A Cappella 6

"I'd rather support my local Jazz!" We heard from Will in the background. "That Karl Malone is such a hottie.thank God I'm out of Mormon country, boys." And he ran off to his dorm. And I ran off to mine to read all about what the hell was wrong with the first version of Ampere's Law we had learned.

Friday never came.well, of course Friday came.but by Monday it hadn't come, and by Tuesday it hadn't come, and when it hadn't come on Thursday, I resigned myself to the fact that Jesus was the Messiah and Friday had come last week, and any attempts to see either one in this world again would be futile. But as things turn out, just after I had given in to a Friday-less world, there it was, the next day, glorious Friday. While God took off his shoes and put on his slippers to prepare for the Sabbath as if he were Mr. Rogers, I donned my sexiest attire for the concert.

I walked into the chapel, eyes scanning for Don Benjamin, but all I saw were a bunch of the guys from the dogs sitting in a little clump in the middle. The pitch waved my over with an "Oh, Billy, darling!" and I slumped into the chair next to him. He noticed me glancing around the room. "Hey, Billy.Billy!" he shouted, as I was too absorbed in my own Ben- seeking world to hear anything. "Would you keep your eyes and brain in your own head for a second, and hang out with us?" The pitch playfully slapped the side of my face.

"Sweet Jesus, Billy," he began to whisper, "Haven't I told you to keep your head, don't give any to Ben." I paused, wondering whether the implication that I was giving him head lay in the comment, but before I could ponder the point to conclusion, I felt a slight bustle behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes landed on Ben, staring directly at my face. I was about to smile, when a dark, elegant hand fell across his shoulder.

To Ben's right sat Will Courtney, dressed to the nines, and beaming ear to cartilage-pierced ear. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't scream, nor cry, nor mope and sulk sufficiently. I just looked at the stage where the performance was soon to start. "You all right, Billy?" questioned the pitch from my left. "Um, yeah, fine.just a little burnt out from the week and stuff. Out of curiosity, didn't the two of them break up?"

"Ha, yeah, for about two days," scoffed the pitch, "Really, Ben doesn't know what the heck he's doing. He and Courtney just bicker or get sick of each other, split, each nail some poor fool, and then get back together. They just keep hurting everyone that way, themselves not least of all." I could tell the pitch was a tad bit sloshed by his candidness, but he was talking painful sense.

"Each nails some poor fool, huh?" I asked quietly, but the pitch could sense he had said something wrong, as he focused concern from his eyes to mine.

"Well, not a fool, necessarily, someone naive or easily blinded or maybe even not so easily blinded. They're both hot shit and talented in everything they do. And I mean everything they do!" He gave me a smirk and an eyebrow raise. I returned the expression, nearly forgetting the second man behind me, adding in a verbal "Aw, yeah!" when he imploded.

All of the pitch's smirking and nervous drunkenness turned stone cold. "So, he did get you. I told you not to let him get you. He was your first? Yeah.he's a horrible first."

"No, he was wonderful." Tears just started in my eyes as a choked.

"Did he make you feel like he cared about you?"

"Yes!" "Did he make you feel like you were beautiful

and wonderful?"

"Yes!" "Did he make you feel like you were choosing him

as much as he was choosing you?"

"No, I suppose not. But why does that matter?" "Because that's respect, Billy. Consent doesn't just mean that you didn't shout no.' You should both sayyes' before it begins. If it's not totally awkward for both of you, it's probably not worth it. You're not on an even playing field with him, Billy."

"Shut up and let me watch the concert." I snapped at the pitch as the lights dimmed. I was so confused. I hated Ben; he had betrayed me and played me, but he had given me a happiness that nobody else had ever given me. He had let me ride an emotional high that I could have bottled and traded for E. Was the cold, dull pain so bad that it wasn't worth that. Seriously, who was the pitch, my musical, not spiritual and emotional leader, to tell me with whom I should be angry? Who was he to guide my romantic life? He's not my Mom, he shouldn't care this much.even Mom shouldn't care this much! It's my life, and my boyfriend, or my one-night-stand, or whatever we made of it? Whatever I made of it!

