Текст книги "Triangle: The Complete Series"

Автор книги: Susann Julieva

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I’m in the prime of my life, right?

“Yeah,” I hear myself saying. “Fine. Why?”

He looks at me like I’m lying to him. Looks me over a few times. “Come on, Nick. Pull yourself

together. You can get a good part in this production if you try. If you keep your act clean. If you can

keep yourself clean. Drop that crap you’re doing, whatever it is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking-”

“Don’t even try it, Nick. I’ve seen a dozen students like you. The ones that clean themselves up go

on to be amazing. The ones that don’t… they fall off the radar. One way or another.” He’s got this

intense look going, and I can’t think of anything to say. So I just nod.

He looks at me a little more, and I just blink at him. He finally shakes his head and sighs.

“Go. Try to remember what I said. You could be one of the amazing ones, Nick.”

And what the hell do you say to something like that? I start to walk out, but he calls after me.

“Auditions for the show are in a week, Nick. Don’t disappoint me.”

I nod. Don’t disappoint him. Right.

Chapter 7

Body Language

DANNY: Brains can be sexy. Trust me on this. Had nothing better to do, so I went to the large

auditorium to check out random English celebrity prof’s lecture, because I knew James would be there.

The room’s crammed-full, but I have no difficulty spotting J. Sometimes I go Every Breath You Takeing,

I just love to watch him when he isn’t aware of it. I’m fascinated with his body language. More

often than not it’s the only clue to what he’s feeling inside. He’s a hard one to read, but I love the

challenge.

Tea Time ends his lecture with a smug, superior smile. When he asks if there are any questions, you

just know he doesn’t actually expect any of us grunts to have understood a single word of his complex

jargon. That’s when J slowly raises his hand, and the entire room turns to look at him, whispering.

I can literally feel him tensing underneath his cool facade, but he sounds matter-of-fact when he

speaks. He’s sitting there in his shabby gray jacket that can only pass as vintage if you look at it with

eyes of love, the epitome of geekiness. But something incredible happens when his calm voice fills the

room. Suddenly he has a sharp, intellectual authority to him that makes everyone fall silent. And screw

me like it’s Friday night, he just about rips Tea Time’s theory apart by showing a significant flaw with

one brilliant little question.

The Brit’s not amused, and quickly dismisses the crowd before dashing away to probably never be

seen on this campus again. And I’m turned on.

“Congrats, Pulitzer.” I grin at J as I waylay him on his way out.

“On what?” he frowns, then he does a slightly amused double take. “Hold on. What are you doing

here?”

Three guesses, Jimmy Boy. I don’t really give a shit about Cross-cultural philosophy and

comparative politics. “Just heard that you’re the new editor in chief.” Of the school paper, that is.

“Thought I’d stop by.”

J stops short. “Who the hell told you? No one’s supposed to know that yet!”

I grin. “Sorry. Can’t reveal my sources.”

He gives me a look, but smiles, and we stroll down the hallway towards the building’s exit side by

side. It’s really noisy in here. Everyone’s discussing the lecture, and people are looking at James, not at

me for a change as they walk past. And somehow that feels good.

“Let’s go somewhere,” I suggest.

“No way.”

“To talk”, I clarify and roll my eyes. Our eyes meet briefly and once again I wonder what’s going on

behind his gray eyes.

Still he hesitates, but then he sighs. “Alright.”

It’s one of those rare, bright fall days where you just have to love the season, and there’s some kind

of lazy, laid back feeling all over campus. On a whim I stop next to the only empty park bench on our

way to the cafe. It’s too beautiful to be inside, and I don’t feel like sharing him right now. James shrugs

when I nod towards the seat.

He looks pensive when we sit down, and then he smiles a little. “We sat here before.”

“Have we?”

“Last semester. You told me I was pathetic to wait for Casey.”

I laugh. I vaguely remember. I think it was one of the first times we spoke alone. “Did not.”

“Did too. And you were right. I never should have hesitated that long. But I was scared.”

“You were scared?” I smile to myself. The first time I saw him, I thought, what an arrogant ass.

There’s something incredibly aloof about the way he holds himself, and something almost cryptic. The

way he hunches slightly just doesn’t go with the hostile air of distance about him. Real aggression is

extroverted, not introverted. You can’t study acting, that’s what Jeff says. You can study people. And

I’ve been doing that my whole life. When I first met James, I felt that something was wrong with this

picture. It sparked my interest. That, and the fact that in spite of his bad taste in clothes, J’s damn hot,

with those incredible lips and a small perfect ass that just makes my head spin. And the way he kept

pushing me back just added to the fun of the chase. But damn, now it’s me who’s caught in the trap.

James looks at me with intense eyes. “You think that’s funny?”

“You do know that you’re the one who scares people ‘round here, don’t you?”

He arches an eyebrow, and I swear he has no clue how sexy that is. “I scare people?”

“You’re terrifying, Jimmy Boy. That Brit’s flawless career is ruined because of you.”

“I’m sure he’ll recover.” His voice just drips with wonderful dry sarcasm.

I nonchalantly put my arm on the back of the bench behind him when I turn towards him. “People

respect you, don’t you know? There’s no need to make yourself small.”

He gazes at me with his usual frown, and I realize that he really isn’t aware of the fact. Sometimes I

wonder what it’s like to live in James Land. How can you not notice something like that? Is that

Simon’s doing?

J decides it’s time to change the subject. “Rumor has it that you’re to play Hamlet in that huge

production they’re planning.”

I grin. “I’m not supposed to talk to the press.”

James smiles briefly, unimpressed. “So are you?”

