A gay story: Nature’s Calling
Author’s Note: This story is for the Earth Day Story Contest 2012 so please, please, please don’t be hesitant with your votes. Or your criticism. Either one works for me.
Thank you so much!! I hope you enjoy!
Hugs and Kisses!
VampGirl.
******
~*~Day One~*~
I slapped a mosquito getting ready to greedily begin draining my precious blood supply.
Were the little bastards multiplying? As soon as I squashed one, two more were waiting impatiently on the sidelines to latch on. The bloodsuckers were freaking swarming me. I cursed that damn bug repellent that had grossly exaggerated its claims to leave the recipient bite free and unmolested from creepy crawlies for up to twelve hours. Try twelve minutes and that was generous.
Or twelve seconds, I thought, slapping my palm to my neck.
Clomping through twigs, dirt and other forest debris, navigating around the giant sequoias and fragrant pines, I breathed in a deep lungful of the crisp, fresh air. No hint of exhaust fumes or the revolting stench of dumpsters long overdue for a visit from Mr. Garbage Man. It was refreshing, I had to admit that, but I still resented the fact that I’d allowed myself to be dragged from the safety of my nice, comfortable dorm.
Nothing good could come of this. Already I was missing a pint of blood, I could feel blisters forming on my feet and every few minutes a branch would just happen to break free and brain me.
To say I wasn’t the outdoorsman type was an understatement. Anything bad that could happen in those supposedly great outdoors I had experienced: getting snagged by the seat of my pants as a tot while climbing a tree, dangling precariously for hours because I was too stubborn to relinquish my pride and call for help; kayaking and getting more soggy than I anticipated when the motherfucker capsized on me, no match for the rapid water; mistaking myself as bait and getting my cheek hooked while fishing, garnering me a nice little scar.
Not only that, but the weather forecast never factored me into the equation. When sunshine was predicted, it turned dark, cloudy and foreboding the minute I ventured outside. When storm clouds were percolating up above, I’d go out and thunder rumbled ominously, white-hot lances piercing the charcoal sky. A simple rain turned into a hurricane warning, mild winds segueing into a tornado.
Suffice it to say, we were a volatile match, Mother Nature and I. I loathed the temperamental bitch and the feeling was entirely mutual.
A fact proven as a felled tree materialized out of nowhere and tripped me. The forest floor suddenly came up and whacked me in the face.
Grumbling under my breath, I heaved myself up to my hands and knees, spitting dirt and pine needles from my mouth. I glowered ahead of me at Molly and Rick, resenting the hell out of both of the little twits for dragging my sorry, lazy ass to the middle of scenic no-fucking-where. As if being a third wheel wasn’t enough, I was now dirt stained, abraded and in desperate need of some dental floss.
I narrowed my glare at the back of Molly’s pretty red head, wishing for heat vision for the briefest second. It was her damn fault I was out here in the first place, forcing me to trample through the lush vegetation of the forest and incurring the wrath of Nature herself. Her fault I’d spent six torturous hours in the car with her and her nauseatingly doting boyfriend Rick from Los Angeles to San Francisco. Her fault I was now mosquito bait.
All. Her. Fault.
And it was all because I’d been dodging her false, unfounded and completely not true claims, the manipulative wench.
Allow me to paint the scene: me, sitting there like the studious psych major I was, the prof standing at his lectern rattling off his thoughts on neuroscience of free will in his bland, droning, snooze-inducing voice, and Molly furtively motioning to me three rows down. I ignored her to the best of my ability, alarmed by that familiar gleam in her emerald eyes. I recognized that gleam, dreaded that gleam. It never boded well for me. I always ended up doing something, entirely against my will, that I forever regretted.
I was still scarred, both mentally and physically, from our failed rescue of the lab rats attempt. Those suckers bit, hard, and the mad scientists imprisoning them had freaking acid at their disposal. I was still debating over forgiving her for that one.
Okay, digressing here.
There I was, ignoring her, or at least trying to, when Molly’s patience wore thin and she began stage whispering my name.
“Ethan. Psst, Ethan. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan. Earth to Ethan Sharp.”
My cheeks flamed as I attempted to meld and become one with the wood of my chair, sinking so low down my chin snapped sharply against my desk. Our fellow classmates snickered, shoveling a heaping pile of kill me now to my mortification, and Professor Hennings even halted his lecture at the disruption.
“Mr. Sharp, Miss Fitzgerald,” he droned, “is my lecture interrupting your stimulating conversation?”
“No, Professor,” we meekly replied.
His beady eyes bored into us. “May I continue?”
“Yes, Professor.”
I successfully evaded Molly for the remainder of class and even managed to dodge her when we were finally dismissed. It was only stalling the inevitable, though. She knew where I lived.
Only sixty seconds had elapsed since my mad dash into my dorm room when the door suddenly swung inward, rebounding off the wall and revealing Molly. That had to be a new record for her. Nothing and no one could thwart her when she was determined.
And by that gleam in her jeweled eyes, she was very determined, indeed.
I groaned in defeat. “What do you want this time?” I demanded, collapsing onto my bed.
“Camping. You, me, Rick and the glorious outdoors,” Molly announced gleefully.
I blinked. Me and the outdoors? She had to be fucking kidding me. “You’re fucking kidding me,” I muttered.
“Nope. ‘Fraid not, lover. We have an extended weekend on our hands and we are gonna take advantage of it.”
“Why?” What I was really asking was, why me? Or maybe it should’ve just been, bury me now. ‘Cause Nature would fucking murder me if I reneged on the tenuous truce I had with her to keep my distance.
“Because you owe me one, Ethan.”
I scoffed. “The hell I do. If anything, you owe me.”
Shrugging, she leaned against my desk, arms folded over her chest. The movement caused her breasts to plump up, giving an enticing hint of cleavage. It should’ve excited me, revved my engine, made me drool, something, but I remained infuriatingly unaffected. “We could stay here all weekend instead,” Molly suggested, her all-knowing gaze steady. “Discussing your failure to face the truth confronting you head-on.”
Not this again. I rolled my eyes even as my hands balled into two impotent fists. “Don’t start, Molly,” I warned, or maybe pleaded, quietly. “Was I not a good boyfriend to you? Did I fail to impress you with my sexual prowess?”
“You’re an exceptional lover,” she said, smirking as my cheeks flushed an embarrassing scarlet. “We always had fun together but a woman knows, Ethan. You were always distant, detached, better suited as a friend than a boyfriend. I wasn’t what you wanted or needed.”