Queer bent bastard

“Well, I’ve had better,” I responded.

As we were sitting there discussing what had happened, how I felt, and what I was planning for the summer now that Jason and I were not likely to go on our three week trip to the mountains, the doorbell rang. I got up to answer it. As I was crossing through the living room, I noticed a dark blue Mustang parked out front.

I opened the door. Standing there was Kent Logan, the quarterback of the school’s football team. “Hi, come in,” I said, feeling very confused. Why was the quarterback of the football team at my door? It wasn’t that we didn’t know each other, but we were certainly not friends. Hell, we were barely acquaintances.

He just looked at me for a second and grinned before stepping into the foyer. “Don’t look so surprised,” he said with a laugh. “I just came by to see how you were. I guess nobody told you, but I’m the one who tried to run over you. My mom and I went to the hospital at noon, but all they said was that you were treated and had been released.”