An Unknown AttractionChapter 2 An Awkward Introduction
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My Shallow Regret, Chapter 1 - Introduction free porn video
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A few years ago, I tried to put out my first TG serialized
story, but I ended up abandoning it after about 2 1/2 chapters. Last year
I decided to revisit it, and after doing some serious reworking on what
I'd already done, I managed to put together a complete story. I'm
releasing it here for the first time (well, second time for the early
chapters) in pieces, but the entire thing is done, so I promise that you
won't have to start reading this and be left hanging. This chapter is an
introduction to the characters and settings, with no TG elements yet. The
TG starts in the next chapter, but I highly recommend you read this one
to get the necessary background.
===================================
"Reboots always suck."
Mark closed the door on his Ford Explorer, and I knew we were in for
another debate. This had been our routine ever since we were old enough
to go see movies without a parent with us. After the movie let out, we
would analyze it from all angles, often disagreeing but never dismissing
the points made by the other person. When we were younger, these debates
would take place in the lobby of the theater, often times while our
parents waited frustrated in the parking lot. Once we were old enough to
drive, the parking lot became our battleground. No matter how late the
showing of the movie, we'd be out there, right next to his Explorer or my
Charger, like a couple of fanboys on a message board.
We'd just left a midnight showing of "The Amazing Spider-Man", which I'd
liked, but Mark... well, I'm not sure it's fair to say he didn't like it.
He seemed more opposed to the concept of it than upset by anything that
actually happened in the movie. It shouldn't have come as a surprise.
He'd been on his anti-reboot stance ever since the movie was announced.
"What about 'Batman Begins'," I retorted. "That was a reboot, and it was
awesome."
"OK, so ONE reboot didn't suck. But how many others did? 'Superman
Returns' was awful, 'The Thing' was unwatchable, and you just know the
new 'Bourne' movie is going to be a disaster."
I didn't respond.
"See, Andrew, you know I'm right."
"OK, but aside from it being a reboot, what actually sucked about the
movie," I asked. Now it was Mark's time to fall silent. "If you look at
it objectively, it was really no worse than Raimi's first Spider-Man."
"I don't see why they couldn't have just continued the series, even if
only to keep MJ around. A Spider-Man movie without her just isn't the
same. And even if you replace the cast, bring on a new director, why not
just keep it the same Spider-Man?"
He had a fair point. As I tried to think of a rebuttal, I started
thinking of my own life. How nice would it be to get a "reboot", just
like Spider-Man got? Pick and choose the best parts of my story to keep,
drop the parts that didn't work - I'm looking at you, dancing emo alien
suit - and get a fresh start.
"Dude, you OK?"
I realized I'd spaced out for longer than I thought.
"Yeah, just thinking."
But I wasn't JUST thinking. I was cataloging. Going through my life and
thinking about all the mistakes I'd ditch from my own personal reboot. My
life wasn't bad, at least not in a global perspective. Any time I got
down, I tried to remind myself of that. You know, how like your parents
would tell you there were starving kids in China who didn't even have
food to eat when they wanted to get you to eat your vegetables? When you
took the whole world into consideration, there were billions of people
who had it worse than me. On the flip side, there were millions, if not
billions of people who had it better.
It wasn't always this way. Back in high school, I was one of the big
shots on campus. It helped that I was big, literally. Six-foot-3, 290
pounds, I was a star offensive lineman. Sure, our team wasn't great, but
the football players run the school at every high school, and we were no
exception. Mark was our quarterback and I was his left tackle/bodyguard.
We got everything we wanted, and it was incredible. I knew it wouldn't
last forever, but I'd hoped it would last a little longer.
Neither Mark nor I was recruited to play in college, but at least he
stuck it out without football. I enrolled and tried walking on to the
football team, but it was clear two days into practice that I wasn't cut
out for the game at that level. My parents tried to convince me to give
community college a shot, but I told them I just wanted to take some time
to think. That was six years ago.
It's not like I've sat around doing nothing for six years. I got a job
working at the Apple Store, and I make decent money. Not enough to live
on my own, which, of course, is another problem coming up in my life. I
let out a big sigh.
