What My Girlfriend Doesn't Know (Boyxboy)

Chapter 36

Chapter. 36

T R E V O R

"Dude," Owen nudged my arm, his gaze fixated on a group of girls sitting near the pool. "Look at those girls."

I blinked, just nodding my head. Three girls, clearly around our age, were just sitting around in very revealing swuimsuits. Two were brunette, the other blonde, and they all had really nice, long hair.

You bet your ass I was staring at them. I may love dick but I will always appreciate a good looking woman. Or three.

The only problem I had at the moment was the fact that the blonde girl had some gnarly roots. I mean, sometimes roots can look okay - maybe even good with a certain hair colour, but this girl...she really needed to make a hair appointment soon because I-

"Trevor!" Owen nudged me again, startling the shit out of me. "Dude, did you even hear what I said?"

"Huh?" I asked, my eyes widening as I turned to him. "No, what did you say?"

Owen rolled his eyes. "Let's go holla."

Let's go holla, he says. You see, Owen is your typical fuckboy. Actually, in all honesty most guys on our football team are fuckboys. Not even being stereotypical. It's true. I'm as gay as I can be and I am still a fuckboy according to basically every female that attends my school. But Owen? He is one of the worst kind. The kind that say 'hey babe wut da mouth do' to a girl. The kind that will slide into your DMS, like 'hey :p can you fill out a survey for me?'

It's not an actual survey. It's one of his many lame attempts at asking for a girl's number. Me, on the other hand. I have no problem actually going up to a girl, throwing in some decent conversation, and then asking for her number. And of course, being the handsome dude I am works wonders. How do you think I always got the ladies?

I rolled my eyes at myself. Chill, Trevor. U gay.

"You can go," I smirked, patting his shoulder. "I want to see if you can score all three numbers."

"Dawg," Owen muttered. "No. I can't. I just want the blonde."

"Her roots are horrible," I narrowed my eyes, and then suddenly realized that Owen probably doesn't even know what roots are. I shook my head when I caught his confused gaze.

"Nevermind," I said. "You don't know what roots are?"

"Does it look like I know what roots are? Is it like her puss-"

I grimaced. "Dude, what? Just go." I waved him off. "Actually," I quickly got up to my feet. "Come with me, and I will show you how it's done."

"What, roots..?"

I took a deep breath, ignoring his stupidity and continued walking to where the girls were sitting near the pool. I heard Owen following closely but hesitantly behind me, probably not even knowing what was happening.

The girls were already looking at me by the time I approached them. I was in nothing but my swim trunks, having just went swimming about an hour ago. I could feel their eyes basically scraping down my body, and suddenly I felt extremely awkward.

"Hey," I said, huskily. "You three look like the type to like obnoxious football players. Am I right?"

Blondie slowly took off her sunglasses, and looked up at me confusingly. "Are you referring to yourself?"

"Well," I smirked. "Obviously not. I mean, I am pretty obnoxious. And I'm a football player. Captain, actually. But no, I wasn't talking about myself." I slung my arm around Owen's shoulders. "This, is my friend, Owen. You're probably wondering why I am doing the work for him at the moment, but Owen is extremely shy when it comes to beautiful women such as yourself. He told me he thinks you are the most perfect girl he has ever seen. Right, Owen?"