Just a Dumb Surfer Dude Read online

  Just a Dumb Surfer Dude:

  A Gay Coming-of-Age Tale

  By: Chase Connor

  © Copyright 2018

  All characters depicted in sexual situations in this publication are eighteen years of age or older. These stories are about fictional consenting adults. Nobody involved in the creation of this ebook, including authors, editors and models, support immoral or illegal acts in real life. Cover models are not intended to illustrate specific people and the content does not refer to models' actual acts, identity, history, beliefs or behavior. No characters depicted in this ebook are intended to represent real people.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  AUTHORS’ NOTE:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  I sat in Calculus, easily absorbing the information that Mr. Fresslay spouted in rapid-fire sentences, while I also daydreamed. Like usual. Mr. Fresslay spoke quickly and professionally, not stopping to check the faces of his students. In fact, he rarely looked away from the dry-erase board, projector, or whatever teaching implement he was utilizing in each class. It wasn’t that he didn’t care if we weren’t absorbing the information, he just didn’t seem to realize that that was also part of teaching effectively. That was why he had such long office hours at the end of the day. At least a third of his students showed up with a question or two.

  Mr. Fresslay was a nice guy, though. He just had some type of mental block when he was teaching. He was missing that little voice that said “Hey, Freeslay, check in with the students for a sec”. Regardless of his teaching style (or lack thereof), he always made time to answer questions and tutor students after school hours. He wasn’t one of those perv-y teachers, either, if that’s what you are thinking. Teaching inadequately during class wasn’t his way to make sure that students showed up after hours to talk to him. Mr. Fresslay was really and truly a Nice Guy. Just a bit daft.

  Honestly, I couldn’t blame the man for his teaching style. When you’re a math teacher, especially Calculus, at a school like Dextrus, you don’t give the students a chance to interject with nonsense. If you lose the class for even a second, it was quite possible that you’d have a riot on your hands. Not like a “smashing windows and burning shit down” riot, but a less violent riot nonetheless.

  Dextrus Academy is an all-boys school and kind of exclusive I guess. Yeah. It’s exactly what you think. A lot of the students come from rich families, a lot of them used to be white—before Dextrus finally committed to (a bit) more inclusivity and diversity—there are fancy uniforms, and all of the testosterone floating around makes it hard to control the students at times. I mean, a bunch of teenage boys in a classroom leads to crass humor, loud voices, students competing to be class clown, and teachers that are often frustrated. Even though I’m one of the students, I sympathize highly with my teachers. I wouldn’t want their jobs no matter how much it paid—and I hear it pays pretty well.

  For the most part, though, the students act appropriately and things run smoothly. Sure, we’re all boys and you have to keep a tight leash on us—most of us—but it can be done. Luckily, most of my fellow students in all of the classes that I’ve taken are here to actually learn. Most of them already have ten-year-plans in mind. That’s probably because a lot of their fathers and-slash-or mothers expect it of them. They come from legacy families and are expected to pay attention, behave, learn, excel, and go to great colleges. Then, I guess, they’re expected to follow in their parents’ footsteps. Some of those guys are highly strung and easily angered, too. I don’t really count a lot of them as my friends.

  My family isn’t rich. Well, it’s just really me and my dad. When I was five-years-old, my mom passed away, so while my dad and I are still a family, we’re a bit different from the families my fellow students have. The only reason that I go to Dextrus Academy, besides my grades, is that my dad is a teacher here. He teaches Comparative Literature—which I find absolutely boring, but he wants me to find fascinating. Don’t get me wrong, I love to read…but I don’t want to discuss the cultural, historical, and philosophical connections in The Kite Runner. Even though it’s one of my favorite books. I’d rather just talk about how it made me feel. That really bothers my father when we’re talking about our days over the dinner table.

