In a world when you meet you soul-mate, your chest glows, Clark and Nolan are two freshmen in college who hated each other in high school, are now roommates. What happens when Clark starts to have some feeling for Nolan, and then their chest lights up? Cover artist:


12. CVS condom run


I called Clark a total of 6 times before texting him.


Me: Clark where are you?

Me: Clark you said you would be home soon!

Me: Are you okay? Should I call the Police?

Me: Clark, please.

Me: Clark?


I sent those texts in the middle of the night, waiting anxiously for him to answer. I sat on the small futon staring at my phone in my lap, checking every few minutes, or maybe seconds, to see if he replied. I was too worried about what happened to him, was he kidnapped? Raped? Dead in some alleyway? Oh god! Please God no.

He didn’t reply until 8:46am.


Clark: Sorry Dear, it’s a long story.

Clark: im coming home right away.


Oh sweet Jesus he’s not dead in some alleyway. Sighing with relief I texted him back.


Me: Don’t scare me like that!


He returned to the dorm room, looking like absolute shit. He was disheveled, dare I say… moist, and a pungent smell was wafting off of him. I honestly was so angry at him, he told me he was coming home that night and he never texted back, or called me back. I sprang up, and faced him.


“Nolan, first of all im sorry for not answering any calls or texts.” He apologised.


“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOU?” I raised my voice. I was mixed up with anger, sadness, and relief at the same time.


“Nolan, please let me explain.” Clark raised him palms to calm me down. He explained that it rained, and he ran into a tent to wait out the rain, he got caught up in the drugs and passed out.

I couldn’t believe it, I never took Clark to be the one to get caught up in drugs.


“Clark, you need to stop with the drugs. You don’t know what you’re getting into. And don’t think you off the hook just yet. I’m still pissed.” I pulled him into a hug, stroking his hair, which stunk like a sweaty locker room full of stoners.


“You need to take a shower, really bad.”


“Ha, okay.” He was stiff in my arms, I wondered if I was holding him too tightly.




I looked around the empty tent, checking my phone for the time. I unlocked it and saw that there were 3 new voicemails. From Linda.


Fuck my life!


I opened the first one, listening to it. I cringed when I heard her voice.


“SEAN! You psycho douchebag! Why did you leave to the concert without me? I thought that you were going to pick me up at 7:00! Are you high again? UGH this always happens, we get ready for a date and then you totally get hazed. What is wrong with you!”


The next one was 10 minutes after the first.




God, Linda is such a crazy bitch. I pressed to hear the next one, but I already knew what it was going to say.


Sean, this is the last straw. This is probably the billionth time you bailed out on me. I need someone who can treat me the way I deserved to be treated. Its over Sean, goodbye.”


I wasn’t too much at loss at what she said, I have been wanting to dump that bitch forever.


Deleting her from my contact lists, I finally noticed that the one guy from last night was gone.  


I wonder who that person was.


Rolling up the sleeping bag, I stepped out into the blaring sun. The air was hot and thick, and  the stage crew were taking down the stage, bit-by-bit.


I left the tent there, it was Linda’s. And now that were through I don’t have to worry about it. Some lucky son of a bitch was going to steal it, or its going right to the landfill.


I went to the curb, wiping off some raindrops from last night.


I got in my car and drove. Where did I drive? to Linda’s shitty apartment of course! I was going to get all my stuff back. There wasn’t much of mine there, just some of my CDs we listened to, my bong I got from Jamaica, and some of my clothes.


I pulled in her driveway and noticed a cardboard box labeled ‘FOR GARBAGE’ on the side of road, with all of my stuff in it. Ha, very funny. That cunt.


I picked up the box, noticing that there was still some weed in the bong.


“Is she really that stupid? Leaving weed out for the whole world, and the cops to see isn’t going to be good.” I muttered under my breath while putting the box in the back of my black 2000 Honda Civic.  I drove out that driveway for what was hopefully the last time I have to.


I'm just grateful that she put all of my stuff in a box outside the house. I didnt want to rummage through empty match boxes and nail polish remover. She had an amatur meth lab right in her kitchen.


{[SEAN’S POV] (rape trigger warning)}


I was working the night shift at the local CVS right by Michigan Tech. My ex-girlfriend Margo goes there. I wonder if she still has Herpes, which was the reason was the reason I didn’t let her within 5 meters of my cock.


Personally I didn’t go to college. I was already fucked up enough that I didn’t need student loans to fuck my horrible life up even worse.


When I was only eight years old my Uncle raped me in the basement of my birthday party. He raped and tortured me for several years after that. My parents never knew what was going on, they never batted an eye at me. Never thought of anything when my uncle pulled me aside with pure terror in my eyes. They never heard the muffled screams. He died when I was 17, finally the hell I was living was over right? Not exactly. I still dream of him, in my nightmares. I dream of him tearing me apart, choking me with hands five times my size. And everytime I wake up, having horrible panic attacks. I remember last year for my 24th birthday I came home and saw a picture of my demon uncle over the fireplace. I had one of my biggest panic attacks and never came back home.


