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20 Nisan 2023, 03:17
Disclaimer -- Miles and I, as well as the other students involved in this story, were all 18 years old and seniors in high school at the time the event described below took place.
*
Miles and I grew up together. We lived within about 5 blocks of each other; went to the same elementary school, and our moms took turns carpooling us to/from school. We also hung out after school at the library or in Miles's basement playing videogames.
When we were young and innocent, we were all socially "equals". However, as we transitioned into junior high and then high school, the natural order sorted Miles clearly into the A-list due to his inherent good looks, athletic ability, and his parents' vocations. I, although intellectually gifted, lacked athletic ability and did not come from an affluent family, and thus was relegated to either B-list or C-list.
Both of us wound up going to a college prep school in the city. Miles quickly fit in among the 'cool kids'. Admittedly, I probably would not have been able to hang with the cool kids on my own merits, but I rode Miles's coattails. We were best friends, and he did his best to include me, although I was aware at times of rumblings, "why does James have to be here?"
Our high school's dress code was sport coat and tie for the males, and dress shirt and plaid skirt for the females. There were only occasional exceptions, such as during Spirit Week, when 'casual clothes' were allowed, depending on the theme of the day. Also, on Fridays, members of the football team were allowed to wear their football jerseys, given how Friday night football was essentially "life" in Pennsylvania.
Miles had been our football team's quarterback since sophomore year. In our junior year, he led us to our first PIAA championship. From that point on, Miles was essentially "king" in our high school.
In addition to his athletic talent (Miles was a captain on our football, basketball, and baseball teams), Miles had inherent good looks. His parents were of Italian and Portuguese background, lending his skin a flawless golden caramel hue year-around. I, like most of the rest of my class, more resembled the pasty white Irish Catholics that comprise most of Scranton's demographic.
I never really perceived Miles as cocky, but I may have been blinded by my lifelong friendship with him. Granted, I was aware that Miles could get away with things that other students could not. For example, every once in a while, a 'rebel' in our class would come to school with no socks on. This was against the dress code, and Mr. Angeli (the football coach and hall monitor) seemed to have an uncanny ability to notice such violations, which the resulted in the offending boy having to spend the afternoon in detention writing "I will follow the school dress code under god" 100 times on the whiteboard.
But, Miles seemed to never get in trouble. For example, on football Fridays, the team was permitted to wear their football jerseys over their shirt/tie, rather than wear a sport coat. In the fall of our senior year, I was over at Miles's house on Thursday, the night before our team's season opener versus rival Abington Heights. I was sitting on the floor in his room and Miles said to me, "Look at this."
I turned around and Miles was shirtless. But, at his neck was the collar of a dress shirt and what appeared to be the top of a tie. Now 18 year's old, Miles had really begun to grow into a man's physique. With his tan complexion, well-formed pecs, and a flat stomach with a few hints of ripples from emerging abs, Miles could easily have passed as a Chippendale. "What is that?" I said, laughing.
Miles said, "I'm going to wear it to school tomorrow under my football jersey."
"What? You're crazy!" I replied. "You'll never get away with that".
"No one will even notice," Miles responded.
I don't know if he was being serious or being delusional. Our team's football jerseys had solid fabric over the shoulders and down the sleeves, but like most football jerseys, they consisted of an open mesh from the mid-chest level down.
"Try the football jersey on," I suggested to him.
Miles went to his closet and pulled out his football jersey. As he lifted his arms up to pull on the jersey, I couldn't help but stare at his armpits. I don't know what it is about his armpits, but they had the softest, silkiest wisps of hair. Being jet black, they contrasted nicely with his caramel skin. Once the jersey was on, Miles stood there in front of me. "What do you think?" he asked.
"Yeah, no one will know you don't have a shirt on under it," I said sarcastically. The shirt collar that Miles had cut from one of his shirts was white. Our away jerseys were white. But, through the various holes in the mesh jersey, the 'background' color was clearly beige. If there was any doubt why beige color was popping out through the holes, it would be erased when one looked towards his chest and noticed two darker brown circles also showing through the jersey. Büyükesat Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/buyukesat-escort/) "Maybe you should put band-aids over your nipples," I suggested.
"Nah, I'm not going to do that," Miles responded.
