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I initially had no intention of making Exposure anything more than a short story, but I found the characters compelling, and it seems others found them so as well! So, before I fly off to my 7-day vacation cruise tonight, here is the second chapter. This is the first time I've ever written a story and published each chapter before the whole book is finished, so if you see some inconsistency, please let me know. I reserve the right to come back at a later date and change their reality if I think of something good that I should have put in here! :-)

And without further ado, Jason and Dox continue their lives...

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Dox lay in his bed staring quietly at the ceiling, but what he was looking at wasn't the acoustic texture seven feet above his head. Instead, he saw the devilishly handsome face of the man who wore the number 88 for his high school's football team. Jason Thomas. He supposed it was too early to be thinking in terms of being a couple, but... damn, it was tough not to hope. His strong arms, his deep blue eyes, his sense of humor. And his scent...

Dox sighed, bringing his arm up to his nose, trying to catch one last fleeting hint of Jason's smell that might be hiding in his fur. He thought he caught the faintest whiff of something, but it was probably just his overactive imagination. After they'd parted ways last night, the first thing Dox did once back in his own home was to take a bath and wash off the incriminating evidence of their sexual encounter. Semen was bad enough to get out of your fur when it was still wet, but when it was dry and crusty, it was murder. It took a flea comb to get all the little flaky bits out, and now he almost wished that he hadn't been so thorough. It was like washing a part of Jason away, and that made him sad in a way he couldn't explain.

His paw rubbed over his chest where Jason had exploded all over him, and then worked its way down to his belly. To his dismay, there was a lot of belly there to rub. Jason was the hottest jock in the school, and he could have had any of the girls he wanted. Hell, Dox thought, he could have had half of the guys, too! He was that good looking. And of all those people, he chose Dox? Chubby little Dox with the pigeon toes and slightly bowed legs? Nerdy little Dox with the high-water pants and the Sears & Robuck shirt? How long could this possibly last? As soon as Jason realized what was available to him, he'd be off like a shot. Last night was probably just a fluke, just a way for Jason to release some pressure.

Nobody wanted Dox.

And then he felt something cool and smooth pressing against his side on the bed, and, unbidden, Jason's words came back to him. "It's my grandfather's pocket knife. It's the only thing of his I have left, which pretty much makes it the most valuable thing I own. I know you have doubts that I'll come back, so why don't you keep hold of it, okay? That way you can be sure."

Dox reached over and took the small knife in his paw, turning it over in the light, examining it from every angle. Jason had carefully tucked it into the front pocket of Dox's jeans, and Dox had no cause to doubt that it was, indeed, the most important material thing in the world to Jason. "You can give it back when you feel more secure about us," he'd said. Dox wondered how long that would take? How long before he believed in his own worth sufficiently that he could begin to accept that someone else might love him, too?

The small, sable-brown Labrador sighed, rubbing his thumb pad over the rough surface of the knife's handle, the physical sensation helping him to imagine what life the knife had led in service to Jason's grandfather. Had it cut a peach in half on a hot summer day, to share between Jason and his granddad? Had it whittled a small wooden toy for him? Or cut loose one of his hopelessly knotted shoelaces?

Opening the larger of the knife's two blades, Dox tested the sharpness and almost cut his finger on it. Sharp, but not shiny. Years of being carried in the same pocket as coins and keys had dulled the finish to that of a well-worn tool. The same finish, he realized, as was on his treasured camera. Worn, but not worn out.

Out of curiosity he sniffed the joint where the blade met the handle, and discovered rich smell there. Along with loose change, the pockets of the knife's owners had carried their smell,and now it was embedded deep within the metal and plastic. Dox closed his eyes and breathed deeply, allowing himself to be intoxicated by the scent of his boyfriend's genetic heritage.

Were they boyfriends? He supposed they were. Jason sure treated him like one, opening the door for him to get in the car, then driving carefully all the way home. Dox had his grandfather's knife in his hands, and he had worn Jason's jockstrap home last night. He acted happy with his choice, but Dox thought Jason deserved better. Quietly returning the knife to the pocket in which it would live until he returned it to its rightful owner, Dox resolved to make himself more appealing. He could pressure his parents to buy him better clothes and he could start going to the gym and lose weight, anything to keep from losing Jason.

Jason was spending his Sunday washing his car and getting ready to meet the other guys on the team for their pre-season meeting that afternoon. The team had run two-a-day practices for a couple of weeks at the end of summer to condition their bodies for the upcoming football season, and they were finally beginning to gel as a team. He'd spent hours after regular practice running drills with Tony, their quarterback, to fine-tune their teamwork. They had to operate as a seamless unit if they were going to lead the team to another winning season this year. He'd seen video of their rivals practicing, and they were good. Scary good. He couldn't afford to be distracted if he wanted to build a winning team.