Every dream I have is a nightmare, every night is torture.

Drugs help though.


But sometimes, I have a different nightmare. I dream of being stuck in a car, struggling to get out. I just have to wait until the car kills me, I can never escape.


Inside of the store walked in a old man, closely resembling Jimmy Savile. He picked up a bottle of cheap vodka and a pack of smarties. He was probably going to get smashed and lure some kid into his sex dungeon. When I rang up his stuff I heard the bells of the door. I peered over to see if its those 15 year old “gangsters” who steal wine coolers and Snickers.

But, instead I see a familiar face, one with chocolate brown hair and freckles.  The old man left while I watched the boy, who was probably 18-19 years old.  He grabbed a raspberry Arizona Tea and two boxes of condoms. He came up to the counter and froze when he saw me.




Oh! I know this kid, he was the same guy who jerked it in my tent a few nights ago.


“Well well well, if it isn’t Stoner-Boner!” I was pleasantly surprised to see him.


“Wait, did you just call me, Stoner-Boner?” He placed the drink and condoms on the counter.


“Yeah I did.” I picked up one of the boxes, noticing he got one regular sized and one extra-large.

“Hey, I think you made a mistake, I think you grabbed two sizes by accident.” I pointed to them.


He blushed.

“Uh, no. Its no mistake, we need two sizes.” He rubbed the back of his neck, cringing.


“Oh, Stoner-Boners getting busy!” I chuckled.


“Clark.” He stated. “My names Clark.”


“Well then Clark, since you're obviously a virgin i’ll give you a tip. When you're doing it with a guy you’re going to need some lube-”


“Wait! How did you know I was a virgin, and how do you know i’m gay?” He asked dumbfounded.


“Well, first of all I could tell that you were gay because it was not a mistake when you picked up two sized condoms. Two dicks, two guys. Your gay.” I moved my hands while I talked. It was an annoying habit of mine.


“But how do you know i’m a virgin?”


“You didn’t pick up any lube. Unless you're big on S&M and you like it to hurt, and by the looks of you you're definitely not the type to like S&M. Only amateurs don't pick up lube when doing it with a guy. And if you ever experienced anal sex without lube you will never make that mistake ever again. So, I conclude you to be a virgin.”


He was star-struck.

“Thats some Sherlock Holmes shit right there.” He was still flushing.


“Ha, people usually hate it when I do that.” I rang up the rest of his stuff. “They usually say stuff like, ‘Fuck you,’ or ‘Get lost you creep’.”


“I think you have a talent. You’re very observational.” He pulled out his wallet but I stopped him.


“What?” he asked.


“Unless you want your asshole ripped to shreds I highly suggest you pick up some lube.”


He sighed and went back to the store. I waited a few moments until he arrived back with a purple box, all of the color was drained from his face.


“Thats better.” I said as he put the box on the countertop.

“What's wrong, see a ghost?” I chuckled while pointing out his shocked expression.


“There is a nun in the back of the store, who heard every word of our conversation.” He leaned in whispering, “She’s praying like a motherfucker back there.” Thats when we both cracked up, giggling and struggling to stand up. Laughing like 7th graders who just heard the word “dildo”.


I didn’t feel like a peice of shit for that moment.


“You know, you're a pretty cool guy Clark. Not bad for someone who jerked it in the first hour we meet.” I placed all of his items in a opaque white bag with a big CVS logo on it.


“Does that happen often?” He snickered.


I let out a deep sigh, recalling my other job.

“You have no idea,” I leaned on the counter, putting my face in my hands.

Should I tell him? What the hell, i’m going to.

“You see, my other job is as a stripper.”


“Uh, what?” He leaned closer as if he heard wrong.


“I pole dance. You know, take off your clothes, get money shoved down your pants. A stripper.”


“Oh….” He let it settle in his brain before sudden realization kicked in, “Really?!” the corner of his mouth perked up.


“Don’t even think about it.” I deadpanned.


We talked for about two hours until it was the end of my shift. He waited for me at the door when I changed out of my awful white uniform polo and into my favorite muscle shirt. It showed off my favorite tattoo, on my left arm there was a giant dragon that covers my entire arm.


He complimented me on my tattoo while I locked up and followed me to my car. Before we said our goodbyes we exchanged numbers, agreeing to become friends.


This is good, a friend.

A friend to hang out with, to be stupid with.

This is a good step forward.


“Oh yeah, just because I gave you my number doesn’t mean i’m going to sleep with you.” I teased.


“I wouldn’t count on it.” He walked to his car, saying “Bye.” over his shoulder.


“Bye.” I said entering my own car.


Its time to go home and wake up with another fucking, terrible panic attack.


Hopefully the weed will help me through it.



[Author's note: I have a new story out, and its called Little Miss Perfect. I hope you all read it, im having lots of fun with it! Plus leave some comments about what you thought of the new chapter! What do you think of the new character?]


Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...