The next day at school, I was sure Miles was going to get in trouble. Surely, Mr. Angeli would notice Miles's dress code violation. Surely some teacher would notice Miles's nipples popping through the jersey. But no one said anything. Maybe I was the only one who had a bit of a fascination with Miles?
I couldn't believe it. Miles got away with it. Yeah, I know he's the quarterback of the football team, so it wasn't likely that he would get detention on the day of our game with Abington Heights, but still I thought he would at least be confronted and told to put a shirt on under his jersey. But...nope. And that night we demolished AH 35-0.
The following week, I asked Miles if he was going to push his luck again. "Sure, nobody will say anything," Miles responded.
When Miles did it the second time, prior to our game before North Pocono, various of my classmates noticed. But, oddly, no teacher nor the principal said anything. With all the other males in shirts, ties, and sport coats, Miles was sitting in class and walking through the halls in a mesh shirt, with his tan skin clearly foiling any ruse of conformity that his fake collar was supposed to imply.
The next week was our home opener versus Dunmore. Again, I was at Miles's house on Thursday night as he 'modeled' his jersey for the next day. Our home jerseys were purple. Given the dark color, the mesh jersey did not make it so apparent that Miles was shirtless underneath. However, our home jerseys were also cut shorter...more like half shirts or crop tops. I guess the thought was that the dark purple jerseys could absorb heat in the hot August summers, so it was best to 'ventilate' them by making them open at the bottom. Miles stood before me. While the fake collar and chopped off clip-on tie knot might make one think he was wearing a shirt and tie...but only if they were only looking at him from the chest up. The jersey stopped just above his navel. There were a good 4 inches of caramel skin showing beneath the bottom of his jersey, accentuated by a silky black treasure trail that flowed from his belly button and disappeared into his pants. "You'll never get away with it," I said.
"Sure I will," he responded.
And he was right. By this time, it wasn't possible that anyone in the senior class didn't know that Miles was walking around school shirtless under his football jersey. His white Calvins waistband jutted out an inch above his dress pants, providing a jarring contrast to his bronze skin. Even when standing, his jersey could not close the gap, leaving 3 to 4 inches of bare skin exposed to the air. Yet again, not a single teacher, nor the principal, said anything the entire day.
The following week was another home game, and again Miles came to school wearing just his purple jersey and his fake collar. Our school ran on a six day "mod" schedule, and this Friday equated to "Day 6". As such, Miles and I had gym second period. Technically, any of our student athletes were exempted from gym if it fell on the day of a scheduled sports event, but Miles never sat out. He was an athletic kid who enjoyed sport, and 30 minutes of dodgeball in the morning wasn't going to tire him out and compromise his ability to dominate on the football field that evening.
Gym class was uneventful. As usual, gym ended 10-15 minutes before 'the bell' in order to allow us to shower and get changed. Miles and I had our gym lockers next to each other, one of the perks of my being his best friend since age 5. On the other side was Steve, one of the wide receivers on our team. Steve was a decent athlete, a tall guy. He was actually much better at basketball, but was a member of his football team simply because of his height. When Miles had gone into the shower, Steve grabbed Miles's gym shorts and underwear from the bench. Steve smiled at me and asked, "Do you think we should hide these?"
I looked at Steve. I must confess I liked the idea. But, I also liked Miles. I was conflicted between my loyalty to my best friend and the rush of what seemed like an awesome prank. I debated internally for a few seconds, and then gave Steve a nod of my head, "Go for it!"
Steve had chosen not to participate in gym class that day, so he was already dressed. He took Miles's underwear and gym shorts and put them into his own backpack. Then, he left the locker room to wait out in the gym lobby for the bell to ring, directing us to go to our next class.
Miles came back from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. I enjoyed looking at Miles's chest and the ripples of his triceps. Miles never seemed to notice, or he simply didn't care. We had been best friends for so long. He had never questioned my sexuality, and honestly neither had I. While I certainly felt Miles Elvankent Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/elvankent-escort/) was attractive, I wasn't per se attracted to Miles. Rather, I had an admiration for him. It was a little bit of envy. I wanted to be Miles.
Miles asked me, "Dude, where's my underwear? Did you take them?"
"No. Why? Are they missing?" I responded.
