"She's fucking hot, man," came Tim's response, opening his own locker to grab his gym clothes as well. Wes was in the middle of opening his mouth to respond when he heard a noise behind him. He turned curiously to see who else was with them. His eyes caught on Sascha St. Peter, the most feminine looking male teenager he ever laid eyes on (which said a lot about the places Wes frequented, considering he lived in NYC). He knew Sascha wasn't looking at them for a reason. He wanted to be avoided-- looked over. But that wasn't going to happen, unfortunately.
With Wes' attention now on the other side of the locker room, everyone else's gazes turned toward the same direction. Sorry, Wes thought, slamming his locker shut as loud as he could. "Well, looky what we have here," Tim said, folding his arms across his chest in what he probably deemed an intimidating manner. "If it isn't Sassy St. Peter. Were you waiting for us to come in so you could watch us all change?" His voice was condescending, as if talking to a child. Wes laughed and took a step towards Sascha.
"Do you like what you see, fag?" Wes held out his arms, giving the boy a full view of his chest, before pulling his shirt over his head.