But he was already being distracted way beyond his ability to ignore, distracted by a slightly small and extremely winsome brown Labrador named Dox. Dox had the most astounding talent with a camera, and was by far the most patient and intelligent person Jason had ever met. Even when he felt as dumb as a bag of hammers, Dox could help him understand. In the two weeks since school had started, in the two weeks since he'd first met Dox, he'd come to understand huge, huge things about himself. He didn't have to be stupid. He didn't have to intimidate other people to get them to respect him. And he could love another man.

Slopping the soapy sponge over the hood, he carefully washed away the road grime that had accumulated there in the week since he'd last washed the car. There wasn't much of it. Especially at the end of summer, very little rain fell in their region so cars stayed pretty clean. But one thing his father had drilled into him was that if you had something nice, you maintained it. And this car was one of the very few nice things that Jason had.

And he wanted Dox to have a clean car to ride in.

That thought, that he was doing this for someone else, jarred him. Up until now, he'd pretty much lived for himself. Was he going to start living for Dox's pleasure, now? Would he have to get all silly and faggy like the gays on TV did? Would he have to give up football?

That was stupid, he knew. There were rumors of pro football players who were gay, so he didn't have to give that up. And they sure didn't act all queer, so why should he? And Dox didn't go prancing around, either.

Yeah, it was stupid to worry, and that worried him. How stupid was he, compared to Dox? Dox was a fucking genius, a straight-A student, and he... well, he was a jock. That said it all, didn't it? How different could two guys be?

And yet, he felt so strongly towards him. He first realized that he was developing serious feelings for Dox when Joey and Dick had beat him up that first week. When he saw what they did to his friend he tried to keep his cool, but his vision had gone completely red, the way it does during a game when you're staring down a defensive line that outweighs yours by three hundred pounds. The only way you won in a situation like that was to get angry as all Hell and go in fighting mad.

In that instant he knew there was no way he could hold back his feelings for the little Lab. When the little guy had started to cry, he had seemed so wrenchingly innocent, so sincerely hurt, that Jason's heart would have had to be made of stone to keep from loving him. Taking Dox into his arms like he had was a first for Jason. He'd never felt compassion like that for anyone in his life, much less another guy, but holding him was the most honest and natural thing he'd ever done. As he held Dox gently, feeling sobs wrack his small body, feeling his tears wet the fur on his chest, feeling his arms clinging to him not in need but in trust, something inside him broke. After knowing him just four days and talking to him a couple of times on the phone for mostly made-up reasons, the barriers that Jason had spent seventeen years building up had come crashing down.

Jason rinsed off the hood of the Camaro and began soaping up the front fenders, using a small paint brush to remove anything hiding between the body panels. He'd won his skirmishes with both Joey and Dick, but that was probably going to cost him. According to Dox, Dick had sincerely apologized, and Jason believed that would be the end of the incident where he was concerned.

Who he was afraid of was Joey. Not in the sense that he'd find the other jock waiting behind the school to beat him up, but that he'd start up shit with the team that would tear them all apart. Joey was good at that. A dropped word here, a sly comment there, and before you knew it the team would be at each other's throats. He was a cunning little bitch, and if he weren't such a good defensive tackle, Jason would have fucked him over and left him to die on the gridiron a long time ago. What Dox had told him that first day was partially true. Associating with him was going to cause him trouble. Where Dox was wrong was that Jason didn't regret it. He didn't regret it at all.

Standing back, he admired his work. Clean and shiny, the yellow Camaro was blinding in the sun, chrome wheels throwing dozens of reflections of tiny, muscular Shepherds back at him. He knew he had deep feelings for Dox, but to keep him, he was going to have to fight for him.

Hard plastic crashed on the football field, jarring Jason to his core as the opposing defensive linemen slammed into him. As a wide receiver, it was his job to get past the defensive line and catch the ball if Tony threw it to him. The only problem was, as big as Jason was, the guards and tackles he faced were bigger. And to make things really interesting, one of them was royally pissed off at him right now. Joey, wearing the number 62 that designated him as a defensive tackle, still itched to slam him into the ground. Jason had no doubt that if he succeeded, he'd catch an elbow to the kidney on the way down, just for good measure.

Joey hadn't forgotten Jason's little stunt the previous week, and he wasn't likely to. Up until today, Jason had been fortunate. Joey had always been assigned to the same lineup as Jason, and tackles didn't get to slam into their own receivers very often. But now he was on the opposing team, and he was expected - no, encouraged, to hit Jason. And Joey obviously took that responsibility very seriously.

As they lined up against each other, Jason could see in Joey's eyes that he was savoring the opportunity, planning to make the most of it as soon as possible. He wasn't going to be shown up by this little pipsqueak, and putting him in traction would secure Joey's reputation in the school, a reputation that had been tarnished when Jason had slammed him against the wall and took away the cash he'd taken from that faggot Dox, in front of dozens of other people. Public humiliation did not sit well with Joey, and he knew exactly what to do about it.