"Are you sure you didn't take them?" he asked me.
"No. I swear," I replied.
Miles opened my locker and took a peek in. "Fuck," he said, "the bell's gonna go off any second. I need to get dressed."
Miles dropped the towel to the floor and pulled on his pants. I watched as his zipped up the pants, his penis shaft and thick tufts of pubic hair disappearing as he zipped up. Then he pulled the fake collar over his head, and pulled the football jersey on.
Brrrrrrrnng. Brrrrrrrng. The buzzer sounded. Miles and I were the last two in the locker room. Calculus was our next class, and it was all the way across the building. We only had four minutes to get there.
"Fuck!" Miles exclaimed. He tossed his socks and his belt into his locker. "I don't have time to put these on." "Let's run!"
In each of our classes, we always had assigned seats by last name. With Miles's last name starting in K, he was generally the 3rd or 4th seat in the middle row. With my last name starting with P, I was generally in the 4th seat of the 4th row. This was the case in calculus, as I sat one seat behind him in the next row.
I could not focus on what Mr. Bergman was saying that day. We were doing integration from zero to infinity or something. I just kept looking down at Miles's feet. There, resting in penny loafers, were his tan ankles. I know it's just ankles, and it's hard for me to explain why I was so entranced. Of course, everyone in math class knew that Miles was shirtless under his jersey, and I'm sure a few noticed that he wasn't wearing any socks. But, I sat there knowing that he wasn't wearing any underwear. I found myself daydreaming...imagining that I was a fly...landing on Miles's ankle and then slowly crawling up inside his pant leg...unencumbered all the way up to his dick and balls. At that time, only Miles and I (and, of course, Steve) knew that he was commando. "What would the other students think if they knew?" I wondered to myself.
As we were leaving math class, I found myself exiting behind Miles. He had swung his backpack up over one shoulder, which caused his football jersey to ride up, scrunched under the bag. I found myself looking down at the small of his back. But, then I noticed there was even more to look at. Without a belt, Miles's pants had sunk low on his hips. Without any Calvins, there was a clear one inch of a lightly fuzzed butt crack exposed, then plunging into darkness.
Vinny happened to be walking out next to me. I turned and pointed at Miles's butt to Vinny. Vinny's eyes got wide, and he looked at me and licked his lips. Vinny was the only openly out gay student in our class. He was extremely flamboyant, so there was no chance of even plausible deniability. And while he was shunned by some, Vinny embraced his homosexuality. I had only recently started to get to know Vinny as a person. The fault was mine. As I was still 'discovering' my sexuality, I had feared being "guilty by association" if I were to have a gay friend.
However, Vinny had helped me study for AP English, the only class in which I really struggled in high school. In between tutoring sessions, we got to bond a little, and I discovered that Vinny was a really cool person. It didn't matter that I knew nothing about the Grammys/Emmys and that he knew nothing about sports, we grew to be friends. Somewhere during the course of senior year, Vinny had revealed to me that he was jealous of me for being Miles's best friend. It was, at first, a strange revelation to me. Vinny acknowledged that he had a crush on Miles, which I guess was completely understandable. Vinny was jealous that I got to hang out with Miles all the time. And, Vinny lamented that in four years of high school, he had never once managed to be scheduled in the same gym class as Miles. Vinny knew that I got to see Miles naked at least once a week, and Vinny was jealous.
Fast forward a few months. Senior year of high school is beginning to wind down. One of the highlights of the year was always March 15. As a college prep school that prided itself in a strong liberal arts curriculum, with various classes in Latin and Greek, the 'Ides of March" was an oddly celebrated holiday. Other than spirit week, it was the only other time when we did not have to wear sport coat and tie. Instead, if we made a $5 donation (which the school gave to the local St. Francis soup kitchen), we could dress up as a Greek or a Roman.
Some guys went all out with fancy costumes, with metal breast plates, and elaborate leather lace up sandals. I had purchased a rather ordinary 'toga' costume online for about $30. It wasn't Beşevler Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/besevler-escort/) elaborate, nor was it terribly revealing, but at least I didn't have to wear a coat and tie. Generally speaking, most of the costumes guys wore did not reveal all that much skin. Many had costumes with armor or shields, and while there was an occasionally bare arm to be seen, it was not like a Key West Halloween party. This was a Jesuit high school, after all.
