Western Skies - Chapter 1: The Semester Begins
Hey everyone! This is my first submission, and I hope y'all enjoy it. It was finally time for me to put this story to (digital) paper, adding to the many other excellent series on this site. Thank you to the authors who have gone before me, helping me learn to find my voice. This chapter starts with a fair amount of exposition, but I promise it does heat up ;) Romance >>> just sex
If this is well-received, I have a vision for a multipart series. Stay tuned! Feedback appreciated!
Notice: This story contains male/male sexual activity between consenting individuals who are over age 18. If this is not something you are looking for, leave now! Always practice safe sex (even if not depicted in this work of fiction).
—D.
©2020 Zorse_D
***
A chilly wind buffeted me as I walked out of the classroom building, the crisp fall air swirling against a pale-blue sky. Shivering, I yanked up on the collar of my jacket. Today was a stark reminder that the morning's sunny weather was only a transient gift before the coming snows. Leaves fluttered by as I continued my march down a well-worn path cutting across the school grounds. Autumn in Montana was, to me, a spectacular treat to the senses: yellow groves of aspen streaked across the surrounding mountainsides as the weather began to turn cooler, a blessed reprieve from the heat and heaviness of the summers back home in Texas.
I plodded further down the path, sidestepping a group of my fellow senior football players, who were oblivious to any obstacles in their path. One of the boys managed to look around at the last second and catch my eye, managing a brief "hey" as he walked by.
Nice to recognize me, I'm on the team too, assholes, I thought, shaking my head and continuing on. Adjusting to life at the boarding school was an ongoing process. Coming from my home just outside Dallas, the open spaces and towering peaks were at first discomforting to someone reared within the protective cocoon of rural Texas's tree-lined hills. Still, my new home for the school year was easily the most beautiful place I'd ever been. It felt invigorating to be out West; inspirational, almost. Snorting, I remembered that one of the biggest marketing factors for the pricey school was its location. I may have been a fish out of water here, but no one could deny its beautiful allure.
Back home, I had made it most of the way through my high school career on what seemed like cruise control; academics came easy to me, and I earned straight A's through junior year. But I loved to sweat, too, and always held my own as a running back on the local high school football team. I was only five-eight, but built strongly from my years working summers on my grandparents' farm, throwing hay bales and riding spirited colts. Nothing could shape a body quite like growing up doing manual labor...and it also taught me the discipline and work ethic I applied to both school and sports.
Texas may have been home, but Montana is where my dad was from. Why he decided to leave his mountain home for college down South, eventually going to law school and finding work in Dallas, I still do not know. But I was thankful he found a kindred spirit in my mom, who was raised on a farm about an hour from the city.
As an only child, life back home was all I wanted it to be. Friday nights were for football games, and Saturdays were for helping my grandpa on the farm, riding horses and fixing fence before bonfires with friends. It was who I was and I was content with it.
My mom and dad got divorced during my junior year of high school. It was hard at first, but things didn't change too much for me, other than my mom and I moving from town back to the farm. That was fine by me, especially since I didn't have to hear my parents' constant bickering anymore.
During the divorce, my dad moved home to Montana. H started work at some snobby law firm in Bozeman, catering to all the rich transplants moving to the state, or something like that.
So there I was, finishing my junior year with nary a disruption. Life can change fast, though. Sometimes it was almost too fast for my teenage brain to comprehend. Last days of school are usually full of relief at the end of homework and excitement for the summer to come. Usually.
Dad had flown back out to meet me that day, which was a big surprise. Then he destroyed all I had ever known, telling me I was going to Montana at the end of the summer. Mom had an opportunity to go down to Australia to work with some famous horse trainer, and he was enrolling me at some elite destination school to finish out my high school career "with a bang," as he described it. To me, it wasn't a bang as much as a gut-punch.
He went on and on about the benefits of the move: meeting new well-connected people my own age, "broadening my life experience," and seeing more of the beautiful state where he had grown up. Since my dad was traveling more than half the time for work, it made perfect sense for me to go to a boarding school, even though he'd be in Bozeman "to see me here and there." A friend of my dad was on the school board and had gotten me a partial academic scholarship, and the rest of the tuition we could afford, thanks to his new job. It was all arranged.
Deep down, it sounded like a great opportunity for him to cast me aside while simultaneously patting himself on the back.