"My mom is kicking me out," I said.
Mark looked surprised. I wasn't sure why. This had been a long time in
the making. My parents had been threatening to make me get my own place
for about two years now, but this time my mom was serious.
"I have to be out by the end of the month."
"Dude, that... that sucks," Mark said. "I mean, you know I'd offer to let
you move in with me, but I've only got a one-bedroom and Monica spends
most of her time there as it is."
Ah yes, Monica. Mark's essentially live in girlfriend. Hell, calling her
a "girlfriend" probably wasn't accurate at this point; they were
practically engaged. I think Mark was just waiting for his promotion to
go through at work before he popped the question. We'd both been working
at the Genius Bar for a while, but he was ready to go corporate.
Meanwhile I was staring at a future of living in a 300-square-foot studio
apartment, spending 40 hours a week swapping iPhones and never seeing my
best friend because he was spending all of his time with his better half.
Yeah, suddenly a reboot wasn't looking so bad.
"No, I know. I'll find a place."
"Hey, you wanna grab a drink?"
I pulled my iPhone out of my pocket and looked at the time. It was almost
3 a.m.
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna call it a night. I just got a new hard drive for
my MacBook Pro and I wanna get that installed before I hit the sack."
"OK, sounds good."
Mark opened his door and started to get into his SUV, but then turned and
looked back at me.
"Hey, Andrew," he said. "I know you're off tomorrow, but if you wanna
grab lunch, I should be on break from 2 to 3."
"Cool," I said, half-heartedly. "I'll catch you later."
Mark got in his car and drove off as I walked across the empty parking
lot to my car. The lights in the lots were flickering. Mine was the only
car left, and as I approached it, I couldn't shake the thought that
something just felt wrong.
*****
I pulled into my driveway at 3:15 a.m. and tried to be as quiet as
possible as I headed up the stairs, which is easier said than done when
you're as big as I am. I may have been 6-3, 290 in high school, but that
was more than six years ago and in the time since then, I'd made far too
many trips to the Burger King at the food court on my lunch breaks. I
still worked out when I had the time, but it was mostly strength stuff.
Cardio, flexibility, agility... that was all stuff I did just to play
football.
I walked inside, being sure to lock the outer door behind me and set the
alarm for the night; I knew my mom would get on me if I didn't and I
didn't need that hassle. I headed upstairs and walked past my sister's
room. I could hear music playing, which meant that despite the late hour,
Alana was still awake. That was no surprise. Hell, the surprise was that
she was even home. She might only be 16, but she parties like she's 25. I
think that's part of the reason my parents want me out of the house, to
send a message to her. They think that she sees me cruising along living
at home and she'll be able to get away with doing the same, no matter how
fucked up her life gets.
In a way, I feel bad that I haven't been a better influence on her. I
mean, the smoking, the drinking, the piercings, it's not like she got
that from me, but it's not like I've been a positive role model to look
up to either. For a second, I thought about knocking on her door and
seeing if everything was OK - though I knew her definition of "OK" was
far different from mine - but instead I just kept walking to the end of
the hall and the same room I'd lived in for the better part of 20 years.
My room was something of a mess, with dirty clothes piled up, two
computers in various states of disrepair and a general desperate need of
a good dusting. Still, it was my room, and I didn't really look forward
to leaving it behind. I peeled off my 3XL Apple Store T-shirt; despite
the rules against us wearing them outside of the store, I did it pretty
much all the time. The solid color T-shirts were perfect for someone like
me, who'd always been a lazy dresser. I'd had girlfriends in high school,
and even since, who'd tried to get me to be more fashionable, but I never
saw the need for anything other than a basic T-shirt and jeans.
I threw my jeans in the same clothes pile and grabbed a pair of
basketball shorts to wear for the night. I didn't have much work to do
with this MacBook hard drive install, but I wanted to be comfortable as I
did.