As Miles and I were in different home rooms (and thus different first period classes), I didn't see him that day until 2nd period, which happened to be gym class. He walked into the locker room, and what he was wearing amounted to nothing more than a bed sheet. "You didn't seriously wear that today, did you?" I asked.
"Yeah. I forgot it was Greek Day," Miles replied. "I had to just put something together quick this morning."
"It's just a bed sheet?" asked Steve, who was now at the locker on the other side of Miles.
Miles was standing there. This white sheet was draped over one shoulder like a sash. The fabric slowly fanned out as it approached his waist, but his one pec was completely exposed.
"You walked around this morning with your whole chest hanging out?" I asked, incredulously.
"Yeah. It's no big deal. No one said anything," Miles responded.
"How did you tie it?" Steve asked.
"Oh, I just folded the two ends, and then attached them here," Miles said, as he unsnapped a safety pin on his shoulder, and let the sheet fall off him.
He stood there in his underwear, then folded up the sheet, and grabbed a tanktop and shorts out of his backpack.
Gym class was uneventful once again. We played scooter soccer. I didn't even get that sweaty and decided to forego a shower and just started to change back into my toga. Miles had pulled off his tankop, shorts, and underwear, and headed off to the showers. Steve looked over at me with a grin. "Should we do it again?" he asked.
I again ran through some permutation in my head. It was one thing to steal Miles's underwear when he had pants to put on. But, it was an entirely different thing to steal his underwear when all he would have to cover himself with was a makeshift toga from a bedsheet. "Umm, I dunno," was all I could muster.
But, Steve had already grabbed Miles's shorts and underwear and thrown them into his locker. He clamped down on the MasterLock, and smiled. "This should be interesting," he said as he exited.
Miles came back, and it didn't take long for him to realize his clothes were missing. Again, he seemed to think I was the culprit. "Do you have my shorts?"
"No," I responded.
"Do you know where they are?"
"I...umm...Steve took them," I replied. I could not lie to my best friend.
"Steve? Really? That's interesting. Why did he take them?"
"I dunno," was the best explanation I could provide.
Miles looked at me. "I think I'm going to have to wear this towel under my toga," he said.
Miles reached into his locker and pulled out the sheet. He had folded it in half and then grabbed the two opposing ends. He then pulled the ends up around his left shoulder, and pushed the safety pin through the two pieces. He looked down and said, "This looks stupid."
I looked down as well. With the way Miles had gathered up the sheet, it was gaping open on one side. From his shoulder down nearly to his waist was bare skin. It looked like one of those scoop tank tops that you wonder why guys even wore, since it leaves their nipples uncovered. And while you couldn't see the towel, you could tell there was something oddly bulky wrapped around Miles's waist.
Brrrrrrnnng. Brrrrrrng.
"I can't wear this towel all day," Miles exclaimed. He tossed the towel into his locker, and slipped into his sandals.
"You're really going to go to class the rest of the day just like that?" I asked.
"Yeah. Why not. It's not like anyone can see my dick," Miles replied.
"No," I thought to myself. No one can see your dick. But, you're freaking naked and wearing just a bedsheet. But, I didn't actually have time to say anything. Miles had grabbed my arm and we were running to Calculus class.
It turns out we hadn't really needed to run. The class before us was finishing an exam and running over. So, we had to wait in the hallway for the last students to finish. As Miles and I were standing there, Vinny came over and said hello to me. To my knowledge, Vinny had never spoken to Miles in four years of high school. Perhaps a bit shy, perhaps a bit realistic, Vinny knew that Miles was out of his league. But, after a bit of small talk between Vinny and me, Vinny turned to Miles and said "I really like your costume."
"Thanks. But, I didn't really put any effort into it," Miles responded.
"Well, but...it's so bold," Vinny said. "I mean...you're walking around school practically shirtless."
Miles's response was interesting and insightful. "It's no big deal. Guys on the swim team walk around in front of everyone wearing much less."
He had a point there. Our swim team's costumes were even skimpier than Miles's homemade toga. And, anyone could go to a swim meet and see one of our classmates completely shirtless. Yet, there was something about Miles wearing just a loosely draped "toga" to class that seemed way more revealing.