And I could fight Will for him, or I could bang him on the side, if I wanted to do so, thank you very much. What's a loss of sexual power if I get what I want? It's not a loss of power if I am totally gratified! Man, the pitch is just contradicting himself up the wall. whoo! Tough cookies to him. Maybe he's just so upset that Ben dumped him that he's going to try to deny him all possible pleasure and deny anyone near him the pleasure of Ben. Selfish, power-tripping pitch-prick, who can shove his finger-baton exactly where I tell him. His smile woke me up, I suppose. Not that I was sleeping, I was more seething in my own world, but when I turned left and the pitch was the only man there, in the entire chapel, I screamed and jumped out of my seat. "Where did they go? Why are you here? Get out of my life and my room! You're haunting me! You're like a vampire.sucking the pleasure out of my life. Sucking the sex out of me!"

"Ooh, sounds fun," he looked mildly amused.

"You're evil. Ben's not evil, he's just such a sexual beast he can't control himself. You want other people to be unhappy. You're jealous of me and Ben and you're here to.eat me and take my luck and love and lust and life! Wait.are you going to kill me out of jealousy?" I didn't know how else I had wound up alone with the pitch in a large room in the middle of the night.he might have knocked me unconscious and brought me here.

"Billy, didn't I tell you not to mix the acid and the prednisone? Seriously.you just totally spaced out. Where have you been for the past two hours, man? You missed the whole jam! And I'm not going to hurt you, so stay!" His last comment was cued by my attempted exit.

I calmed down, slowly, when I realized that nobody had died.I had just been used by my crush and provoked by a somewhat drunk friend. "Man, are you jealous or what? I mean, why are you trying so hard to interfere with my relationship with Ben? I mean, I know he hurt you bad, but I think I just might be able to make it work. It'll take work.hell, it'll take a battle, but I think I can get him if I try." I slumped into a comfortable seat, ready to argue my case in a calm, mature manner. `You can't lose if you keep your cool,' I told myself, hoping that my outburst hadn't totally blown the effect. "Why do you want him? Because he's pretty?

Because he's cocky?" The pitch sat in the chair in front of me, looking over the back.

"Because he excites me. Because he's an unconquerable adventure that I've somehow gotten just a finger around. Nobody ever gets the crush.the real, unattainable crush. And I got him! Maybe not entirely, but he's older and beautiful and sexy as all hell and I got just a bit of him. Why would I want to abandon that quest?"

"Well, if you're looking for an adventure, then there's no reason to abandon it, I admit. If you're looking for a relationship, then the answer's clear. You need a real, honest-to-God nice guy." I snickered at the phrase. "No, seriously. Studs make great crushes, but it's the homely demi-dweebs who will make you happy in the end. He's not the pinnacle, Billy, you deserve someone so much better than he is. Will and Ben deserve each other. They're both."

"What?"

"Well, total assholes." "Shut up! Get out of here! I don't want to see you anymore."

The pitch just smiled at me calmly, gazing into my eyes and shaking his head, a motion that tossed his hair around the contours of his face.

"Out, out, out! Mush, dog, mush!" I stopped at my own words, as the vowel changed in my head. I realized I was staring into his eyes and loving the hair.the mush colored hair capping the mush colored eyes. He just kept smiling. I was in tears. "Why are you still here?"

"Because I'm the pitch. If I leave, everything collapses. I have to keep the rhythm intact and the tune pretty." He gave a big, toothy grin, I laughed beneath my tears, and he leaned in.

Would it be too predictable to say that my heart turned to mush? I suppose so.but I absolutely melted into his soft, soft lips. I was at home, so at home in the chapel, underneath the religious iconography, kissing a sweet boy. Perfect. I rubbed my face against his.feeling the softness of his cheeks, the gentle tickle of his stubble, the flutter of his eyelashes. We kissed and intertwined some more and then broke our kiss. "Would you like to come back to my dorm?" I asked the pitch.

"Yes, I would.but I don't think I will. I'd love to have dinner with you tomorrow, though." We called it a deal. Ben, well, I still thought Ben was hot. He was, hell, he is! To be perfectly honest, had the pitch not been such an amazing kisser I might not have even tried the relationship thing, but boy am I glad I did. After I blew my physics final, after I got into a screaming fight with my mother that nearly got me disowned, after I pulled an all-nighter and a fast in one day, I had someone to hold me and love me in every sense of the word. I never have an excuse for not knowing my music, but no matter what my problems are, as long as he is there the beat goes on.

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written by storiesopassion