!! Trigger Warning: sexual harassment/assault, homophobia !!

I think you already got that - back then - I was everything but good at making friends in real life. What did you talk about with somebody you’d just met? When we’d formed our guild in WizQ, we had at least been able to talk about gaming stuff…

But there was one thing I really didn’t get…

“Why the heck do I have to wear a tie?”

Taken aback, Holland stopped tapping critically at her lower lip. “Why? Well, nobody wants to make friends with a nerdy guy in ragged clothes. Plus,” She lifted her index finger. “it’s on me, so shut your cakehole.”

Yeah…Whatever.

Holding on to my shoulders, she turned me from side to side until I was facing myself in the oversized mirror at Sak’s Fifth Avenue. I crinkled my nose. The white dress shirt made my already pale skin look even paler, and the dark grey tie around my neck didn’t just feel like a dog leash; with the tiny white dots printed on the fabric, it looked like one, too. The black jeans and the just as black sneakers were the only things that suited me…that is if they hadn’t been brand new and far too expensive.

“What do you think?”

I shrugged.

“Wow, don’t be too excited. But” She got in front of me. “something’s missing.”

Something…missing?

I was looking down my body, my bangs falling low into my face when Holland suddenly exclaimed “Of course!” and reached for my hair. “This has to go.”

I grabbed her hand before she could touch me. “No.”

“But…”

“I said no.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever. But the rest is not negotiable.”

“Fine.”

It were just a bunch of clothes.

Or that’s what I thought before my well-dressed me was getting more attention from my fellow students than I could’ve imagined when I entered school grounds the next Tuesday after our bank holiday. Students who’d made a habit of ignoring me were actually saying hello when I sat down next to them in class.

As if clothes made the man.

Now I just had to find out if the clothes had the same effect on the soccer team…

Or...maybe not.

After class, right before practice was about to start, I was supposed to wait for Clay at the sports ground. At least, that was the plan…

But instead of waiting for the team…instead of waiting for Clay, I was crouching behind the old oak tree that served as my reading spot in summer, trying to calm my pounding heart. “Ican’tdothis. I can’t do this. I. Can’t. Do. This,” I panicked.

What had I been thinking?!

A loner like me would never be able to make friends with Clay Prescott!

Never!

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!”

Dusk was already falling, and I was still sitting below the oak tree dealing with my self-doubts when Holland approached me. She stamped her foot on the ground, her eyes were shooting daggers at me. “This will never work if you keep on hiding out here! Let’s go!”

Before I knew what she was up to, Holland had already grabbed my arm and was dragging me towards the building that contained the locker rooms. Practice was over — yep, that’s how long I’d been struggling with my doubts — and through the open door of the locker room I could hear a lot of manly laughter. One last time, Holland straightened my shirt and tried taking my backpack from me, but I was clinging to it frantically.

Shouting at me to hurry up, she pushed me right into the locker room.

The smell of sweat, sticky air, and the rustling of the running showers in the adjacent bathroom hit me like a wall of testosterone — welcome to the soccer team’s locker room. It was a sacred place open only to those who excelled at their sports.

The room was packed with adrenaline, half-naked soccer players…and me; the lanky, pale nerd stumbling right into their sacred halls. 

All conversations broke off when I bumped right into someone’s broad naked back and fell backward to the ground.

“Ouch.” I rubbed my left wrist that hurt from the impact.

A pair of naked feet came into my sight. “Well, well, look what we got here.”

My face blanched even before I looked up. I knew that husky voice.

Of all the players I could’ve bumped into it had to be Drake Gordon turning towards me. Broad arms crossed in front of his chest he leaned forward until I could smell the minty breath of his chewing gum. The smell alone would’ve made me gag if my body had still been able to move. 

I gulped when Jack and Hayden stepped next to Drake, covering me with their shadows. A shiver ran through my already trembling body that could still feel the bruises from the last time they’d beaten me black and blue.

“Looks like a peeping Tom to me.” Jack snipped his finger against my forehead. “You wanted to get a good view, did ya?” His slim mouth formed an ugly grin.

If you had asked me about my worst nightmare, it clearly would’ve been this situation. Three predators and their terrified prey. But it was not a dream. This was real. 

“Mhm…dressed up for us, have ya?” Hayden let his index finger move over my chest and grabbed my tie. I knew it had been a terrible idea to wear that thing when he suddenly pulled me forward.

When I was up on my knees, Drake leaned in even more and blew his peppermint breath right into my face. “Wanted to ogle our dicks, huh?”

“N…no,” I stammered.

He smiled, but in a way that made my blood run cold. “Of course, you did.”

Hayden let go of my tie which made me fall back once more. Then, when the three of them exchanged dark glances, the evil look on their faces terrified me.

“Watch closely, faggot.” Drake put a hand on the white towel that was wrapped around his waist.

I squeezed my eyes shut and just heard the rustling sound when their towels hit the ground. I didn’t want this. Never had, never would. Just because I liked boys didn’t mean I liked every boy! Less, assholes like them! 

“Open your eyes!”

A stone-hard fist hit my chin. I kept my eyes shut.

“Huh, now you’re too shy to look?” Jack pulled at my hair to drag my head backward. 

Why? What had I been thinking?

And why were the other players just watching?

Any minute somebody would stop them, wouldn’t they?

Wouldn’t they?

Nobody stopped them.

Who did I wanna fool? They were all the same. It wouldn’t have surprised me if some of them were even saving this for the internet.

I was on my own…once again.

“He’s not looking,” Hayden pointed out the obvious.

“Hmm. Maybe he doesn’t wanna see ours but wants to show us his.”

I froze. No.

I tried shaking off my stiffness, fighting against Jack’s hand in my hair, but he kept dragging me back.

“Shut him up,” Drake ordered with a merciless voice.

No. “Please…” I whimpered. “Don’t do this.”

I fought until Hayden tore the backpack from my shoulders and held my arms behind my back, so I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. Jack turned my head and punched against my temples until my eyes snapped open and I had to watch Drake approach me.

“You fags are so stupid. We’ll unpack your sorry ass and kick you outta here. Butt ass naked.” Drake was laughing. “That’s what happens with little fags who don’t know their place.”

“H…help!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my eyes searching for someone who would save me but as soon as our gazes met, the other players would look away. “Help me! HELP! H…”

Jack pressed his palm over my mouth.

Drake kneeled in front of me but everything I could see were his hands getting closer to my crotch. No! I screamed into Jack’s hand and tears shot into my eyes.

So, this was my punishment for agreeing to Holland’s plan. So stupid. I was so so stupid.

I closed my eyes when tears started streaming down my cheeks.

Nobody would help me.

“Are you insane?!”

My eyes snapped open and fell on the hand that had stopped Drake's fingers right in front of my jeans’ button. Hayden released me, Jack let go of my head…

…and Clay Prescott was staring at Drake with murder in his eyes. Tiny drops of water were running down his sun-kissed body, the towel loosely wrapped around his slim waist. 

I sobbed. He’d heard my call for help.

When my three tormentors seemed frozen in place, I knew this would be the only chance I’d get. Clumsily, with limbs that didn’t know if they should be stiff or ready to run, I crawled on all fours out of the locker room. Barely did I manage to get on my feet when somebody was calling out my name. 

But stopping was the last thing I’d do. 

Chapter 3 - End