*
Miles and I grew up together. We lived within about 5 blocks of each other; went to the same elementary school, and our moms took turns carpooling us to/from school. We also hung out after school at the library or in Miles's basement playing videogames.
When we were young and innocent, we were all socially "equals". However, as we transitioned into junior high and then high school, the natural order sorted Miles clearly into the A-list due to his inherent good looks, athletic ability, and his parents' vocations. I, although intellectually gifted, lacked athletic ability and did not come from an affluent family, and thus was relegated to either B-list or C-list.
Both of us wound up going to a college prep school in the city. Miles quickly fit in among the 'cool kids'. Admittedly, I probably would not have been able to hang with the cool kids on my own merits, but I rode Miles's coattails. We were best friends, and he did his best to include me, although I was aware at times of rumblings, "why does James have to be here?"
Our high school's dress code was sport coat and tie for the males, and dress shirt and plaid skirt for the females. There were only occasional exceptions, such as during Spirit Week, when 'casual clothes' were allowed, depending on the theme of the day. Also, on Fridays, members of the football team were allowed to wear their football jerseys, given how Friday night football was essentially "life" in Pennsylvania.
Miles had been our football team's quarterback since sophomore year. In our junior year, he led us to our first PIAA championship. From that point on, Miles was essentially "king" in our high school.
In addition to his athletic talent (Miles was a captain on our football, basketball, and baseball teams), Miles had inherent good looks. His parents were of Italian and Portuguese background, lending his skin a flawless golden caramel hue year-around. I, like most of the rest of my class, more resembled the pasty white Irish Catholics that comprise most of Scranton's demographic.
I never really perceived Miles as cocky, but I may have been blinded by my lifelong friendship with him. Granted, I was aware that Miles could get away with things that other students could not. For example, every once in a while, a 'rebel' in our class would come to school with no socks on. This was against the dress code, and Mr. Angeli (the football coach and hall monitor) seemed to have an uncanny ability to notice such violations, which the resulted in the offending boy having to spend the afternoon in detention writing "I will follow the school dress code under god" 100 times on the whiteboard.
But, Miles seemed to never get in trouble. For example, on football Fridays, the team was permitted to wear their football jerseys over their shirt/tie, rather than wear a sport coat. In the fall of our senior year, I was over at Miles's house on Thursday, the night before our team's season opener versus rival Abington Heights. I was sitting on the floor in his room and Miles said to me, "Look at this."
I turned around and Miles was shirtless. But, at his neck was the collar of a dress shirt and what appeared to be the top of a tie. Now 18 year's old, Miles had really begun to grow into a man's physique. With his tan complexion, well-formed pecs, and a flat stomach with a few hints of ripples from emerging abs, Miles could easily have passed as a Chippendale. "What is that?" I said, laughing.
Miles said, "I'm going to wear it to school tomorrow under my football jersey."
"What? You're crazy!" I replied. "You'll never get away with that".
"No one will even notice," Miles responded.
I don't know if he was being serious or being delusional. Our team's football jerseys had solid fabric over the shoulders and down the sleeves, but like most football jerseys, they consisted of an open mesh from the mid-chest level down.
"Try the football jersey on," I suggested to him.
Miles went to his closet and pulled out his football jersey. As he lifted his arms up to pull on the jersey, I couldn't help but stare at his armpits. I don't know what it is about his armpits, but they had the softest, silkiest wisps of hair. Being jet black, they contrasted nicely with his caramel skin. Once the jersey was on, Miles stood there in front of me. "What do you think?" he asked.
"Yeah, no one will know you don't have a shirt on under it," I said sarcastically. The shirt collar that Miles had cut from one of his shirts was white. Our away jerseys were white. But, through the various holes in the mesh jersey, the 'background' color was clearly beige. If there was any doubt why beige color was popping out through the holes, it would be erased when one looked towards his chest and noticed two darker brown circles also showing through the jersey. Büyükesat Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/buyukesat-escort/) "Maybe you should put band-aids over your nipples," I suggested.
"Nah, I'm not going to do that," Miles responded.