I sat in front of my already-disassembled computer and pulled out the new
hard drive, a 256-gigabyte solid-state drive, designed to infuse some new
life into this three-year-old computer. The new drive had arrived this
afternoon, but I only got halfway through the installation process before
I had to go to work and then the movie.
I popped the hard drive in, closed up the machine, and then inserted the
OS X install DVD so I could start fresh. I considered reinstalling from
my Time Machine backup, but all this talk of reboots got me thinking; if
I can't have a fresh start, my computer sure can. Hell, I wish it were
that easy for me. Just take out the last five years of "data", the
college misfire, the failed relationships, the dead-end job, the extra
weight... the extra weight on top of the extra weight... just dump it all
and build a whole new me.
I quickly clicked through the default installation process, and the
progress bar slowly moved along, indicating the complete installation
would take just 27 minutes. Imagine that, a completely fresh start in
less time than it takes to watch a single episode of "Parks and
Recreation." That thought gave me an idea; instead of staring at this
stupid progress bar, let me fire up the DVR and throw on an episode of
"Parks & Rec." But first, I decided to head downstairs to grab a soda
from the fridge.
I went down to the kitchen, and who should I see there but Alana, pouring
herself a glass of vodka.
"You know, it's a little late and about five years too early for you to
be drinking that," I said.
"Fuck off."
She was in quite the cheery mood.
"I'm just saying..."
"Yeah, well why don't you shove another donut in your fat mouth so you
can stop saying."
God, the fuck is her problem? It's one thing for me to feel a bit of
remorse for not being a better role model, but sometimes she acts like
I'm personally responsible for every single thing that's gone wrong in
her life. And sometimes she's just a raging bitch about it. Maybe it's
just that time of the month.
Rather than engage her and continue this amazingly high-level discourse,
I just grab a bottle of Diet Coke - yeah, because THAT'LL solve all my
weight problems - and head back upstairs as she heads out to the porch,
likely to smoke one last cigarette before passing out drunk on the living
room couch.
I swear she wasn't always this bad... and hell, I wasn't always this bad
either. But a few months ago our parents decided to separate, and to no
one's surprise that had a negative impact on the entire family. Alana and
I are much quicker to snipe at each other, and our mom is much quicker to
yell at us for it. I don't blame her, since we're both well past the age
of having "sibling rivalry" type fights. Besides, she's got bigger shit
to deal with than my me and my sister I hating each other. I think that's
part of the reason she wants me out... so she can focus on that bigger
shit. It'll probably help having me out too, since if mom and dad do
decide to get divorced, they'll probably have to sell the house. Parents'
separation, moving... God, it's just more shit for the reboot pile.
I get back upstairs, and the progress bar is already at 23%. Only 21
minutes left. I could turn on the TV, but instead I just plop on to my
bed, watch the progress bar, and eventually fall asleep.
*****
The buzzing of my iPhone's text message alert roused me from my sleep,
though it certainly wasn't early. I rolled over and grabbed it off the
nightstand, and it was already 12:45. I unlocked the phone and there were
three text messages from my mother.
"Headed out for the day. Won't be home tonight. You're on your own for
dinner."
"Need you to pick up your sister from the doctor at 4:00."
"Also, don't forget to look for apartments. Should be plenty of places
opening up in August."
Oh, yay, this should be fun. I casually tossed my phone aside and slowly
dragged myself out of bed. I felt like I had a hangover without actually
having had anything to drink the night before, which is a really shitty
feeling to say the least. It wasn't necessarily physical, not like I was
about to puke or anything. It's emotional. I was just now realizing the
shittiness of my situation, and I couldn't say I liked it one bit.
Fortunately I could meet up with Mark for lunch and blow off some steam
before I had to pick up Alana. Her doctor is only 10 minutes from home,
but that 10-minute car ride was going to be excruciating. And being in
the same house with her all night was going to suck just as much;
although it's far more likely that she ducks out five minutes after we
get home. She might be grounded, but she's never cared much for authority
or rules, and I highly doubt she's going to start now.
