Like I said in my last post, Fraser* was a bad boy. And him being a bad boy made him sexier than ever. His bike made him hot, and his ice blue eyes made him dead sexy. Fraser and I started hanging out just about every weekend, and even a couple times during the week. He would come and meet me after my softball games, and sometimes I would go meet him after my games.
Fraser and I had a lot of fun together. It was all carefree, and most of the time we would just sit around and have a few drinks with his buddies. Me and my friends hung out there almost every weekend, and 9 times out of 10 all my friends would get drunk while I was being a designated driver for them all.
I was also very naive as a high school student, and there was even one weekend where Fraser's friend was rolling a couple joints right in front of us (not smoking them), and I was the only one who had no idea what the hell was going on. Fraser and his buddies apparently were into some recreational drug use because this wasn't the first time they brought the stuff around new people. Fraser never got high in front of me, but he did smoke his cigarettes.
I surprisingly thought that I had a lot more to say about Fraser but it seems like I don't. So here's the breakup:
About three weeks before we broke up, Fraser got into a TERRIBLE accident on his bike. He was taken to the hospital where he had road rash all over his forearms and upper body. While he was in the hospital, he asked his roommate to call me and ask me to come up there. So I went to the hospital, where both of his parents were. They shook my hand and said "You're Blake*? He's been asking for you for hours. Go ahead and go back there." It kind of freaked me out because we had only been together for a couple months and I thought it was weird he wanted to see me when there was a good chance he could have died. Especially because we hadn't had sex at that point. Luckily he had his helmet on and it didn't break his neck.
I went over to his house almost every day to kind of take care of him. I helped change his sheets and bandages, and made sure he took his medicines and ate. After a couple weeks, he felt a little better. I was over one weekend when he talked me into having sex with him. He was kind of short, and he was pretty big for how little he was, if you get what I'm saying. It hurt, but it wasn't awful like my first time where I cried in the middle of it. The next night, I came over, and he had over-medicated himself. When I walked into his room, he looked at his roommate and said "What the hell is SHE doing here. WHERE'S SARAH*?!" I had no idea who Sarah was, but the roommate told me it was this other girl he liked. Okay, thanks asshole.
Three days later, he broke up with me. No real explanation, but I definitely felt like he used me for sex then said peace. Jerk. So that was the end of Fraser.
My name is Blake, and like I've said before, sex changes EVERYTHING.
*all names have been changed to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent
Update on Fraser:
I actually saw him one more time before I lost contact with him. I think it was near the end of my senior year in high school, when I was happily in a relationship (Fraser and I happened at the beginning of my junior year). He and I just hung out at a local ice cream shop and got sodas and talked a little bit. I don't know that I ever tried to contact him again, but after that afternoon getting drinks, I never heard from him again.
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