"Someone's been spending a lot of time around the school faggot," he hissed through his face mask. They might have been three feet away from one another, but Jason heard him clearly. And if Jason did, that meant that half the team did, too. "You seen the way he looks at you? He's in love, man!"

Jason hated that Joey was using Dox's affection as a weapon against him, but he couldn't let him get under his skin.

"What are you doing about it?" Joey continued, "If that kind of shit doesn't bother you, maybe you're going a little soft, too."

"Shut the hell up, Joey!" came a voice from further down the line. The other guys were getting tired of Joey's trash talk, too.

The quarterback called the play and the field exploded into action. Jason made himself skinny and narrowly avoided Joey's bone-crushing onslaught, running ten yards down the field to catch a perfectly aimed spiral. He only gained a few more yards before he was brought down, but any progress at all was good. Games were won one small step at a time, his coaches taught.

The end of one successful play meant the beginning of another, and once again Joey positioned himself directly across from Jason. Breathing hard now, his stage whispers were ragged. "What's the matter, Jason? You starting to like the attention? Don't let him get to you, man!" The call was for a long pass, and as soon as the ball was snapped Jason jumped off the line, straight-arming Joey before the other man was even fully out of his crouch and sending him sprawling to the grass.

As before, Jason outran his guards and was wide open to receive the pass. The defensive guards had gotten past their opposition and were threatening Tony, who panicked and delivered a hurried pass that ended up being a little long. Jason leaped into the air and plucked the football from the sky like fruit from a tree. By the time his feet touched earth again his guards were waiting to smash into him, but the play was good. Jason's team was now mere feet from the goal line.

On the next play, Tony faded back and tried to spot an open receiver, but before he could snap the ball, one of the opposing team's end tackles slipped past his guards and sacked him. The ten yards that Jason had worked so hard to gain were lost, flushed down the crapper by bad luck.

"You're spending a lot of time with that faggot lately," Joey said, trying his best to make Jason lose his cool.

Truth be told, he was succeeding. Jason was about one snarky comment away from coming across the line and stuffing Joey's helmet down his throat.

Seeing that his jibes weren't penetrating, Joey went for the nuclear option. "You fucking him?"

"No, Jason said, tired of the game. "I'm too busy fucking your mother. But goddamn," he said, meeting Joey's eyes. "fucking her is like throwing a hot dog down a hallway. I don't know how you do it with that tiny dick of yours."

With a roar, Joey came across the line, gunning for Jason's head on a platter. Scrambling out of the way, Jason used Joey's momentum to throw him head over heels. The force of his body crashing to the ground made the earth quake beneath them.

The shrill warble of the coach's whistle cut through the commotion on the field like a hot knife. "YOU!" he bellowed, pointing at Joey, "Get the hell over here! Donny!" He pointed at a second string tackle sitting on the bench, "Get in there!"

When Joey finally moped is way over to the coach, his head was hanging in a synthetic remorse that wasn't even halfway convincing. His act didn't do a thing to make the coach want to take it easy on him. "What the Helld o you think you're doing out there?" the coach shouted, "You've been riding his ass all practice long, so whatever he said to you, you deserved it. Now haul your ass into the showers and cool off."

Swallowing his protests, Joey trudged off the field, shooting one last venemous glare toward Jason before he did.

"Wow," one of his teammates remarked, "it's so quiet out here, now that dipshit's off the field."

"Shut up and play ball!"

"You still up?" It was almost midnight, and the screen on Dox's cell phone burned brightly with the message.

He dialed Jason's cell number and went straight to voice mail. Thirty seconds later, his phone buzzed with another text. "Cant talk, but I can text."

"What's up, stud?" Dox wrote back.

"Thinkin of you."

"You're sweet. Up so late?"

"Late practice. Coach was reviewing videos of last season, then 8 pizza with the guys."

"Did you eat pizza, or did you eat 8 pizzas?"

"Smart ass."

"Have a good time?"

"Joey is a D-Bag. Givin me a hard time lately."

"My lack of popularity is wearing off on you."

"No, my impressive popularity will wear off on you! :-)"

"I love your positive attitude!"

"It's gonna rub off on you, too."

"I hope so."

"Gotta go. Sleep tight, dude!"

"See you tomorrow." Dox turned his phone off and plugged it into its charger for the night. He knew he needed to get some sleep for the next day, but instead he just sat there staring at his dead telephone, wondering where his life was heading. He rarely felt like his life was in his own control, and having a boyfriend hadn't changed that as much as he'd hoped. In the back of his mind, he'd always sort of thought that once he had a boyfriend, everything would fall into place, that he'd instinctively understand what to do. And yet, here he sat, as clueless as ever.

With a sigh, Dox turned off the light and curled up in his bed. The last thing he saw before drifting off to sleep was Jason pocketknife, sitting patiently on his night stand, waiting for him to put it back into his front pocket.

