((Bound By Words chapter 2))

Like the dumbshit I am, I sat on the bus, alone, in the front. Even Jon was paying more attention to the backseats, leaving me to stare at yesterday's math homework that Ryan Ross had handed back to me.

Last night, I already made the decision that Ryan was just another pretty face and that it was a waste of precious time to run after a clearly straight guy. I mean, look at the peoplein the back of the bus. He was already laughing and insulting people with them. How sad is the conversation compose of two nothing more than the question "Who you callin' faggot, homo?" in response to the prior question, "Who you callin' homo, faggot?" and so on.

I mean, at least Jon doesnt base ALL of our conversations on my sexual orientation.

But Jon was currently focused on the laughing crowd of kids, Ryan amongst the sea of walking dicks.

What a pity.

But nonetheless, the day went on in a continuous motion.


It was 3rd hour and we were all seated, Jon and I discussing how the hell a guy like Spencer Smith could associate with popular people without them hanging his bony ass from the roof of the school cafeteria.

Spencer was cool, he even talked to Jon and I a few times. His head was in the right place, I guess. He just got stuck upon arrival. And now he and Mr. Ross were shoulder-to-shoulder as if they were each others' sidekicks.

"Joy, oh joy!" the teacher, Mrs. Divetta, chimed in, interrupting the buzz around the room.

"A new class project!"

"Oh yeah," Jon scarfed, "Just shitloads of joy there."

In agreement I sarcastically nodded, my eyesover-exaggeratedlike a deer in headlights.

"Can we at least pick our groups?" some whiny male voice complained.

"Oh heavens no! The last time I allowed you all to do that, it became a free-for-all strip club, Mrs. Dempsey." Her glare aimed in one girl's direction in particular and a few wolf whistles echoed as she sunk into her chair with a mischevious and guilty as charged grin playing on her lips.

"Slut." Jon commented.

"The pairs will be counted off," she exclaimed, getting back to the point.

Well, we wasted away about 20 minutes of precious time counting off by fives. I got 4, sorrowfully being separated from Jon, but rather stuck with Rick Tolley (skater), Spencer Smith, and guess who? Ryan Fucking Ross.

"Super-dee-duper." My tone completely not enthusiastic about any of this.

I mean, no offense or anything, but being stuck with them is like an hour a day of torture. They all hate me, except for Ryan, who is instead being brainwashed to hate me.

Like I said, just super. Dandy. The whole jazz band and shit.


Ryan and Spencer shifted over laughing, but since Rick coins the excuse of 'may I go to the bathroom, its an emergency', we were alone.

The second they neared me, Ryan's smile dropped and Spencer smirked all knowingly.

"This is to test your writing and interviewing skills. You must write at least a paragraph on one person in your group. I dont want it to sound like a text book, but nor do I want it to spur fights or sound like your comming out of Detroit. Make it opinionated, yet considerate."

Spencer immediately made up his mind, "I call Rick."

Of course, literacy is too much of a stretch for him.

Ryan, still looking down at the table, smiled a little, "I guess I'm stuck with you then."

Thats great. Stuck with me. Sorry to be another notch on your bedpost, hun, but I'm tied to a tree thats rooted to the ground and surrounded by electrical fence, otherwise I wouldnt be here right now.

"Yep." I replied, the fed-up-ness appearing in my voice.

"Not in a bad way," he was quick to reassure, using his chocolate swirled eyes to convince me.

"I-Its fine, I get it." and I whipped out a piece of paper as Spencer sat back, enjoying watching us for some sick reason.

"Name?" my mouth formed the wordsubconsciouslyas I painfully began the game of 20 questions.

"George Ryan Ross." he replied, faster than anything.

I looked up through my red-rimmed glasses, gently pushing them up my face.

"George?"

"Leave it at Ryan."

"Alright, age?"

"16,"

"Status?"

"Single."

"Occupations?"

"Dancing and guitar."

"Immediate family?"

"Um," he took a few seconds delay, "just me and my parents."

"Music taste?"

"Alternative."

"Really?" I implored, in total disbelief.

So maybe this guy had some good traits, he was 16, he could dance (its hot), he could play guitar.

A little perfect?

"Mmhmm." he verified the fact, looking at me with those 'why so shocked' expressions.

He was so easy to read.

"Like who?" I placed my eyes back at the paper, writing everything down.

"Oh basically everything."

"Like, My Chemical Romance?"

"Occasionally, when I'm feeling pissed or something. The Beatles?"

"No shit," I smiled, writing still.

It looked like my poor language stunned the boy, because I was sure that due to his expression he was about tochoke,drop dead on the floor and die.

I cleared my throat, "Sorry."

"S'fine." and he was recovered.

"Green Day?"

"Not really."

"Fall Out Boy?"

"Its a lot of screaming."

"But theyre My Space is awesome."

"Yeah," and I nodded looking at him as he laughed, that gorgeous smile lighting up the room.

My nose scrunched up when I laughed, so my glasses stuck out big time, but somehow I felt there was no need to impress in front of Ryan. Maybe he wasnt God after all. Just another kid.

Spencer was smiling that 'I-know-something-no-one-else-knows-and-I'm-gonna-flaunt-it-to-annoy-people'-ey smile, casting his glance at Ryan. It completely interrupted our moment of contact.

Ryan looked at him, rolled his eyes, and gave him a shove in the arm. A rather weak one, might I point out.

My eyes fell and I let them have their fun.

Who would have guessed that Ryan would be this...this...cool. I mean, he was still one of the walking dicks. Not that I am, nor have I ever been, one for grudges. He's gorgeous and pure and everything, but he;s still an arrogant asshole.

"Alright 10 minutes to wrap it up!" the teacher smiled, that voice overshaddowing the entire classroom's combined, making Jon's singing incompetent in comparison.

Spencer leapt for the door after giving Ryan a 'you know what to do' glare and leaving us alone.

Why do people love doing that?

"Hey, do you wanna finish the project at my place?"

I cant believe my ears. I wanted to fall backwards and shut my eyes and drift into a pit of darkness, go towards the light, find an angel waiting to welcome me, punch that angel in the face, tackle him to the ground, sit him upright by the collar and shake him repeatedly yelling, "WHY IS YOUR MAIN OBJECTIVE TO THROW MY LIFE OFF BALANCE AND TO CONFUSE THE FUCK OUT OF ME, YOU HOLY BASTARD?!"

But...I didnt.Instead I just looked at him for a really really long time, as he looked back, eyes squinted with concern.

"What'd I do wrong?" he asked after a while of uncomfortableness.

"Nothing, nothing!" I snapped back. "Your place?"

"I'll pick you up after school...?" his tone was made unsure.

"Yeah."


Of course, my eyes were huge and my mind was blurry.

Not much you can say, can you?


Despite this awkwardness, he gave a (once again) shaky and unsure thumbs up and walked off.


Well I stood there as the room emptied out, like a gayass, and when it was empty, I dashed out screaming, "JON! JON! JONNNNN! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE! GOD EXISTS!GOD EXISTS!"