Guardians and Angels | Chapter One (Part 1)

When I was in seventh grade, a new kid moved to town. He was a surfer and a jet skier who won all kinds of awards for kids our age in California.

I was infatuated.

He was my first crush. The kind where you know every indent of their lips and every speck in their eyes after seeing them once.

I think everyone meets a magnet at some point. And he was magnetic to me. Every day was a discovery with him. Everything was new even though I memorized everything I knew.

I was head over heels.

We both joined the wrestling team after a week into the school year, and that is where we really started to bond. He was much quicker than me and knew how to apply certain moves on me that would defeat me. I was irate. I was stronger, thicker, and faster. I didn’t lose often. He beat me three times in a row.

I didn’t talk to him for a few days. I’m like that. Always will be. Can’t help it. But he would just look over, devastatingly handsome, and give me a little wave and a smirk. Usually the sun would be hitting his highlights perfectly in the wind. I had no defenses to his charismatic onslaught.

Lunchtime.

He’s walking around looking at the tables. Sees me… walks over. Sits down. His lips are the same burgundy color as the school sweater he’s wearing…

“I didn’t realize you were so sensitive. I would’ve let you win”

“I’m not sensitive”

He laughed under his breath and looked downward like he was genuinely trying to hide it. When he looked up, I remember making true eye contact with him for the first time. That lock clicked. He saw into me and I saw into him. He smirked and said, “I won’t ever mention it again”

He showed me many of his moves as we trained and wrestled, and there were times I could beat him. We would wrestle hard, but I wouldn’t try to hurt him. With the other guys a hard armbar across the face felt normal. But he was different.

His father started showing up to our matches when the season started. Drove a huge truck, business owner, super confident and loud. He would really get into the matches and scream and shout. If my friend won, everyone knew. If my friend lost… well his dad was asked to leave a few times. My friend would just ignore it. Act like it wasn’t his dad. Just looked away.

After a month he started asking if I wanted to come over for a weekend. The autumn weeks were warm, and he still did waterskiing competitions and wanted me to come along. It would involve me spending the night. I said yes, and we worked everything out. I was excited and nervous. I would spend the night with friends all the time… but he was different

After our wrestling match that Friday, I was to ride home with him and his father. The plan was to spend the night, then go to the waterski competition the next morning.

I don’t remember if I won or lost, but he lost a close match and his father erupted. His father yelled at the official, the other team’s coaches, other parents. It was a scene. The father left and drove off… irate. Big truck revving, tires screeching. I remember looking over at my friend and he was staring into the stands across from us, as if he was looking for someone, his back to the commotion, like it wasn't happening.

We ended up getting a ride home from his mom. She showed up, really pretty and very sweet. She had a Cadillac Escalade with a 'booming system' in it and she turned up the music so we could hear the bass as we drove home. I remember the song was "You Got It All" by The Jets. A beautiful love song about someone who just showed up one day looking all perfect and having everything. I smiled inside as the lyrics struck me for the first time. She was me, singing to him. I wonder now if that song was a coincidence. The mom and him didn’t talk much about the dad. He mostly looked out the window. Looking in the distance. Just a few questions and a few grunts for answers.

The night went well, but I don’t remember much. It was a comfortable evening. He was a "rich kid" in my mind. They had really nice furniture and a walk-in snack closet. Marble everything. We ended up going to his room to fall asleep in his bed around midnight. A surfer boy's room. Fluffy blankets. Hot pinks and electric blue hues.

We talked for a while.

I remember my heart sounded like horses galloping in my ears. My mouth kept getting dry. I had a raging hard-on so I lay with my back to him. Answering his questions as they bounced off the window in front of me and filled my ears with his voice. He was so curious about me. He could get me to talk more to him than I had talked to anyone all year combined with just one inquiry.

At some point he dozed off and I was lying there thinking. Every time I would swallow it felt like I would wake the house up. He would make little clicking noises in his throat, his breath getting deeper. I was about to drift off myself when I heard him startle a bit, jump from his dream and roll over, his arm now around me, his leg over mine.