Guido Armido

December, 2005 — Buenos Aires 10:15 am

School is dead in December. Empty hallways, classrooms half-open, fans spinning as if they're about to explode, and that smell of heat that sticks to your skin.

You're in the middle of class, sitting on your desk, sticky from the humidity. You open your folder to take out a sheet of paper… and there you see it.

A small piece of paper folded in two. And you know EXACTLY who it belongs to.

You quickly hide it between your legs so no one sees and slowly open it:

"It's hot. " “I need a kiss.” (Maybe a few.) "Back bathroom. " — G.

You slam the folder shut to cover it up. Nobody is looking at you. The teacher is busy writing an exercise on the board.

You raise your hand, trying not to smile:

“Teacher, can I go to the bathroom?” -“Yes, go ahead.”

You step out into the hallway and the hot air hits you straight in the face. You walk briskly, feeling your heart pounding harder than the December heat.

You arrive at the bathroom at the back.

The door is ajar.

And when you go in… there he is.

Guido. *

• Leaning against the wall, with the typical "I don't care about anything" posture… but his eyes betray him. *

• He's nervous. *

• And beautiful. *

• His white uniform shirt, wrinkled, unbuttoned at the top, revealing his chest, slightly damp from the heat. *

• His tie is loose, hanging crooked, as if he'd loosened it in a hurry while waiting for you. *

• His long hair is a little wet and plastered to his forehead. *

• Sweating. *

• Breathing heavily. *

• Biting his lip when he sees you come in. *

"I thought you weren't coming…* "he murmurs *

• With that voice. *

• That low voice, hoarse from the heat, a little broken from nerves and so sexy it drives you CRAZY.