Jon couldn't stop thinking about Biff throughout second and third period. He could still pay attention to his teachers, was still participating in class discussion. But in the back of his mind, the moment that Biff turned to look at him kept playing on repeat.
Sometimes that felt confusing. Like the sensations Jon felt at the memory were somehow incorrect. But other times, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. And in those times, once or twice, Jon caught himself involuntarily squeezing his crossed legs against one another, as though trying to stimulate muscles that were deep within him. The sensation felt good.
But Jon mostly kept his focus on his classwork, until eventually it came time for lunch. He entered the cafeteria and found Karyn at their usual table. But as he approached, something felt wrong. Like, Jon knew that Karyn was his friend, and he knew that he always sat with her at lunch, but there was something missing as his thighs glided past one another again and again, bringing him closer and closer.
It was just habit that drove him forward, he realized. As he looked at Karyn, and as she looked up at him, there was a spark to her eyes at the sight up him that Jon could not figure out how to return.
For a moment, Jon thought of Biff, and the spark he was searching for appeared. And it was being delivered in Karyn's direction, but its target was Biff.
Jon felt an increasing discomfort as he approached Karyn's table. Like a pocket of bad gas that wouldn't move its way down his guts. He finally arrived at the table and went to sit down, but his legs wouldn't bend and the pressure of gas increased. Like there was a blockage in a hydraulic piston that wouldn't allow him to sit.
Jon masked the motion, or lack of motion, by setting his tray on the table and straightening back up for a brief moment, before redoubling his efforts and forcing his legs to bend so that he could sit at the table. And with a snap, like the hydraulic piston had suddenly cleared, he was seated.
But in that same moment, the bubble of gas followed the same path as the tickle had that morning, up through Jon's chest, into his throat, and out his mouth as he found himself saying, "You don't have to try so hard, Karyn" without meaning to.
"What?" Karyn's expression dropped.
Jon wanted to apologize. He wanted to take it back. He wanted to try to laugh it off like it was a joke. But instead, his legs crossed themselves, and they squeezed, and another bubble of gas floated up through him as he said "Your hair, Karyn. We know it doesn't come naturally to you."
With the pressure in his gut gone, Jon felt much better. Confident. Like he was just where he belonged. A smile formed on his lips at the sensation.
"What the fuck, Jon," Karyn leaned over as she hissed across the table. "You know this hair is new for me."
That made Jon hesitate, his smile falter. That was right, Karyn hadn't always had this hair. She'd made a wish, and-- the thought drifted away. Jon shook it off and looked at Karyn with an appraising eye. He knew that she was pretty, and he knew that he'd been attracted to her, but he wasn't now. He looked deliberately down the neck of her shirt, where her cleavage hung heavily. But the sight didn't mesmerize him like it might have in the past. Karyn's boobs were just... there.
He uncrossed his legs and recrossed them the other way again, and a series of small bubbles released themselves upward from his gut. "I can't believe you're wearing such a low-cut top. You're such an attention whore."
Karyn's expression when from shocked to hurt. She didn't have any words.
Then Jon felt that hydraulic piston once again, back with a vengeance, and he found that he could not keep himself seated. In a smooth motion, the pressure shot him into a standing position, and he picked up his lunch tray, and he turned around without a word, walking with a gait that was exaggerated even by his new standards, as though to rub salt into Karyn's wounds.
As Jon walked away, he felt a giddiness rise up within him. It wasn't quite the same feeling as when Biff had looked at him. But it was in that neighborhood.
Biff.
Jon peered around the cafeteria in search of the larger boy, and quickly found where he was seated. But that table was already full, so Jon satisfied himself with sitting at the next table over, softly humming to himself as he ate his food, eavesdropping on Biff's conversation and imagining that every word was just for Jon.