I had a little bit of time to kill before I need to head over to the
mall, so I headed back over to my computer desk to resume what I started
last night (well, technically this morning). One tap of the spacebar woke
the computer and brought me to the initial setup screen. I see these
every day at work, but it had been awhile since I had the opportunity to
do one for myself.
The very first step asked if I want to transfer information from a backup
or another computer. I glanced over at my two-terabyte external hard
drive and considered connecting it and restoring all my original files,
but instead I slid my finger over the trackpad and clicked "no."
When prompted for a user name and password, I typed in "Carlysle" - my
last name, the same user name I've used on every computer I've ever owned
- and my default password, "TwoFour603972". At my job, I always advised
people to pick something easy to remember but hard to guess, and in this
case I took my own advice. It was my birthdate - Dec. 30, 1986 (or
12301986) - multiplied by two then spelling out the first two digits. It
was a trick Mark taught me years ago and I'd kept using throughout the
years. Easy for me to remember; hard for others to guess.
As soon as the user account was set up, the computer immediately prompted
me to install about a dozen software updates. I hit the button to get
those started, and then got up and headed down the hall to the shower. If
I was going to go out today (and I didn't really have a choice in the
matter, since I had to pick up my sister), I might as well clean up
before I left.
I dropped my shorts and stripped off my shirt and got the water running.
After just a few seconds, it was warm enough to shower. I took off my
boxers and, before I got in the shower, I took a look at myself in the
mirror. I couldn't say I was happy with the guy who looked back at me. He
might only be 25 years old, but thanks to his weight and his stubble and
his slightly receding hairline, he looks much older. And he certainly
doesn't look happy. But right now he just looks like he needs a shower.
*****
An hour later, I was showered, dressed and on my way to the mall to meet
up with Mark for lunch. I threw on a pair of cargo shorts and a Patriots
T-shirt (yeah, I'm a real snappy dresser!) and grabbed a soda from the
fridge before heading out. I'd pulled out of the driveway and was halfway
down the street when I realized I'd never checked on the software updates
on my computer after my shower, which means it was probably sitting there
waiting for me to click "restart" before installing another round of
updates. Oh well, something to do tonight before the Red Sox game comes
on.
After the short drive over, I pulled into the mall's parking lot. One
thing that sucks about working here - well, one of the many things - is
that even when you're here on a day off or as a visitor, you have to park
in the designated employee parking spaces, otherwise you'll get ticketed
(and if you get ticketed enough, you'll get towed, which super-sucks). I
shouldn't complain, since other stores in the chain are at malls that
only have paid parking, but the spaces are pretty far from the nearest
entrance, and, as I've mentioned, I'm not in the best of shape. Plus,
it's really fucking hot out. Like 90 degrees, which might not seem that
bad, but it's also like 90 percent humidity. I almost didn't even want to
get out of my car.
Finally, after sitting in the AC for a few more minutes and staring at
the clock, I got out and headed toward the store. It was 1:55, which
meant Mark should just about be headed to his break. Perfect timing. Or
so I thought.
As I got in the store, it was swamped, even by Apple Store standards. And
Mark was behind the bar helping an elderly customer with a new iMac,
which could either mean it'd be two minutes to fix the dumbest problem
ever or two hours to fix an even dumber problem.
I didn't want to interrupt, so I just kind of hovered behind the people
at the bar, at least as much as a 6-foot-3, 300+ pound man can "hover",
and after about a minute or so, Mark spotted me. He stepped away from his
customer and out from behind the bar, and gave me the traditional
handshake/bro-hug greeting we always shared.
"Hey, so we doing lunch?" I asked him. "I can wait around if you're
swamped."
"Yeah, about that..." he responded, hesitantly.
I quickly saw him looking past me and I turned around to see Monica
entering the store. Of fucking course.
It's not like I don't like Monica. Quite the opposite. Well, wait no, not
exactly the opposite. It's not like I'm attracted to her. Sure, she's
good-looking, especially today, wearing a tight blue tanktop and black
leggings with her blonde hair pulled up and her Gucci sunglasses covering
half her face. She's just not my type. And I'm definitely not hers, as a
dating option or even a friend. And she was clearly trying to push us
apart. Literally, in fact, right now, as she pushed her way between us to
give Mark a kiss on the cheek.