There was a spring to Dox's step the next morning which would have gone unnoticed if Candy hadn't said something. "You're sure happy today," she said, her voice mildly tinged with suspicion. "What up with that?"

"Nothing," Dox said, defensively, pouring himself a heaping bowl full of fruit-loops "why can't I just be happy?" Looking at the amount of food in his bowl, he thought better of it and regretfully poured half of it back into the box before covering it with milk.

"Because you haven't been happy to go to school since the fourth grade. And you're watching what you eat." Candy said, looking at him closely. "You have a girlfriend, or something?"

Dox considered for a moment before admitting, "Something." Seeing that his sister was going to press the matter, he quickly added, "Please, don't say anything to mom and dad."

She was looking at him with a smile on her face, but surprisingly she didn't say a word. After another few bites of his breakfast, Dox decided to confide in her. "I don't know if this is even going to work out, but I want to give it a chance. And I think the best chance I have is if mom and dad don't know anything about this, so..." he shrugged. "Please?"

"Yeah," Candy said, laughing, "I understand. I was the same way when I got my first boyfriend." Looking around, she lowered her voice and said, confidentially, "Who's yours?"

"I, uh... I think it's..." Dox hesitated - was he really about to..? Yes.. yes he was. In fact, he realized, he was damned proud to say it. "Jason Taylor."

Candy gasped. "What?" Then, remembering her promise to her brother, she lowered her voice. "How did you manage that? He's gotta be the hottest property in school!"

"You're asking me?" Dox asked, "I have no idea why he's interested." Hastily, he added, "But you can't say anything to anyone! Nobody knows about him."

Her laugh was as pure and innocent, and it reminded Dox why he loved her so much. "Don't worry about it, bro, you're safe. I'm not even going there anymore, remember?" Abandoning the toast on her plate, Candy got up and walked over to Dox, pulling him into a huge, warm hug. "I'm just glad someone in that stupid school can finally see what's really inside you, little brother." They might occasionally fight like cats and dogs among themselves, but Candy was, and always had been, on his side.

Heading out the door, Dox hoisted his book bag on his shoulder and started making his way to the bus stop. He was so fixated on ignoring the world around him that he didn't see the yellow Camaro sitting on the opposite side of the street. A rough voice barked, "Hey, Dox!"

Surprised, Dox spun around to see who was yelling at him, almost losing his balance in the process. "Jason!" he cried, his heart filling with light at the sight of his new boyfriend. "What are you doing here?"

Jason laughed, "I'm picking you up for school, silly! Get in."

Dox gratefully climbed into the passenger seat. "Thanks, Jason, I really appreciate this."

"I refuse to date anyone who rides the school bus," Jason grinned at him. "so you'll have to ride with me from now on."

"You've got football practice after school," Dox pointed out. "I'll still have to ride the bus home."

"You can take my car home and pick me up after practice?" Jason suggested.

"Your car?" Dox asked, skeptically, "Your pride and joy? I don't think so. But thanks."

Jason shrugged. "It's only a car, buddy. If anyone gives you a hard time on the bus, you let me know and I'll make them quit."

Dox looked at Jason shyly. "You're my hero again. I could get used to this."

"Good," Jason said, "I want you to get used to it. So what's next on your list of assignments?"

"I was thinking about doing the portrait, but that's going to have to wait. My model's got a big cold sore."

"Yuck," said Jason, "I'm glad I don't get those."

"So do you want to be my model instead?" Dox asked, hopefully.

"What do I have to do?"

"Just sit there and look pretty. You think you can handle that?" Dox teased.

"I think I can manage," Jason answered, reaching over the console and taking Dox's hand into his own. "When do you want to do it?"

"Any time you're free," Dox said, weaving his fingers through Jason's. "but you've got football practice every day after school, right?"

Jason nodded, "I guess it's going to be this weekend, huh?"

"Sounds like it. So what's next on your list?"

Jason dug in his pocket and pulled out his copy of the level one assignment sheet, handing it to Dox. Dox was pleased to see that it was becoming as filled with notes and ideas as his own sheet was. "I've been thinking about it a lot,"Jason admitted, "Every time I think of something good, I write it down."

Dox examined the hastily scribbled notes. Some of them he could read, some of them, not so much. Jason was a football stud with the penmanship of a doctor.

"What's this next to "A different angle"? It says something like "concrete bitch?"

Jason laughed, "Concrete bench." he corrected. "I've got an idea for that one, but I can't really explain it. Can we go out during class and I'll show you?"

"Sure," Dox shrugged, folding the list and giving it back to Jason. The rest of the short trip to school was spent listening to music, and Dox managed to relax a bit. But it all came crashing back when Jason pulled into the parking lot. "Where are you going?" Dox asked, as Jason wheeled his car around to the front of the lot. "This is where the seniors get to park."

"Yeah, but it gets better," Jason said, a devilish grin on his face. "One of the perks of having late practice every day is that we get to park in the athletic lot."

