Defining Love

March 1, 2018
By lilgoonin, magnolia, Texas
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lilgoonin, Magnolia, Texas
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Author's note:

This inspired me because I, myself, have had troubles in life because I liked the same sex. This story came from the heart to me, and I hope you like it. 

Everything was in high-speed mode to Jamie McFlinely. From the days passing by him, all the way to his addiction to adrenaline rushes.


He enjoyed living in the fastlane. It didn’t matter that he was only a seventeen year old senior in highschool, living in his own apartment, making several fake IDs to get into clubs he shouldn’t be in.
Just like it didn’t matter that he is on a mission to sleep with every chick with a bust size over a B-cup that he laid his young eyes on. He would do what he wanted, just like he had since his Mom died when he was a toddler; and no one would ever stop him.

 

Not his school, or the law enforcements.

Not even his Dear’ole Daddy, who up and abandoned him for a new life with some new slutty, Marilyn Monroe wannabe. Sure, his Pops left him the apartment, and just enough money to get buy, but he ran away with his responsibilities and duties as a Father.


Jamie, as headstrong as he was, convinced himself that it didn’t matter. Hell, he was twice the man than that old fool. Jamie didn’t need a role model. He didn’t need a “father-figure,” and he didn’t need supervision.

 

Of course, being out past midnight at a club looking for strippers on a school-night, wasn’t what you would call responsible either.
A punch knocked into Jamie’s shoulder, making him look in the direction of the assaulter.

 

Caleb Vinsqen, a strawberry blonde, green eyed, five foot eleven football star, who just happened to be Jamie’s best friend of eight years, hiccuped drunkenly and slouched against his friend’s shoulder.
“Bro-oh-oh, did you even study for midterms tomorrow, or did you just wanna get wasted with yours truly?”
After a few seconds of thought, Jamie ran his honey-brown, sweat dampened strands and shrugged, “do you even have to ask me that?”

 

The football star chuckled, shook his head jokingly, and shoved off of Jamie. After wobbling for a few seconds to get his stance right, his hormones directed his body to a cushioned couch in front of the performance stage.
There was a lovely, little lady with, ‘a whole lotta’ junk in all the right places,’ dancing for the audience before her. Her curled, bleached-blonde hair was swinging through the air in it’s own sensuous twirls.

 

While she was attractive, Jamie didn’t find the sexual attraction like most of the men throwing dollar bills at her feet. Frankly, his night had been a bust in finding a one night stand.


Unlike other nights, he just couldn’t seem to get in the mood of taking a chick home with him. Oh, but he was certainly in the mood to drink, which was why he looked he was off-his-ass drunk, because he was.

 

He was so wasted, that instead of telling Caleb he was going for a piss, he blindly made his way out the front door, mistaking it for the restroom. When he felt the chill of the crisp, outside air, and turned around to re-enter the bar, the bouncer chuckled at him and booted Jamie from a few more hours of partying.

 

“Sorry bud, you’ve met your limit. Go home,” the muscular, bald, broad man grunted.


Jamie shrugged, beer still in hand, “is cool bro.”


With a raise of the bottle, and a cheeky smile, the young, rebellious teenager ventured out onto the street, whistling drunken party tunes.
***

“Mr. Kimbling?”

Dakota flitted his eyes upward from grading papers for a few seconds to take in Jeanna Parken’s, one of his many students, silhouette. His brow raised.


“Hmm?”


Jeanna’s face flushed, and her throat contracted, “before I go, I’d just like to know if you do after hours tutoring? I know you couldn’t meet me at my dorm, so I was thinking at the coffee shop a few blocks down…”

 

A few seconds of silence passed until Dakota, finally, pushed back from his desk and looked up at the anxious, young woman in front of him. Her green eyes were wide with hope, and her chest was puffed out in confidence.


“Tutoring, Miss Jeanna?”


“Oh-uh, yeah. I need some extra help in your class it seems,” she moved her bag to her left arm, and ran her manicured fingers through her chestnut hair.

 

Dakota frowned. If he would have known being at the age twenty-five, as a history professor, that he’d get unwanted attention from multiple female students, he would have slowed down in his learning years. Unfortunately, he never was the person to have a hard time in school.


At first, receiving flirtatious advances has been flattering, and boosted up his already huge ego. But now, after a year and a half of teaching, it was getting rather tiresome. Don’t get him wrong, Dakota knew he wasn’t ugly, but he also knew he wasn’t international movie-star material either.


The sexual innuendos were only a blend of young, feminine fantasy and raging hormones that would soon fade after a year or two. 

 

The teacher cleared his throat, “Miss Parken, while I’m flattered for the underlying offer, I’ll have to refuse. I have scheduled tutoring days listened on the board.”


He nodded towards the whiteboard, notting that the clock said it was just past midnight and began to pack up his things.
“Try coming during one of those planned hours, deal?” 


Jeanna’s eyes dulled, “yeah, okay. Thanks.”

 

Her footsteps echoed out the door, with a very pissed off note of being turned down. Dakota smiled to himself and shook his head, soon walking out the same door as his student had.


He navigated his way off the campus, and onto the sidewalk of the quieter part of New York. The moon was full, and the stars twinkled their greetings at him playfully. The chilled air drew into his lungs, and released at the memorizing sight as he began walking his way home.


That is, until he heard a commotion coming from the park across the street. Though it was dark, he could make out three figures. Two were sitting on a park bench, with either a burning cigarette or joint, while the other shadow was standing in front of the bench.

There was a hiccup, “you kids go home, give me those too, and I won’t tell your parents. Deal?”
A hustler, huh? Dakota started across the street.
                         ***
 



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