  If I wasn’t such a good student, it would probably bother my father more, but since I maintain a 4.9 GPA, he tends to let it slide. My name is Cooper and I’m an eighteen-year-old senior at Dextrus Academy. I would have been a fifteen-year-old senior three years ago when the academic board tried to move me from freshmen classes to senior classes. But my father wasn’t too keen on having me go off to college when I was sixteen. He thought I “needed time to mature and gain experience” before leaving home.

  Honestly, I knew that he didn’t want me to leave home even one second earlier than was usual because I was all he had. After my mom died, my dad and I became closer than ever. We didn’t have much, but we had each other—and we both were okay with that. I just don’t think he was ready to lose that too quickly. And I didn’t blame him. Going off to college early sounded like a dream…but I didn’t want to leave home at sixteen either. Besides, it’s hard enough going to college when you’re eighteen, I could only imagine trying to do it when you’ve just started driving.

  So, I was content to sit in Calculus—which I’ve taken the last three years, since Dextrus doesn’t have any higher math classes—and listen to things I already knew. Like I mentioned, it gave me plenty of time to drift and daydream. My classes are a breeze—though I feel like a genuine freak every time I say it—so I can just coast until my senior year is over. The bad thing is that my daydreams are very distracting. Sure, I still take in the information that the teacher provides but I was sure that I looked as vacant as I felt.

  And my daydreams are not necessarily something that anyone would want to have in a school setting. The daydreams did…things…to my body. Things you don’t want other male students to see when you stand up from your seat. Erections. I’m talking about erections, in case you haven’t caught on. The worst part was—I was sure all of the guys in my class were having those sort of daydreams from time to time. It was amazing how we weren’t all walking around with erections all the time. But theirs were about girls. Mine never were.

  Calculus was the worst, too. That’s the one class my daydream subject was in. Thom was a lacrosse player. Not the captain or anything—my crush is not that trite. But, since he’s still a lacrosse player, it’s still kind of a cliché I guess. But he is a fucking hot cliché. Short, curly black hair, tall, lean body, deep blue eyes, broad shoulders, bright white smile, a single dimple in his right cheek, and an affable nature—he’s a walking wet dream. Thom and I are friendly—have even hung out in groups together—but I definitely wouldn’t bet on my daydreams about him ever coming true.

  But that didn’t stop me from imagining that time would suddenly stand still in Calculus. Then Thom would slowly turn his head with a seductive smile, his eyes finding mine. He’d rise from his seat, walking from the front of the class where he sat to the back of the class where I sat. When he was a few feet away, he’d start unbuttoning his pants, slowly reaching into his fly to pull out what was probably a massive…

  “Pssst!” I s
tartled out of my daze as Alex’s pencil jabbed me in my right arm.

  I turned my head to my right, shooting him an annoyed glare.

  “Stop daydreaming, homo.” Alex whispered lowly with a sly grin from his seat to my immediate right.

  I made a jerking off and then tossing motion in his direction. Okay. He called me a “homo”. I get it. That’s mean and prejudiced and derogatory. But here’s the thing—he knows I’m gay. Alex is gay, too. It’s kind of a term of endearment for us. When you’re the only two gay guys in a school—whom you know of—you tend to act in a way that’s not on par with social norms. You do what you have to do to get by, right? So, Alex and I sometimes called each names that aren’t exactly socially acceptable, but they mean something different as far as we are concerned. “Homo” was our tribal name. We are a tribe. A small tribe, certainly, but still a tribe.

  Alex just laughed at my gross gesture and focused his attention back to the board where Mr. Freeslay was still droning on. Alex didn’t have it as easy as I did when it came to school. Though his family was the antithesis of mine—his parents were both alive and married, they were rich, and he was one of the legacy kids—Alex didn’t pick up on subjects as quickly as I did.

