Sammy walked out with the bell blaring overhead. He was out. He was free. School was done for the summer, and this was high school, so he would be able to ratchet up the sort of trouble he had planned. Adults would no longer get mad at him; they’d threaten charges. Did you need at least one charge to be a man? You certainly needed at least one date.

Why am I hearing Mr. Sorkinson’s voice? He’s narrating my life! God, has my imagination always been this out of control? Sorkinson’s a drama teacher, of course he made everything sound like there was something at stake.

Something huge was at stake, namely the huge thing in Sammy’s pants.

Oh god, stop thinking like that. It’s a good thing no one can hear my thoughts. What is up with me today? Is it because Sorkinson’s monologue was the last thing I heard? He’s not even good at acting; that’s why he’s a drama teacher. That dumb skull they hold up in Hamlet is better than he is.

Sammy spotted her. She was gorgeous, her beauty devastating. It could launch and then sink a thousand ships… in flames! She was Amber Burmont and she was a goddess. A perfect first date for a young man, virility straining his suspenders, ready to flex his burgeoning manhood.

Noooooooooo. Nooooope. I’m officially dumping his voice out of my head. Scrubbing it clean. Wait. What am I doing? I’m walking towards her. Stop. Why is this happening? We’re not doing this Mr. Sorkinson. Damn it. Why am I so impressionable? I don’t even wear suspenders!

His heart thudded as hew drew closer. She was looking, there was no stopping now. Green eyes like budding blooms, a smile as wide as any river after a downpour. Brown hair like that woman from the magazine he kept under his bed. Sammy tapped her shoulder, careful to touch her backpack strap and not her clothes. If he so much as grazed her directly he would melt in passion.

“Oh hey Sam.”

Aaaaaaaaaahhhh. That’s right. Nobody even calls us Sammy. You weren’t even talking about me Mr. Sorkinson. I shouldn’t have done what you said. Crap. I need to say something. How do I know it will be me? I need to get rid of you somehow you overly dramatic…

Sammy prepared to spill his true feelings. They built inside him like a damn trying to hold back the biblical deluge. Any moment now he would burst. He would say. He would admit his love for her laugh, her wrists, and the way she always missed the volleyball even when it was the easiest shot in all of gym class. The others would snicker, but not Sammy, because he was such a great person that he found it endearing. She stared up at that slow volleyball like it was the sun, and he had ample chance to look at her…

“Sammy?”

“Hi Amber.”

“What’s up?”

Crap. I need a new voice. I need a new influence or role model or something. Just not Mr. Sorkinson. I think he’s been divorced three times. Somebody said something about him practicing his flirting on a houseplant in his office. It’s bad advice, but I need somebody! I’m not old enough to do this on my own.

Suddenl Sammy spotted something sticking out of Amber’s bag. A corner of a page. A love letter to him perhaps? A frisky doodle of their inevitable lovemaking? No, how unfortunate. It was just her biology essay. Nothing could kill Sammy’s raging desires like a lecture from the eldery and haggard Mrs. Tennlin.

That’s it! Mrs. Tennin! She’s perfect. A little clinical, but I could use some rationality. Save me biology teacher. I’m thinking of you. Be my new influence. Save me from my myself. Save me from Mr. Sorkinson and the potted plant he holds prisoner to his lust!

The young male Sammy was fresh out of school and ready for the opportunities of the fruitful summer season. Females were plentiful in this field outside the study burrow, and he had bumbled his way into an encounter with one.

Okay that’s good. Acurate but not judgmental. I’m just an animal doing animal things. You keep going Mrs. Tennlin. You should’ve narrated nature documentaries. I would’ve loved watching sand pipers dig arthropods out of tidal sand to your voice!

“I just wanted to say… summer is a lot of time. We’re just… two people under its sun. Do you want to maybe be two people… together… at the same time? In the same place? For summer?”

The female Amber did not seem impressed. She hemmed and hawed back and forth on her feet, judging the male’s display. She would only take the best influence into her life. Picking a mate is the most crucial decision for the future of her species after all. Nearby, a jock hooted at his prey, a six pack of light beer that had retracted into its shell. The Sammy had no time for the distractions of food and drink.

“What would we do as two people together?”

“Oh you know, people things. Hanging out. Eating and relaxing. Getting closer. Being two people who… are more together?”

Okay maybe too clinical. Just don’t call her a female. Don’t think of her that way. Tennlin’s a good influence, but you don’t want to be her. I don’t want to be in kids’ heads when I’m her age, talking about seasons and displays. I’m cool and collected. Thanks Tennlin, but I got it from here. This is my voice.

“What you just said was pretty weird, but I think I get the idea. Yeah, let’s hang out, just be a little less dramatic next time okay? We’ll just be two people.”

“Sounds great Amber. Okay. I’ll see you. Bye.”

Alright. Now the influences can run wild again for a while. At least until I see her again. I want her to tell me. Maybe she will tell me if we get close, close as males and females tend to be, what influences are talking to her. She did do really well on that biology essay.

 Author’s Note:  This flash fiction story was written based on a prompt provided by Flash3894 during a livestream.  I hereby transfer all story rights to them, with the caveat that it remain posted on this blog.  If you would like your own story, stop bytwitch.tv/blainearcade during one of my streams and I’ll write it for you live!