The next day at school, I was sure Miles was going to get in trouble. Surely, Mr. Angeli would notice Miles's dress code violation. Surely some teacher would notice Miles's nipples popping through the jersey. But no one said anything. Maybe I was the only one who had a bit of a fascination with Miles?
I couldn't believe it. Miles got away with it. Yeah, I know he's the quarterback of the football team, so it wasn't likely that he would get detention on the day of our game with Abington Heights, but still I thought he would at least be confronted and told to put a shirt on under his jersey. But...nope. And that night we demolished AH 35-0.
The following week, I asked Miles if he was going to push his luck again. "Sure, nobody will say anything," Miles responded.
When Miles did it the second time, prior to our game before North Pocono, various of my classmates noticed. But, oddly, no teacher nor the principal said anything. With all the other males in shirts, ties, and sport coats, Miles was sitting in class and walking through the halls in a mesh shirt, with his tan skin clearly foiling any ruse of conformity that his fake collar was supposed to imply.
The next week was our home opener versus Dunmore. Again, I was at Miles's house on Thursday night as he 'modeled' his jersey for the next day. Our home jerseys were purple. Given the dark color, the mesh jersey did not make it so apparent that Miles was shirtless underneath. However, our home jerseys were also cut shorter...more like half shirts or crop tops. I guess the thought was that the dark purple jerseys could absorb heat in the hot August summers, so it was best to 'ventilate' them by making them open at the bottom. Miles stood before me. While the fake collar and chopped off clip-on tie knot might make one think he was wearing a shirt and tie...but only if they were only looking at him from the chest up. The jersey stopped just above his navel. There were a good 4 inches of caramel skin showing beneath the bottom of his jersey, accentuated by a silky black treasure trail that flowed from his belly button and disappeared into his pants. "You'll never get away with it," I said.
"Sure I will," he responded.
And he was right. By this time, it wasn't possible that anyone in the senior class didn't know that Miles was walking around school shirtless under his football jersey. His white Calvins waistband jutted out an inch above his dress pants, providing a jarring contrast to his bronze skin. Even when standing, his jersey could not close the gap, leaving 3 to 4 inches of bare skin exposed to the air. Yet again, not a single teacher, nor the principal, said anything the entire day.
The following week was another home game, and again Miles came to school wearing just his purple jersey and his fake collar. Our school ran on a six day "mod" schedule, and this Friday equated to "Day 6". As such, Miles and I had gym second period. Technically, any of our student athletes were exempted from gym if it fell on the day of a scheduled sports event, but Miles never sat out. He was an athletic kid who enjoyed sport, and 30 minutes of dodgeball in the morning wasn't going to tire him out and compromise his ability to dominate on the football field that evening.
Gym class was uneventful. As usual, gym ended 10-15 minutes before 'the bell' in order to allow us to shower and get changed. Miles and I had our gym lockers next to each other, one of the perks of my being his best friend since age 5. On the other side was Steve, one of the wide receivers on our team. Steve was a decent athlete, a tall guy. He was actually much better at basketball, but was a member of his football team simply because of his height. When Miles had gone into the shower, Steve grabbed Miles's gym shorts and underwear from the bench. Steve smiled at me and asked, "Do you think we should hide these?"
I looked at Steve. I must confess I liked the idea. But, I also liked Miles. I was conflicted between my loyalty to my best friend and the rush of what seemed like an awesome prank. I debated internally for a few seconds, and then gave Steve a nod of my head, "Go for it!"
Steve had chosen not to participate in gym class that day, so he was already dressed. He took Miles's underwear and gym shorts and put them into his own backpack. Then, he left the locker room to wait out in the gym lobby for the bell to ring, directing us to go to our next class.
Miles came back from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. I enjoyed looking at Miles's chest and the ripples of his triceps. Miles never seemed to notice, or he simply didn't care. We had been best friends for so long. He had never questioned my sexuality, and honestly neither had I. While I certainly felt Miles Elvankent Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/elvankent-escort/) was attractive, I wasn't per se attracted to Miles. Rather, I had an admiration for him. It was a little bit of envy. I wanted to be Miles.
Miles asked me, "Dude, where's my underwear? Did you take them?"
"No. Why? Are they missing?" I responded.
"Are you sure you didn't take them?" he asked me.
"No. I swear," I replied.