  Don’t get me wrong, Alex is far from dumb. But he has to work hard for his good grades. He’s street smart, but when it comes to book smarts, he has to work for what he gets. It’s actually one of the things that I like about him. He’s not afraid of admitting that his A’s come from a lot of dedication and work. He’s also a great friend. While I’m kind of your average high school senior, looks wise, Alex is a jock. I’m not ugly or anything, but my looks aren’t stopping traffic. Alex, on the other hand, is also a lacrosse player and has the typical All-American Jock looks that you’d expect.

  No. I don’t fantasize about Alex.

  He’s my friend. We’ve been friends since I entered Dextrus Academy as a freshman with no experience with such schools. I’d been a public-school kid up until then. Alex was intimately familiar with schools like Dextrus and knew the pressures of being a legacy. However, the minute we met, he took me under his wing and claimed me as his best friend. Even though we were from two different worlds and belonged to very different cliques, he had claimed me as his best friend all the way through our freshman, sophomore, and junior years at Dextrus. As far as I could tell, senior year would be the same.

  I smiled at my best friend and turned my head back to where I could gaze at Thom without him noticing. The way he was sitting at his desk, I could just see the left side of his face, but that was enough for me. His chiseled jaw line, swoop of black curls, that one bright blue eye, it was all enough for me. Enough for my daydreams to flesh themselves out.

  Thom and I doing it in the bathroom. Thom and I doing it at the front of the classroom, everyone pretending we weren’t even there as they listened to Mr. Freeslay drone on. Thom and I meeting up in the chem lab when it wasn’t in use. Meeting in the stacks of the impeccably decorated library. Meeting in the computer lab and maybe doing a little damage. Meeting in the headmaster’s office late at night when no one was in the school.

  I sighed to myself as the bell rang, loud and shrill, and everyone began grabbing their books and bags, rushing to leave Calculus. Quickly, I assessed the situation in my crotch, pleased to find that I was able to stand without embarrassing myself. As I stood, Alex jumped up and laced an arm around my neck, pulling me in close, practically breaking my neck.

  “Horny little bastard.” He whispered in my ear, then gave a belly laugh.

  “Eat a dick, Alex.” I rolled my eyes but not without mirth. “Eat a whole bag of dicks. I don’t care.”

  “Homo.” He whispered under his breath again before letting me go. “So…it’s Friday. Are you coming over this weekend, or what?”

  I shrugged as I stuffed my things into my bag, taking my time. It was Friday and my last class of the day after all. It’s not like I had to rush to be anywhere. If it were up to me, I’d be heading off to my after-school job, but my dad had put the kibosh on that. Apparently, it was unseemly for a teacher at Dextrus to have a son that had to resort to an after-school job.

  Dad’s always concerned about me blending in with the other students. He said my grades always made me stand out. The fact that I wasn’t a legacy made me stand out. The fact that I drove a second-hand Honda Civic made me stand out. He “would be damned if I worked an after-school job” due to all of that. It wasn’t like we had to have the money—he could afford to give me an allowance easily. But I just wanted something that was my own, that I earned. However, the fact that this was probably another thing that would keep him from spending as much time as possible with me before college made me drop the matter. I’d have plenty of time to work my way through college—even though scholarships were going to pay for everything.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t give me that shit, Coop.” Alex grumbled.

  Mr. Freeslay looked up from his position at his desk, shooting the “stink-eye” at Alex.

  “Sorry, Mr. Freeslay.” Alex grimaced.

  I rolled my eyes and slung my bag over my shoulder, heading towards the door. I gave Mr. Freeslay a silent “sorry” as we exited his room. He smiled and nodded at me, then frowned at Alex. The two of us left Mr. Freeslay’s room and entered the nearly empty hall. All of the other students had made a mad dash to the parking lots. Just like every other high school in the U.S., it was uncommon for students to linger when school let out on Fridays. Some of the students might have dashed to after-school practices, but those were outside or in the auditorium or gym, not the hallways.

  “So?” Alex urged me on.

  “So, what?”

  “Are you coming over or what?” Alex gave a deep sigh.

  “Your parents are going to get sick of me, Alex.” I replied. “I’ve been there every single weekend since…well, since freshman year.”

