to move them, instead choosing to continue my assault on his evidently sensitive nipples.  His response was to kiss me harder, his body writhing beneath my hands.  One of my legs was between his and he was rubbing himself against it.  I could feel his dick against my leg, but it didn't disgust me, just inspired me to copy his motions. 

Shocked at myself, but too horny to care, I kissed him back, my body joining his in the griding dance. I could feel myself getting hard against Darren's thigh, but I didn't care anymore if he noticed.  Besides, judging by his little moans and enthusiastic motions, I was fairly certain he was on his way to an impressive hard on as well. 

So I turned off my brain and decided to let the little head do the thinking for a bit. 
 

It was a outrageous, it was vulgar, I couldn't believe it was me.  I'd never been so blown away by my reaction to another person.  My god, he was kissing me with skill that was *dangerous* and there I was humping his leg like an untrained collie.  But fuck it felt *good*. 

I know I lost it for those few moments.  I was not on the planet.  I was kissing him like he was air I needed to breathe, and bringing us both to the point of nearly cumming in the middle of some bloody paddock!  Was I mad?  Yes. Did I care? Hell no!  I had Daniel in my arms and it was heaven. 

Heaven in the stroke of his tongue, the heat of his body, the mist of rain all around us, our bodies locked together.  Nothing else existed but us.  Nothing else until... 

The low rumble of a dodgy motor.  That agonised cough that one only gets from a car about to lose a muffler.  I had to force myself to draw away from Daniel's consuming mouth, his torturous hands, turning my head to see the battered 4x4 heading up a previously hidden driveway onto the property we were invading. 

I grabbed Dan's hand and dragged him down, out of sight beneath the tops of the long grass.  He ducked down so fast he almost fell on his arse in a puddle.  I just laughed.  He composed himself slightly, and glanced over at the highly untimely yellow mud-splattered intrusion.  He looked back at me with a crooked grin and I noticed his eyes were glazed over.  He looked cute, dopey and horny and I just wanted to wrap him up and take him home...  

"Close one."  He murmured, his voice way too deep for an eleventh grader. 

"Yeah..."  I am *such* a conversationalist. 

We waited, and listened, hearing the car pull up, the not-so-distant slam of car doors closing. 

"So what do we do now?"  He quirked an eyebrow at me, somehow managing to look cheeky and uncertain at the same time.  I caught my breath and tried not to focus on the uncomfortable heat in my shorts. 

"Well we can't stay here. " 
 

The boy had a point.  Our little rustic oasis had been invaded.  Darren shifted slightly on his heels, chewing one one lush swollen lip.  I just watched him, so deep in thought, looking so pretty.  I didn't know what to do.  I know what I wanted to do.  I wanted to kiss him again.  Some part of my mind that I was scared to think about wanted to do more than just kiss.  //Don't go there Jones, you know what they say about guys like that.//  Darren's voice interrupted my little self-scaring session. 

"We should go."  So soft it was almost a whisper. 

"Yeah."  I agreed.  Him to his place, me to mine, I bet.  I wondered if I'd be able to find my way home from here without getting hopelessly lost in the sticks.  Probably not. 

"Ya wanna go to my place?"  He was doing that look again.  That so-unsure-of-himself-it-bordered-on-agony look.  I pretended to think about for five whole seconds before putting him out of his misery. 

"All right.  Which way?"  His smile coulda lit up the whole of Logan. 

"Follow me." he grinned, taking off down the drive so quick I had to double-time to catch up to him. 

Side by side, we headed back to civilization.  He was walking kinda close, so every few steps the back of his hand would brush against mine.  Before I could talk myself out of it I took his hand in mine.  And I held it the whole way back to the main road.