Miles opened my locker and took a peek in. "Fuck," he said, "the bell's gonna go off any second. I need to get dressed."
Miles dropped the towel to the floor and pulled on his pants. I watched as his zipped up the pants, his penis shaft and thick tufts of pubic hair disappearing as he zipped up. Then he pulled the fake collar over his head, and pulled the football jersey on.
Brrrrrrrnng. Brrrrrrrng. The buzzer sounded. Miles and I were the last two in the locker room. Calculus was our next class, and it was all the way across the building. We only had four minutes to get there.
"Fuck!" Miles exclaimed. He tossed his socks and his belt into his locker. "I don't have time to put these on." "Let's run!"
In each of our classes, we always had assigned seats by last name. With Miles's last name starting in K, he was generally the 3rd or 4th seat in the middle row. With my last name starting with P, I was generally in the 4th seat of the 4th row. This was the case in calculus, as I sat one seat behind him in the next row.
I could not focus on what Mr. Bergman was saying that day. We were doing integration from zero to infinity or something. I just kept looking down at Miles's feet. There, resting in penny loafers, were his tan ankles. I know it's just ankles, and it's hard for me to explain why I was so entranced. Of course, everyone in math class knew that Miles was shirtless under his jersey, and I'm sure a few noticed that he wasn't wearing any socks. But, I sat there knowing that he wasn't wearing any underwear. I found myself daydreaming...imagining that I was a fly...landing on Miles's ankle and then slowly crawling up inside his pant leg...unencumbered all the way up to his dick and balls. At that time, only Miles and I (and, of course, Steve) knew that he was commando. "What would the other students think if they knew?" I wondered to myself.
As we were leaving math class, I found myself exiting behind Miles. He had swung his backpack up over one shoulder, which caused his football jersey to ride up, scrunched under the bag. I found myself looking down at the small of his back. But, then I noticed there was even more to look at. Without a belt, Miles's pants had sunk low on his hips. Without any Calvins, there was a clear one inch of a lightly fuzzed butt crack exposed, then plunging into darkness.
Vinny happened to be walking out next to me. I turned and pointed at Miles's butt to Vinny. Vinny's eyes got wide, and he looked at me and licked his lips. Vinny was the only openly out gay student in our class. He was extremely flamboyant, so there was no chance of even plausible deniability. And while he was shunned by some, Vinny embraced his homosexuality. I had only recently started to get to know Vinny as a person. The fault was mine. As I was still 'discovering' my sexuality, I had feared being "guilty by association" if I were to have a gay friend.
However, Vinny had helped me study for AP English, the only class in which I really struggled in high school. In between tutoring sessions, we got to bond a little, and I discovered that Vinny was a really cool person. It didn't matter that I knew nothing about the Grammys/Emmys and that he knew nothing about sports, we grew to be friends. Somewhere during the course of senior year, Vinny had revealed to me that he was jealous of me for being Miles's best friend. It was, at first, a strange revelation to me. Vinny acknowledged that he had a crush on Miles, which I guess was completely understandable. Vinny was jealous that I got to hang out with Miles all the time. And, Vinny lamented that in four years of high school, he had never once managed to be scheduled in the same gym class as Miles. Vinny knew that I got to see Miles naked at least once a week, and Vinny was jealous.
Fast forward a few months. Senior year of high school is beginning to wind down. One of the highlights of the year was always March 15. As a college prep school that prided itself in a strong liberal arts curriculum, with various classes in Latin and Greek, the 'Ides of March" was an oddly celebrated holiday. Other than spirit week, it was the only other time when we did not have to wear sport coat and tie. Instead, if we made a $5 donation (which the school gave to the local St. Francis soup kitchen), we could dress up as a Greek or a Roman.
Some guys went all out with fancy costumes, with metal breast plates, and elaborate leather lace up sandals. I had purchased a rather ordinary 'toga' costume online for about $30. It wasn't Beşevler Escort (http://etlikcivciv.com/ad-category/besevler-escort/) elaborate, nor was it terribly revealing, but at least I didn't have to wear a coat and tie. Generally speaking, most of the costumes guys wore did not reveal all that much skin. Many had costumes with armor or shields, and while there was an occasionally bare arm to be seen, it was not like a Key West Halloween party. This was a Jesuit high school, after all.