Dox felt a momentary panic. Parking in the same lot as all the jocks might be a great convenience for Jason, but it sounded like parking in a sea of angry dogs to Dox. Not wanting to express his fears to Jason, he stayed quiet, but Dox had serious doubts about this. Could Jason protect him in the lion's den?

"Hey, wait a second," Jason said, as Dox reached for the door handle. "you want to just sit here and talk for a minute?"

"Sure," Dox said, caught off guard. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"I dunno," Jason said, a tiny bit of uncertainty tinging his voice. "I've never had a boyfriend before. I didn't really have a chance to talk to you yesterday, and I sorta missed hearing your voice."

"Really?" Dox blushed, "I did, too."

"You missed talking to yourself?" Jason joked.

"No!" Dox laughed, "I missed talking to you! I love how you make me feel."

"Like what?" Jason asked, curious.

"Like..." Dox thought for a moment, "..like I'm important. Like I'm somebody special."

Jason was about to answer him when his car started rocking violently back and forth. Dox was startled, but Jason just laughed and jumped out of his car. "Hey, guys! What's up?"

From inside the car, Dox heard a flurry of back slapping and jock-talk, "Dude!"s and "Fuckin-A!"s. And then Jason's voice again, directed at him. "Dude! Come on out of the car!" And then to his friends, "Y'all know Dox, right?"

The other jocks grunted unenthusiastically, not really greeting Dox, but becoming momentarily aware of him for Jason's sake.

Dox slowly got out of the car, not wanting to face the two huge jocks on his side. "Don't worry, buddy," Jason said, "They look mean, but they won't bite!"

Dox had his doubts about that, but he trusted Jason to keep him safe, and he gave the two bruisers that were standing beside the car a weak smile.

Jason gave him a quick wave, "I'll see you in class, Dox, okay?"

"Sure, Jason. Thanks for the ride," Dox said, turning his back and walking slowly away. He was thankful that he didn't have to take the bus, but he felt like Jason had just dumped him for his other friends. "Trust him," Dox told himself. "Trust him."

Thoughts of Jason occupied Dox for most of the morning, but he found himself growing uneasy as he walked to the Photo lab. How was he supposed to act? He wasn't about to grab Jason's paw or anything, but on the other hand, was he supposed to ignore him and pretend that they weren't even friends? Whatever the right thing to do was, he wasn't sure he could do it.

Opening the door, he was relieved to see that Jason hadn't made it to the room yet. He quickly took his seat, and waited impatiently for #88 to show up.

"Where's Jason?" One of the bubble-headed girls who fawned over the Jock was leaning over his empty seat and staring at Dox as if he carried the keys to her universe. Dox was pretty sure he remembered her name.

"I don't know, Terry," he said, "I haven't seen him since this morning."

"Oh, okay." she said, biting the tip of her pen. "So y'all are pretty good friends, huh?" she said, surprising him. She'd never taken the slightest interest in him before - why now?

"I guess so," he said. "he's a really nice guy."

Jason saved him from further conversation by walking into the room just as the bell rang. "Hey, Terry," he said, shortly, before ignoring her and turning to Dox. "What's up, buddy!"

Happiness bloomed inside Dox. Jason still liked him! "You ready to tell me about your idea?"

At that point, Mr. Griffon took his seat and began their lesson, effectively short circuiting their discussion while he talked for fifteen minutes about choosing the best lens for your picture. While he explained the material, Dox impatiently studied lighting diagrams that he might try using on Jason this weekend.

Peeking over to Jason's notebook, he was ecstatic to see that he was studiously taking notes on everything Mr. Griffon said. Remembering their first week, Dox recalled that Jason had written almost nothing down. He was glad to see that Jason was taking the class seriously and not depending exclusively on his help to make it through.

Dox fairly jumped out of his seat when Mr. Griffon finished his lecture and released the class to work on their assignments. Looking over, the young teacher caught Dox as he led Jason out of the room. "Hey, Dox! You got a second?"

"Hold on a second," the young Laborer told Jason, before walking back to the teacher's desk. "What's up, Mr.G?"

"Nothing big," his teacher assured him. "I just have something to discuss with you after class, and I didn't wan't you to run off before I had the chance. Or if you wasn't to stop by after school today, that would be cool, too."

"Sure," Dox agreed. He has no idea what Mr. Griffon wanted, but nothing he'd done had ever been unkind to Dox, and he trusted him. But there had been an unusual look in the teachers eyes that made Dox curious.

"What did he want?" Jason asked, when Dox returned a second later. "Is the class Brainiac in trouble?"

"I don't think so," Dox answered hesitantly, "Mr G's always been really cool, so I don't think it's anything bad."

The two walked outside, Jason eager to show Dox his idea. "Okay," he teased, "here's my idea for the concrete bitch."

Dox grinned, "Show me what you got, big boy!"

Jason have him a lecherous grin that only he could have gotten away with. "I'd like to, but I don't think we have time."

