Christopher and David have the kind of relationship where they spend most of their time punching each other out, sleeping with each other’s girlfriends,
and giving each other furtive handjobs behind the school bleachers.
Jalil finds this about as amusing as anyone possibly could.
“Repressed homosexuality,” he explains. “In bucketloads.”
“Shut up,” Christopher says. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up, seriously. Which one of us gets manicures?”
Jalil takes another sip of his mocha, fingernails gleaming. “Which one of us gave David Levin a blowjob yesterday?”
“I don’t know why I tell you anything,” Christopher sulks, like Monday it isn’t business as usual – making fun of David’s poetry in English class, calling his girlfriend a slut,
and sucking him off behind the dumpsters after detention. Fuck. Christopher needs some new hobbies.
Christopher doesn’t even understand his own attraction to David.
Christopher likes girls – girls with blonde hair and nice breasts, who spend most of their time cheerleading and debating which doctor on Grey’s Anatomy is hottest.
David spends most of his time brooding, smoking, and figuring out how to get his emo bangs to hang in his eyes just so. Or so Christopher would assume.
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