[F]riend of a Friend [M]

((I’m 5’10, creamy pale in complexion with a slender toned body, 34Ds and a plump, proportional rear. Deep green eyes compliment it all along with my gothy sense of style. At the time this story took place I was 18, with raven black hair which came to about my jaw length – its a bit shorter now))

I[F] Got Fucked Up With Crazy[M] (Long)

“*Hey, Lucy.*”

“Hey.”

I greeted him (we’ll call him Eric) as he took the empty seat beside me on the bus, a kind smile flashing across my black painted lips.
He and I had only spoken a few times throughout high-school and then through college but we were already on a first name basis, talking as if we hung out regularly. But I knew he wasn’t the sociable type – neither was I in all honesty.

Perhaps that’s what our connection was?
Two hapless loners, our mere presence gripping the other in this thick fog of weird sexual tension that seemed to float about us, connecting through how oddly pathetically lonely we were…
or maybe it was the mystery. No one else hung out with him, or hardly anyway – he does say ‘hello’ to some people but not to the same degree. What *we* had — was special. Or maybe we were just horny 18 year olds who knows?

But then the nagging thought comes back to me:
‘*why does everyone avoid him?*’
‘*why does he avoid everyone else?*’