  “My mother adoooores you.” He cooed. “And dad thinks you’re interesting.”

  Alex mimicked his father’s voice.

  “That Cooper sure is an interesting kid. Smart as hell and doesn’t even have to work at it. He’ll be Valedictorian, you mind my words. He’ll accomplish more than any of those other little shits.”

  I grimaced. That’s kind of a shitty thing to say when your own kid is in the room. Alex shrugged.

  “It’s true, Coop.”

  “Cooper.” I replied evenly.

  “Coop. Coop. Coop.” Alex jeered at me as he jabbed me in the side.

  I swiped at him with one hand as we approached my locker. Alex enjoyed nothing more than getting under my skin. I mean, he didn’t really irritate me, but sometimes a guy gets tired of being egged on all day long. Alex meant no harm by it, but he had way too much physical energy for me. He was like a walking talking Monster energy drink.

  “What?” Alex asked as I opened my locker and looked at him.

  “You need medication.” I cocked an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure you have ADHD.”

  “Well, write me a prescription for Ritalin, Dr. Coop.” He crowed.

  “Adderall is more common now.” I replied evenly as I stowed my bag in my locker and then pulled my keys off of the top shelf. “Ritalin got a bad rap after the 90’s, I think.”

  Alex slumped, his shoulders going slack as I closed my locker and turned to face him.

  “What?” I shrugged.

  “Are you or are you not coming over?” He squinted at me.

  “Fine.” I replied. “But you know my dad is going to give me the talk.”

  Alex took the opportunity to switch voices and mimic my father.

  “But Cooper, this is the last year we have together. You’re always over at that kid’s house. When are we going to spend time together??”

  “He doesn’t call you ‘that kid’, and you know it.” I snorted as we began to walk down the hall.

  Alex squinched his face up at me.

  “He calls you ‘Headmaster Johnson’s kid’. Get it right.” I nu
dged him with an elbow.

  Alex cackled loudly as we walked down the hallway, following our fellow students towards freedom.

  The Johnsons’ had a really nice house in the suburbs. It was one of those faux-Tudor style houses that all the rich people seemed to be so fond of, and a far cry from the craftsman cottage my dad and I called home. Every time I parked my second-hand car in their driveway, I felt like white trash. But I wasn’t. And my dad wasn’t. We were just middle class. Whenever I was going to go over to Alex’s for the night, I tended to wait until it was beginning to get dark so that the neighbors wouldn’t notice my out of place car so well when I pulled up. It made the situation a lot more comfortable for everyone involved, in my opinion.

  That’s why I was still packing an overnight bag at the end of my bed as the sun was slowly inching towards the horizon. The last rays of the dying sun spilled through the blinds in the window of my second-story bedroom, landing upon my cat Jumper’s favorite napping spot on my bed. I reached down to give him a cursory behind the ears scratch as I mentally went over everything in my bag. Going to Alex’s, I really didn’t need much besides a change of clothes and my toiletries. They’d have everything else. They always did.

  Jumper purred lazily and rolled onto his back, exposing his belly to me, as I scratched behind his ears. The sun highlighted his lighter fur on his underside as he wriggled happily under my trained hand. Whenever I had moments like this in my bedroom, it made me sad to think that I’d be calling a dormitory my home in less than a year. If it made me sad, I could only imagine how my dad was feeling.

  As if summoned by my thoughts, I heard the opening of the front door downstairs, announcing my dad’s arrival home.

  “The second smartest man in the house is home!” He announced jovially.

  I really hated that joke.

  “Be right there!” I hollered back as I zipped up my bag.

  Jumper frowned at me as I pulled my hand away from him. Not giving him love when he was around was one of the most egregious sins that I could commit. My cellphone buzzed on top of my desk and I scooped it up, giving it a quick glance. I sighed as I saw Alex’s name pop up in the text alert. Swiping my thumb across the phone screen.