Dox punched him lightly on the shoulder and was led over to the same concrete benches that Jason had used in his first successful pictures. Reaching out to gently take Dox's camera from his paw, Jason explained what he was planning. "I've been thinking about what you said last week, about looking at everyday objects in a different way. Stopping about there feet away from the bench, he pointed at the corner of it. "see how this is all right angles?" He pointed out, "If you look at it this way..." He backed up a bit and pulled a card out of his back pocket.

At first Dox thought that it was the same card he'd given to Jason on Friday, the one with a rectangular hole in it, used to help compose pictures. But then he remembered that Jason has given that card back to him. He'd made this one by himself.

Holding the card up, Jason looked at the corner of the bench through it, motioning Dox over to see. Standing behind Dox, he stretched his arm out in front of them both and put his head close to Dox's so they could both see what he was framing. From this angle, the ninety degree angles of the bench looked like three 120 degree angles, instead. "And if you move your position," Jason continued, putting his left hand on Dox's shoulder and pulling both of them to the right, "the angles appear to change."

He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was practically hugging Dox from behind, but Dox was certainly aware of it. It felt fantastic. "I see it!" He said, happily. "I can tell what you're talking about now."

"That's too bad, " Jason said, regretfully. "I was hoping I was gonna get to keep holding you like this." He gave Dox one last squeeze before releasing him to put the camera up to his eye. He snapped three pictures from slightly different angles, them held the camera out to Dox to evaluate. "What do you think?"

Dox examined the images, and said, "They're all good, and this is just my opinion, but what would you think about moving the image off-center to add a bit of visual interest, like this?" He turned on the camera's viewer and again pointed the lens toward the bench. Moving closer to Jason so he could see the image too, he shifted the camera from where the football player had it, so that the corner of the bench was a few degrees off center.

"Sweet," Jason said, "it looks a lot more interesting that way." Dox handed there camera back to him, and Jason took a few more pictures from different angles.

"I'm impressed that you saw this, Jason," Dox said. I don't think I've ever seen this bench that way." Dox was pleased to see Jason's eyes light up at his praise.

"So now that we're through with business," Jason said, "let's have some fun!" Running across the pavilion with Dox's camera in his hand, he quickly turned and dropped to one knee, shooting from the hip to catch Dox jogging straight toward him, a happy smile plastered all over his face.

"So what's up?" Dox said, finding Mr. Griffon sitting at his desk after school that day.

His teacher looked up from his work and smiled. "Hey, Dox! Come on it! Have a seat, young man." His tone was friendly, and any remaining unease that remained with Dox melted away. "So how are you finding your assignments?" he asked.

"On the surface they don't really seem all that difficult," Dox said, but then he admitted, "but once I'm getting into them, they seem to be a lot more complex."

Mr. Griffon nodded. "That's why I gave them to you. You're one of the few students here who I trust, not only to complete the assignments with technical competence, but to bring a special creative flair to them as well."

Dox blushed at the praise, staring at his feet in embarrassment. "Thank you." he said, out of habit.

"Dox," his teacher said, "do you have a few minutes to talk with me, or do you have someone waiting for you?"

Dox shrugged. "I've got nowhere to be," he said, putting his book bag down on the table and pulling a chair up to Mr. G's desk. The man had always treated him with kindness and respect, and since their ages weren't all that different, he felt as if he might have been talking to an older sibling instead of a teacher. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk with you about Jason," the teacher said, looking at Dox. He paused, and said, "I think over the past couple of years we've formed a pretty solid friendship, you and I, right?"

"Well, sure," Dox agreed. He did consider Mr. G to be a friend. He'd even been over to his house a couple of times after school hours, talking about his problems and sharing time. Mr. G was a good listener, and he'd never made Dox feel uncomfortable talking about his problems.

"Okay," the older man said, "I'm going to just lay my cards out here. When I saw Jason's name on the student roll, I was worried at first about what would happen to you. In addition to being my friend, you're my star pupil, and I didn't like the idea that someone might bring the outside world into this protected environment you've created."

"What do you mean?" Dox asked, even though he had a pretty good idea what the man was talking about.

Mr. G waved a hand towards Dox's supply drawer. "You keep the books from all your classes in here, you store your lunch here, you eat it in here, you study in here. Every moment of the day you aren't actively involved in another class, you spend in here." From another person, what he was saying might have sounded accusatory, but from him it was a simple statement of fact. Dox accepted it, nodding mutely.

"I get it, Dox," he continued, "I honestly do. You've turned this room into your sanctuary. It's where you're safe from the bullies and the creeps on the outside who make your life hell. Oh, yes," he admitted, when Dox looked up at him uncomfortably. "I know very well what goes on outside this room. And it kills me that I can't be there all the time to stop it. Allowing Jason into your protected space was not a decision I made lightly."