"You ready, sweetie?" she asked him, not even acknowledging my presence.
"Yeah, I just gotta finish up with this one guy, then I can take my
break," he said to her.
I sighed loudly. Well, not incredibly loudly, but definitely loud enough
for Monica to pick up on. She turned around looked at me. At least I
think she did. I couldn't really tell behind those glasses.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, in the smarmiest way possible. "Did you two
have plans?"
I thought about telling her off right there, but I knew that wasn't going
to help matters in any way. Plus, for all my big thoughts and plans and
mental declarations, I'm generally a non-confrontational person. I think
it's what made me such a mediocre football player. So instead of telling
her what I really want to say, I just admit defeat.
"No, it's cool," I said. "I was just stopping by to make sure everything
was okay here."
I knew my voice didn't mask my disappointment, but I didn't really care.
I didn't even wait for her response, or Mark's before turning around and
making my way out of the store. I turned down the hall and made my way
to Panera Bread. It wasn't my first idea for lunch, but there was no way
Mark and Monica would be there, so it wouldn't be awkward. On the way
there, my iPhone buzzed again. It was probably my mom, nagging me again,
so I just hit the power button to ignore it.
I got down to Panera and I saw... her. No, not Monica. Panera Bread Girl.
I'm assuming "Panera Bread Girl" isn't her actual name, but that's what
I've called her ever since I first saw her six months ago. She doesn't
wear a nametag - none of the employees at this Panera do - so I don't
know what to call her. I'm pretty sure she told me her name at one point,
but I was too busy staring at her to actually hear her.
I'd ask her out, but then we'd live in a world where she most likely
rejected me, instead of a world full of possibility where she hasn't
rejected me yet. I make no delusions about the fact that she'd totally
reject me. She's so far out of my league we're not even playing the same
sport anymore. There's no way she'd ever date a guy like me, and that's
assuming she isn't already dating someone.
I walked up to the counter and said pretty much the only words I've ever
said to her.
"Hi. Umm... Smokehouse Turkey Panini, no tomato, with a large Diet Coke."
"Is Diet Pepsi okay?" she asked in response. I'd been coming here
regularly enough that I know Panera is a Pepsi affiliate, but I always
order Coke, just to hear her ask the question.
"It's fine," I said.
"Okay, that'll be $7.23."
I handed her my credit card, she ran it and then handed me my receipt. I
moved down to the other end of the counter to await my order, but I
couldn't help but look back at her as she helped the next customer. She
was about 5-5, maybe 5-6, with short, wavy red hair, but not the kind of
red that looked clownish or fake. It was more like an auburn strawberry,
and the soft waves perfectly framed her beautiful face while
complementing her green eyes. Her body was amazing, and she somehow even
made the boring Panera Bread uniform look sexy. She had curves in all the
right places, with the kind of breasts that came straight out of a
Victorian painting. I could only imagine how great she'd look dressed up
for a night out. But unless I grew a set, it's not like I'd ever see her
like that.
I tried not to stare, but I couldn't help continually glancing over.
Finally, after what seemed like a period of time that was both too short
and too long, my order was ready, and I took my tray over to a seat in
the corner, out of view of the counter area. I knew the only way to keep
myself from staring at Panera Bread Girl was to not even be able to see
her. I quickly ate my lunch, and then made my way out of the restaurant.
When I left, I turned and looked back one last time. As I did, the red-
headed beauty smiled and waved at me.
"Have a nice day," she said.
I couldn't tell if she was just being polite, or if there was something
else there. Either way, it brought a smile to my face.
Of course, that smile was quickly wiped away when I checked my buzzing
phone. There were two text messages, both from my sister. The first was
the one I'd received before lunch, and the second had just arrived.
"Got an earlier appointment. Pick me up in like 10 minutes, OK?"
"Hey, I've been waiting for you for like forever. Where the fuck are
you?"
Great, instead of getting a handful of moments to enjoy, I have to go
pick up my spite-filled sister, who's already pissed at me.
