Just as Jake was considering all his options, he bumped into someone and was immediately shoved aside.
"Watch where you're going, loser," it was Rick, the school's star quarterback. And like a strike of lightning Jake knew, he wanted Rick. He wanted the strength, the confidence, the sheer power that Rick seemed to radiate.
The bell rang and Jake hurried to class, a plan hatching in his mind. He and Rick had gym together, and the locker rooms would be the perfect place to find a spot to change into his ghost form while not being too far from the jock. The only downside was that it was Jake's last class of the day.
The school day seemed to move at a sluggish pace; Jake had never looked forward to gym class before in his life. He was counting down the hours and minutes to when the ringing of the bell would let him put his plan into action. And finally, it happened.
Jake made his way to the boys' locker room and scanned the crowd for Rick, but couldn't find him. Jake reluctantly changed into his gym clothes and walked out into the gym. And there he was, leaned against the bleachers and talking with his buddies, Rick. Jake took in the sight of the jock: his shirt clung tightly to his pecs and looked like it would burst into rags from trying to contain his powerful biceps. His square jaw and chiseled features were perfectly framed by his stylishly short hair, whose strawberry blonde hue made his bright blue eyes shine like sapphires. And in just forty minutes, it would all belong to Jake.
The class continued as usual, Coach Richards made them run laps, a couple sets of exercises, and finally more laps. Not once did Jake take his eyes off Rick, he wasn't going to lose him, not this time. When the final bell rang, Jake made sure to stay a couple of steps behind Rick, keeping his broad shoulders in his sights. Once in the locker rooms, Jake rushed to a restroom stall and focused his mind on bring weightless, being unsubstantial. Once he achieved that he moved briskly and spotted Rick, dressed in a tight tee shirt, jeans, sneakers, and his letterman jacket walking out to the hallway. Jake dove through air and pushed forcefully into Rick's muscular back. Unlike his morning possession, this one wasn't gentle, it felt like someone had knocked the air out of him. When Jake when to clutch his stomach in pain, he was greeted a rock hard six-pack. Catching his breath, he looked down at his hands and saw a pair of big, strong hands, connected to sinewy forearms clad in a letterman jacket. He'd done it. He was Rick!
"You okay, dude?" one of Rick's buddies came up and asked.
"Uh, yeah, totally," replied Jake, testing out his new virile, baritone voice, "dude."
"Alright man, wouldn't want you missing practice," said another jock walking up to Jake.
'Shit!,' thought Jake, 'Rick has football practice today?'