My summer was a blur of misery at losing my entire life, full of rage at having had everything pulled out from underneath me and replaced at a moment's notice without my consent. But I was going to Montana. Despite my wide-eyed worry at the unknown future before me, a glimmer of hope found root inside my mind — a budding excitement for future adventures in a new place.
Goodbyes were said and bags were packed. Then I was gone.
My heart was beating out a manic tempo the day I moved into my new dorm and dove head first into my new life. I started a week early, jumping into football summer camp before classes. Throwing myself into the physical activity kept me sane that week. It brought some level of routine and familiarity to my life, letting me meet fellow athletes and discover Bozeman without the pressure of schoolwork.
I wasn't exactly the most popular kid, being new and kind of quiet, with below-average family wealth and no famous parents. It suited me fine, though, and I made friends fast enough in the dorm and on the football team. In a 400-student school I was a shoe-in on varsity, but most of the star athletes were still excluding me outside of when we had to run plays together during practice. I expected the cool treatment would continue until I proved myself during our games.
Today was finally Friday, the end of my first week of classes. The uncertainty of the unknown was finally gone; it was just another high school, but it was also my entire life inside and outside of the classroom. I'd settled into a routine, calming down and realizing that things would be okay. Being the new kid at the school wasn't really that big of a deal.
I shook myself out of my introspective reverie as I climbed up the stairs to the dorm and out of the brisk wind. It was dinnertime and most of my teammates had headed out or to the cafeteria after practice. Since my dad was in town for the first time since the semester began, he'd asked that I meet him for dinner. I was on my way back to my room, in a rush to change clothes and head back out. My roommate, Evan, was already gone somewhere, probably the cafeteria, so I threw on jeans and a button up without any distractions before rushing back out. I made my way towards the main road into the school, watching as as a group of star players meandered slowly back from the direction of the cafeteria. Expecting the usual treatment, I continued on before hearing, "Hey! Kaden, where you off to?"
Mildly surprised, I turned around and saw it was Luke who'd spoken and was now walking towards me, away from his friends. My heart skipped a beat. Everyone knew Luke. He was a wide receiver on the football team and one of the most popular kids at the school. At about six feet tall, lean, and with bright gray eyes, he was undoubtedly blessed with good looks. As I settled into school and watched my fellow students, it was easy to see how Luke's presence and looks made it effortless for him to command the attention of everyone around him. It was the natural order of things in high school, even an elite, private one.
And now, his attention was focused on me. He peered inquisitively through a lock of the wavy, light brown hair that hung down to the middle of his neck. My eyes unconsciously wandered over his athletic frame. Even covered in a light jacket, I could see his biceps pressed against the thin fabric. I finally chanced a look at his face, where a curious, almost mischievous grin was fixed on me. Luke looked almost amused.
It took a moment for me to find my voice. "Hey man, just running out to meet my dad for dinner, he's in town for my birthday. What are y'all up to?" I was puzzled by his sudden attention after two weeks of no more than occasional interaction on the practice field or around the school grounds.
"Happy birthday, man! We were just going up to hang out in my room." His voice was a soft tenor, easy on the ears. It got softer still as he said, "Will got some whiskey from his brother. It'll be a good time. You should come by when you get back. Room 315."
I was quietly elated at the inclusion, but kept my voice level when I replied. "Yeah dude, sounds great. I'll swing by for sure. Thanks!" He graced me with another of his smiles, and hesitated before turning away, his gaze briefly touching mine with an almost uncomfortable intensity. My stomach did a strange somersault as I turned away. He had the look of a caged animal, both fearful and raging and longing with desire to escape. Whatever it was, it was confusing and gave me an unfamiliar pang of anxiety as I continued towards the road.
To this day, I still don't know what inspired me to look over my shoulder as I kept walking. The star jocks were back to walking and talking, except for one. Luke had his head turned around over his shoulder. Staring at me. It might have been a trick of the fading light, but I swore he blushed before quickly turning his head and hurrying off. My already rising anxiety reached a pounding crescendo inside me as I walked over to my dad's car.
What the actual fuck was the only coherent thought I could assemble. As I slipped into the passenger seat and made small talk with my dad, the encounter hung heavy on my mind, confusion and excitement battling for control of my emotions.
***
"You seem distracted. I know this is all new and you're probably still angry at me for it, but I promise it'll be good for you. You might even enjoy it. That aside... you should know that the cow on your plate is already dead. You don't need to keep stabbing it."