As Miles and I were in different home rooms (and thus different first period classes), I didn't see him that day until 2nd period, which happened to be gym class. He walked into the locker room, and what he was wearing amounted to nothing more than a bed sheet. "You didn't seriously wear that today, did you?" I asked.
"Yeah. I forgot it was Greek Day," Miles replied. "I had to just put something together quick this morning."
"It's just a bed sheet?" asked Steve, who was now at the locker on the other side of Miles.
Miles was standing there. This white sheet was draped over one shoulder like a sash. The fabric slowly fanned out as it approached his waist, but his one pec was completely exposed.
"You walked around this morning with your whole chest hanging out?" I asked, incredulously.
"Yeah. It's no big deal. No one said anything," Miles responded.
"How did you tie it?" Steve asked.
"Oh, I just folded the two ends, and then attached them here," Miles said, as he unsnapped a safety pin on his shoulder, and let the sheet fall off him.
He stood there in his underwear, then folded up the sheet, and grabbed a tanktop and shorts out of his backpack.
Gym class was uneventful once again. We played scooter soccer. I didn't even get that sweaty and decided to forego a shower and just started to change back into my toga. Miles had pulled off his tankop, shorts, and underwear, and headed off to the showers. Steve looked over at me with a grin. "Should we do it again?" he asked.
I again ran through some permutation in my head. It was one thing to steal Miles's underwear when he had pants to put on. But, it was an entirely different thing to steal his underwear when all he would have to cover himself with was a makeshift toga from a bedsheet. "Umm, I dunno," was all I could muster.
But, Steve had already grabbed Miles's shorts and underwear and thrown them into his locker. He clamped down on the MasterLock, and smiled. "This should be interesting," he said as he exited.
Miles came back, and it didn't take long for him to realize his clothes were missing. Again, he seemed to think I was the culprit. "Do you have my shorts?"
"No," I responded.
"Do you know where they are?"
"I...umm...Steve took them," I replied. I could not lie to my best friend.
"Steve? Really? That's interesting. Why did he take them?"
"I dunno," was the best explanation I could provide.
Miles looked at me. "I think I'm going to have to wear this towel under my toga," he said.
Miles reached into his locker and pulled out the sheet. He had folded it in half and then grabbed the two opposing ends. He then pulled the ends up around his left shoulder, and pushed the safety pin through the two pieces. He looked down and said, "This looks stupid."
I looked down as well. With the way Miles had gathered up the sheet, it was gaping open on one side. From his shoulder down nearly to his waist was bare skin. It looked like one of those scoop tank tops that you wonder why guys even wore, since it leaves their nipples uncovered. And while you couldn't see the towel, you could tell there was something oddly bulky wrapped around Miles's waist.
Brrrrrrnnng. Brrrrrrng.
"I can't wear this towel all day," Miles exclaimed. He tossed the towel into his locker, and slipped into his sandals.
"You're really going to go to class the rest of the day just like that?" I asked.
"Yeah. Why not. It's not like anyone can see my dick," Miles replied.
"No," I thought to myself. No one can see your dick. But, you're freaking naked and wearing just a bedsheet. But, I didn't actually have time to say anything. Miles had grabbed my arm and we were running to Calculus class.
It turns out we hadn't really needed to run. The class before us was finishing an exam and running over. So, we had to wait in the hallway for the last students to finish. As Miles and I were standing there, Vinny came over and said hello to me. To my knowledge, Vinny had never spoken to Miles in four years of high school. Perhaps a bit shy, perhaps a bit realistic, Vinny knew that Miles was out of his league. But, after a bit of small talk between Vinny and me, Vinny turned to Miles and said "I really like your costume."
"Thanks. But, I didn't really put any effort into it," Miles responded.
"Well, but...it's so bold," Vinny said. "I mean...you're walking around school practically shirtless."
Miles's response was interesting and insightful. "It's no big deal. Guys on the swim team walk around in front of everyone wearing much less."
He had a point there. Our swim team's costumes were even skimpier than Miles's homemade toga. And, anyone could go to a swim meet and see one of our classmates completely shirtless. Yet, there was something about Miles wearing just a loosely draped "toga" to class that seemed way more revealing.