Now he had Dox's full attention. Although Dox had counted the teacher as a friend, he'd always managed to separate that personal part of their lives from this professional arena. Now, those lines were blending, and it made Dox uncomfortable for some reason. Perhaps it was the sudden realization that someone had been watching him, and watching out for him, without his knowledge that made him feel...odd. "Okay," Dox said, nodding at his teacher, "go on."

"That first day, I had every intention of asking Jason to sit in the spot furthest from you in the classroom to give you a little space. But when you walked in late and the only seat was next to the one person who might bully you, I didn't have much of a choice. I had every intention of moving you both on Tuesday, but something amazing happened."

Dox cocked an eyebrow in curiosity, and the teacher went on. "I saw the look on Jason's face when I read out the supplies list. I don't think you were paying attention, but... hold on for a second." Mr. Griffon got up and pulled the door shut, ensuring their privacy. He lowered his voice slightly and continued, "You probably didn't notice, but as I was reading off the prices of some of the supplies, I was inflating the costs quite a bit. I know Jason's family isn't well-off, and I was kind of hoping that he'd get discouraged by the cost and drop the class." He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I could get fired for trying to manipulate him like that. It's really not ethical, but I apparently have trouble separating right from wrong where my friends are concerned. Please don't tell anyone I told you that."

"Sure," Dox said, "I'd never do anything to get you in trouble. You know that."

"I do," Mr. Griffon agreed, "but it's best to be up front where things like this are concerned. Anyway," he went on, "I didn't call you in here to confess my sins. What I wanted to tell you was that when I saw the look on his face, I thought I was succeeding. And then you did something completely unexpected and blew my plans to Hell and back. You looked over to one of the people who have tortured you for years, and you offered to help him."

Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Griffon put his his hands behind his head casually. "I thought I had you figured out, Dox. I really did. But you're a hell of a lot stronger than I figured."

Dox shrugged, embarrassed again by the praise. "I just did what felt was right," he said meekly.

His teacher stared at him dumbly for a moment, then suddenly sat his chair back on the ground and leaned over the desk. "You're even embarrassed by it, aren't you?" he said, reading Dox. "My God," he said, "you don't have any idea how special you are. I'd kill to have a school full of people like you. Or even one single class of them." Reaching into his top desk drawer, he pulled out a copy of Dox's portfolio. "You take all this abuse at school, with parents that aren't helping you and almost no support system, and you effortlessly churn out work like this." One by one, he tossed the laminated photos out on the desktop like he was dealing cards on a Las Vegas poker table. "Portraits, action shots, sports shots from crazy angles, technical illustrations... each one better than the last, and every one of them completely publishable."

"You've got more than just skill, Dox, you've got unbelievable talent. You could take this anywhere you want. And instead of taking the one thing you truly excel at and using it as a weapon, you share it with a man who should, by all rights, be your enemy." Digging back into the drawer, he pulled out another slim file of photos. Dox instantly recognized the pictures he pulled out of it as Jason's. "This is good, too. Nowhere near what you're capable of, obviously, but it's worlds better than I expected of him. And it's all thanks to you, Dox."

"But I'm not doing his work for him," Dox protested, "It's all his."

"Oh, I know, I know," Mr. Griffon soothed, "Jason's learning from you, so of course some of your hallmarks wear off on him. But I see that it's him doing the work. If I thought you were doing it for him, we'd be having a very different conversation right now. Not to mention the fact that you haven't been in the classroom on Fridays taking his tests for him, so I know for a fact that although you might have tutored him, that was all his doing."

"But that's another thing I wanted to talk to you about," the teacher went on. "All of the pictures Jason has turned in have been of the same park bench, but he's making it fit into all the different categories. Either he really likes concrete benches, or he's making it into a series, one picture for each item on his assignment list " Looking up, he caught Dox's eye. "If that's true, it's a brilliant move, one that nobody's ever thought to do before. Not even you. Did you have anything to do with that?

"No," Dox said, smiling from ear to ear. "He IS doing a series, isn't he? Damn, I wish I'd thought of that."

"Did you know he scored a hundred on each of the three tests we've had so far?" Mr. Griffon asked.

Dox nodded. "Yeah, he told me."

"Well, what he didn't tell you, because he doesn't even know it yet, is that he's got the highest average in the class right now." Mr. Griffon said, archly.

Dox was ecstatic. "He does?"

"Yep. Do you know how many other classes Jason has been at the top of?"

Dox looked a little embarrassed for his friend. "Probably not many," he admitted, then he went straight to defending him. "But he's not stupid! He just hasn't ever really had to apply himself. That's changing, and he wants to do better."

"Oh, he's doing better, all right," Mr. Griffon agreed. "I've talked to his other teachers, and he's doing great all across the board. Are you helping him in other subjects, too?"

"A few," Dox admitted, "when he has questions."

"You know," the teacher said, confidentially, "Some of the other teachers were a little concerned that he might be bullying you to help him do his homework.

"No," Dox protested again, "that's not happening!" His tail whipped back and forth in agitation.

