This is the first story I've finished, I'll be working on a part two to finish it up, but this could be a standalone in case I leave for basic training before I get around to actually completing it. I have one more short story like this one that I've been working on, but I'm not sure if I'll get around to finishing and posting it. If I get good feedback from this submission and the community likes my style then I'll definitely be a more active writer, and I will take suggestions on stories too, although don't expect much because as I said, I only have 3 weeks before I leave. So without further ado, here is your story.
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Jason cut an imposing figure as he slung open the front door, the rubber buffer on the wall barely managing to prevent the handle on the opposite side from punching a neat hole in the plaster. His 6'3 frame froze as he saw a stranger sitting next to his mother in the living room. He immediately took stock of the man, short, pudgy, thin arms begrudging of the man's apparent weight, uneven stubble littering his face and neck, yet he wore what appeared to be a rather expensive outfit of casual business attire, a sharp contrast to the rest of his appearance.
On any other day, Jason may have handled the situation with a little more tact, before figuring out a way to politely excuse the man from his home, and if he proved to be stubborn, a not-so-polite way. However today simply wasn't one of those days.
Jason had nearly failed his math quiz, despite getting almost all of the answers correct. He didn't need to write out every step of the semi-complex equations, most of the solutions he could simply work out in his head after a moment or two. The teacher, of course, accused him of cheating, Jason vehemently denied any claims, stating that he was simply smart enough to do them in his head. He did however call into attention the few problems that he did in fact have to use pencil and paper for, yet the teacher simply donned an air of arrogance and rebuffed his defense.
Understandably, Jason was peeved. This went on until he had finally had enough and snapped after one of the teachers insulting comments, "You expect me to believe a dumb jock like you was able to do these equations in his head and finish faster than over half of the class? You're lying, even I couldn't do this as quickly as you and I have a PhD."
Jason raised his voice in response to the insult, his anger getting the best of him, "How is it MY fault that you're too much of a FUCKING RETARD to do SIMPLE math in your goddamn head?!"
The teacher, unused to being called such names or being in the proximity of such harsh language, became red faced and began to stutter, much to the classes amusement, before screeching out that Jason was to immediately report to the office and not come back into his class.
Deciding that he was already in trouble, he threw caution to the wind, "Don't have to tell me twice, fucking asshole."
He returned to his seat and calmly grabbed his possessions, under the intense, awe-struck stares of the class, many of which were thinly veiled looks of lust from his female classmates. He stood up and smiled at no-one in particular before exiting the class and heading to his destination.
An hour later he was thoroughly expelled for the next week, and per his boss's orders, Jason's teacher had graded his test early, giving him a 67, one point above failing. If that wasn't bad enough, what he encountered upon exiting the school just fouled his bad mood even further. Bryce Miller, a starting wide receiver on the varsity football team had his forearm pressed against a much younger boys chest, keeping him firmly pinned to the lockers.
Jason would be considered a jock by many, based solely on his appearance and aesthetic prowess, however he was not a bully, nor did he tolerate it, as many had come to learn from picking on those less fortunate or capable. Make no mistake though, Jason never tried to befriend any of the kids he protected, preferring to go it alone, drama free. Everyone respected his no-bullshit attitude and pragmatic thinking, no one would claim to be his best-friend, but no one had a bad word to say about him either, whether that was out of respect or fear, it was hard to tell.
As he got within a reasonable distance of the bully, he spoke, letting the anger dribble into his voice, "Bryce, let the kid go, or I will snap your fucking arm."
Bryce was visibly startled and a little shaken, seeing Jason Gray standing less than ten feet from him, visibly pissed off. Still, he hesitated, out of a false sense of bravado, or some other petty excuse to harass those clearly 'inferior' to himself. Whatever excuse he had was shattered the moment Jason took a step in his direction, flinching away from the underclassmen like hot coals had seared his skin. He stepped close to Bryce, looking slightly downwards to meet his eyes, "If I hear of you picking on these underclassmen one more goddamn time, I'm not gonna give you a warning before I put you in the fucking hospital, am I clear?"
Bryce, understandably, was sort-of terrified at the prospect, stammering out a hurried response, "Y-Yeah man it was just a joke, it won't happen again!"
"Good, now walk." Jason raised an arm in the direction of the main hall, and the jock hurriedly sped away as fast as possible while still retaining some shred of dignity. The boy who was pinned against the locker timidly expressed his gratitude, "T-Thank you, a lot, like really, I really mean it, thank you, you're so cool."
Jason's response was short and curt, as usual in these situations, once again raising an arm in the direction of the main hall, "Go to class kid."
Jason didn't spare him another glance, throwing open the aluminum-framed glass doors before making his way over to his most prized possession, a 1978 Ford Mustang, passed down as a broken hunk of scrap from his late grandfather. Jason however, had seen the potential, spending three years learning all about cars and working every job he could find, until he finally finished his work on the vehicle. Now, it was unrecognizable from the original heap of rust, sporting a glossy Wine Red custom paintjob, specialized leather seats that somehow refrained from becoming blisteringly hot in the summer, topped off by Mary Jane, a miniature hula girl hood ornament that he had found in his grandparents garage after their passing, that way he never forgot where his Baby came from. Even then, the silky purr of the engine wasn't enough to calm him out of his barely-suppressed rage, so when he threw open the door to his home and spotted a fat slob, obviously flirting with his mother, a strange feeling of jealousy spread it's way through his chest.
The man and his mother immediately turned at the sound of his entrance, the stranger giving an indignant look at Jason's greeting.
"Who the fuck are you?"
His mother immediately blushed and became embarrassed at her son's rudeness, the stranger however, donned an air of arrogant superiority and stood up to his full, unimpressive height, "Listen kid-"
Jason took a few quick steps to the couch where the two were seated, looking down at the man and interrupting him, barely controlled anger in his voice, "No you listen motherfucker, I've had a shitty day, and you're in my goddamn house, I'm telling you to get the fuck out. Before you make some smartass remark, I suggest you take a good look at the size difference between us."
The stranger did just that, subtly stepping backwards, away from Jason, before taking stock of the young man in front of him. His eyes widened a fraction, before discretely turning his gaze to his own figure, finding himself lacking in comparison to Jason's broad, muscular chest, accompanied by his thick arms, the veins prominently showing through his tight skin.