"Sorry, got hung up," I texted back to her. "On my way now."
I was going to head back up to the store, but instead I went straight to
my car. I hooked up my iPhone to the USB input and turned on a Kanye West
album. I knew my sister didn't like Kanye, or rap in general, and I
wasn't intentionally trying to antagonize her, but I just needed
something to go my way today.
A couple songs into the album, I pulled up at Alana's doctor's office.
She was sitting out front, smoking a cigarette, and looking pretty pissed
at me. She got up and into my car, tossed her purse on the floor and
buckled up without saying a word to me.
"Sorry I'm late," I said.
"Do we have to listen to this crap?"
10 minutes. I just kept telling myself "10 minutes." I wasn't sure
whether to even try to make small talk, but I guessed it was better than
sitting here in silence (well, not silence... Kanye's hot beats... but
still...). I turned down the music and gave it my best shot.
"So, how was the doctor?"
She let out a bit of a derisive laugh.
"Really?" she asked. "You really want to know?"
I didn't know how to respond. Before I could, she began to speak again.
"Yeah, well seeing my OB-GYN was awesome. I took off my pants and got in
the stirrups and she looked up my vagina. Of course, you know all about
that."
I still didn't say anything.
"Because you have a vagina."
"Because I have a vagina," I said back, sarcastically.
"Well, I just assumed, since you've got bigger boobs than me."
OK, small talk was a bust. I just turned the music back up, right as it
was hitting "Runaway." The lyrics seemed incredibly appropriate at the
moment.
"And I always find, yeah, I always find somethin' wrong. You been puttin'
up wit' my shit just way too long."
Yep. That about covers it.
Alana slipped on her earbuds and started listening to... well, anything
that I didn't like. I really didn't care anymore. I gave the friendly,
familial small talk a shot and now I just wanted this drive to be over.
Fortunately, just a couple minutes later it was. I pulled into the
driveway. Alana didn't even wait until I came to a complete stop before
hopping out. She wanted to get away from me so quickly that she even left
her purse in the car. I parked the car and grabbed the purse. By the time
I got inside, Alana was already upstairs, and I heard her door slam. I
thought about bringing her purse up to her, but instead I just tossed it
on the kitchen table.
I knew things had been tense between us, but she seemed more on edge than
usual. I was pretty sure something was wrong, but I didn't even know how
to broach the subject with her. So I just headed up to my room.
As soon as I got in, I saw my computer asking me for a reboot, as I'd
expected. I sat down to finish off the updates, when I got a text
message. It was from Mark.
"Hey, dude, sorry about earlier. Monica just kind of sprung that surprise
on me."
"No biggie," I texted back. "I had to pick up Alana early anyway."
"So we cool?"
"Yeah, we cool."
I wasn't sure I meant it, but what was I going to say? "I'm pretty sure
your girlfriend hates me and is monopolizing your time to keep us apart
and I don't blame you for choosing her over me because she's pretty hot
and puts out on the regular while I'm just your fat friend you talk about
sports and comics with." That wouldn't even fit in a text message.
"Hey, you gonna be at the barbecue tomorrow?"
Ah, the annual Fourth of July block party barbecue. Mark and I had been
going for years, since he grew up right down the street from me. He lived
in a different city now - at least one of us moved out of our parents'
house - but he still came to the barbecue every year.
"Yeah. See you there?"
"You know it. Gotta get back to work now. See ya tomorrow."
I didn't really want to go to the barbecue, but if it meant getting to
hang out with Mark, I figured I'd put up with it. Plus, maybe the
celebration would put my mom in a good mood and I could talk her out of
making me move out.
Shit, that reminded me. I hadn't done any apartment hunting today. Well,
since it was 2012, I could pretty much do it online. But first I wanted
to take a nap. I was still feeling a little groggy from having stayed up
so late last night, and to be honest I had a headache that didn't really
feel like it was going away any time soon.
So I hit the restart button on my computer and flopped back into bed.
Just for a quick nap...
Dani
- 15.10.2020
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