"I know, I know," Mr. Griffon said, holding his hands up to stem the flood of protest coming from Dox. The smile on his face told Dox that he thought it was as ludicrous as his student did. "I only have to watch as he follows you around like a puppy dog to see that he's treating you with respect. It's in every component of his body language. And," he said quietly, looking around carefully even though the door was closed, "his body language also suggests that he's totally into you."

Dox hid his face in his hands, but his voice was strong. "Oh, Jesus Christ - does everyone in the world know I'm gay?"

Mr. Griffon laughed at his discomfort, as only someone who you're comfortable with can do. "Only me, Dox, and that's just because I'm your friend."

Peeking out through his fingers, Dox admitted, "You're right, but don't tell anybody. The football team's already giving him a hard time about hanging out with me."

"I'm excited for you, Dox!" his friend said, gathering up the papers he'd been working on and shoving them into his briefcase, "And I'm excited for him, too. But you might want to tell him that if he wants to keep the two of you under wraps, he might want to touch you a little less in public."

Leading the way out the door, he locked it behind them, then continued what he was saying as he walked to the teacher's parking lot, "I think it's unconscious, like he's claiming you as his own in front of other people, but he doesn't do that sort of thing with any of the other guys, so it looks odd." Turning to Dox, he asked, "You have a ride home?"

"Not really. Would you mind?"

"Not a problem. You're here late at my request, after all." Mr. Griffon unlocked the doors, and after they'd settled in the car, he asked, "Are you going to continue helping Jason?"

"As long as he lets me," Dox said, a bit of uncertainty creeping into his voice.

"Why do you say it that way?" Mr. G asked, "like you expect him to leave you at the drop of a hat?"

"Because he's gorgeous!" Dox exclaimed, frustration boiling out of him like a swarm of angry bees. "He's popular, he's on the football team... What do I have to offer someone like that?" He slouched in his seat, despair almost overcoming him. Against his will, his ears began to droop.

His friend looked at him with a wry expression. "I think we both realize that boy could have chosen anyone in the school that he wanted. And out of all those people, he chose you. That should make you feel pretty damned special."

"I guess it does," Dox said, reluctantly.

"And you know what?" Mr. Griffon waited until he had Dox's attention. "I'm not going to lie to you. Your relationship with Jason has a very good chance of not working out. Not because you're not good enough for him, but because neither one of you really knows what you want yet. Sometimes High School romances work out, and a couple gets married and spend the rest of their lives together. Most of the time, though, they don't. If this relationship does end up going south, I don't want you to think that it was because of anything you did."

He laughed, "Jason's your first boyfriend! Do you know how rare it is to only have one romantic partner in your entire life? Have fun with this, Dox, and ride it wherever it takes you. Love him for who he is, and if the time ever comes, be a big enough man to let him go and do what he needs to do. And if you find that he's not what you're looking for, be gentle with him when you break up, because he'll be losing one hell of a guy."

"You know," Dox said thoughtfully, "It's weird, but I think what you just said, about breaking up, makes me feel better than anything else. It kinda takes the pressure off."

"That's good!" Mr. G said, as he pulled his car into Dox's driveway. "Pressure kills relationships. Don't push him to be somebody he isn't, and don't push yourself to change for him. Just be who you are, and enjoy him for who he is."

Dox got out of the car after thanking his teacher for the ride home, and as he turned away, he heard the whir of the electric window rolling down. "One more thing. Smile! Everyone looks better when they've got a smile on their face, right?" With a big grin on his own face, the burly bear rolled up the window and backed carefully out of the driveway.

Good advice, Dox thought, an unbidden smile coming across his features. And easy to do, too, when the hottest guy in school "is totally into" me!

"How was practice today?"

"Pretty good. Joey's still a prick."

"He still giving you a hard time about me?"

"No, but that doesn't stop him from being a prick! :-)"

"Why don't you flush his head in a toilet. I thought that's what Jocks did when they didn't like someone."

"What, give him a swirlie? Fun but unproductive, Im afraid. I have to work with him on the field."

"Did you two used to be friends?"

"Sort of. He's a douche. He likes to hurt people for no good reason."

"Sounds like he's got TWS - Tiny Weenie Syndrome."

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"ROFLOL!!! Next to yours, everyone's weenie looks tiny!"

"The only weenie I want next to mine is yours, stud. ;-)"

"Keep it that way! Mine's the only weenie you need. Why U ask about Joeys weenie? You want his weenie, or something?"

"Sorry, my phone's acting up. Stupid words are beginning to appear on the screen."

"LOL. You gonna dream about me tonight, Dox?"

"Just like I did last night, stud. And the night before."

"Good. Me too. I'll see you tomorrow!"

"XOX"

"Just one kiss?"

"XOOOOOX"

"Better. :-)"

Dox flipped off his phone and lay down in bed, feeling better than he had in a very, very long time.

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