“Jeff wants me to.”

He leans back a little and looks at me like I’m tripping. “Hell, this is one of the most prestigious

roles in theatre history and you’re having second thoughts?”

I shrug. Can we go back to talking about him? “Not sure if I see myself playing a wimpy prince who

can’t get his act together.”

For the first time today, James laughs, and his eyes soften a bit. “What would you have Hamlet do?”

“I dunno. Probably screw Claudius and afterwards tell the queen what a faithful new husband she

has.”

“Clever. I suppose she’d then heroically commit suicide. Which would lead to Claudius being killed

by an angry mob.”

“And Hamlet and Horatio can finally get it on.”

J laughs. “Well, you never know. Shakespeare might have liked that!”

We grin at each other, and I wonder why it always takes me so long to get through to him.

“Seriously though, there are so many ways to play Hamlet, Danny. He can be played passionate too.

You can bring the same intensity to the role you had last year as Lord Goring. The audience loved you.”

“Did you?”

James shrugs with a small grin. “I’m hardly objective. I get a hard-on when I see you on stage. But

yes, I did.”

Okay, new rule: You don’t mention hard-ons when you’re sitting this close to me, Jimmy. You turn

me on enough just being here. And if you were anyone else, there’d be no prisoners. But you’re you,

and I can’t do that. You got me by the balls, squeezing real hard. One way or another, I’m gonna

explode soon enough. And that moment’s getting closer as we speak.

“They’re going for a combination of traditional and modern with the costumes. Tina showed me an

early sketch. All black and lots of leather.”

J blinks and swallows. “That’s it, you’re doing this!”

I laugh. Yeah, suffer like me. I’m sick of substitutes. You’re the real thing, you’re what I really want,

and you know it.

“You’re gonna kill them.” James says quietly, and I know he believes it. And that means a lot. Right

now, it means everything.

“As long as I’m killing you, Jimmy Boy.”

When he looks back at me, I know that he wants to have me right now. It’s clear to him, it’s clear to

me, and this is so messed up I can’t even say.

Keller has become my favorite stand-in to work off the frustration. He’s perfect. He’ll do anything.

And still, it’s never enough. It’s delicious, and still it doesn’t come close.

I look at J, and I don’t mind him knowing what he’s doing to me. I want him to know. I want him to

read me like I’ve learned to read him.

“I gotta go,” he mumbles, and shifts uncomfortably. He looks sad all of a sudden.

“There’s got to be a better way to do this,” I say quietly.

“What are you proposing?”

I shrug. “No more sneaking around. You, me, coffee, how does that sound?”

His eyes find mine, and he looks mildly terrified. “That sounds scarily like a date.”

I grin. “Does it now?”

“Are you being serious?”

“No”, I lie with a smile. “But I can tell you I’m not loving being treated like your dirty little secret.

Mostly since it’s not actually that dirty.”

“Danny…”

“Yes?” I lean closer and he gives me a half-hearted frown.

“Damn it.” He sighs helplessly. He thinks about it for a long moment. Then he nods like he’s just

made a really big decision. “I suppose if it weren’t an actual date…”

I grin. Gotcha.

* * *

Two days later we’re sitting outside Cafe Plato, having said coffee. And it’s weird at first, but after a

while, I can see that he’s starting to relax and enjoy himself. He tells me about an art project he’s

writing about for the school paper, and somehow the conversation turns to the Louvre. I tell him that the

Mona Lisa’s tiny and overrated, and that it’s too crowded to have a proper look at her anyway. But

James has such a yearning in his eyes, and I can tell just how badly he wants to see for himself.

“I prefer the Musee d’Orsay anyway,” I say, almost apologetically. Here we are, having an actual

conversation. Hell will freeze over any minute now.

“They have some Van Goghs and Gaugins there, don’t they?” When I nod, he thoughtfully looks

into the distance. “I like the Impressionists too.”

“You’re gonna go there some day. You’ll get that scholarship, and then you can see it all for

yourself.” I can’t believe myself, saying shit like that, and meaning it.

He looks up and frowns slightly. “I hope so.”

“Well, if all else fails, I can take you.”

“You wanna be my sugar daddy?” James grins.

“Oh hell yeah.” We laugh.

“Have you been to Italy? Spain?”

“Yeah.”

“Son of a bitch. You’ve been everywhere!”

Pretty much. Everywhere you want to go, and probably to quite a few places you seriously don’t.

“You have to tell me. You have to tell me everything.” His eyes are shining with excitement. And

right now, I honestly want him to get that damned Berlin scholarship, regardless of what how much that

would suck for me. What’s up with that?

“How much time have you got?” I ask with a grin.

“Well, I’ll make the time.”

Son of a bitch, I think my heart just skipped a beat. Nobody has ever done that to me. I look at him,

and I just ache. How is he doing this to me? Things are getting so intense; I’ve never felt this way. I’ve

never felt like this about anyone. Just sitting here, talking, listening to his voice, looking at him. I’m not

even thinking of sex, and it’s about the best thing ever. Hell if I know how that’s possible. My head is

spinning, and suddenly I have absolutely no idea what to say or do. Oh crap.

He tilts his head to the side and looks at me, a little smile dancing on his lips.

“What?” I clear my throat.

“Nothing. You just…” His smile deepens, and he seems embarrassed. “You just had the most

beautiful look on your face.” He frowns at his own words.

“Hold on. That was a compliment.” My heart is beating like crazy.

“Nope. Just stating a fact.”

I chuckle softly. “Well, don’t. Facts are not welcome here. Just flattery.”

“You’ll never get that from me, Mister.”

“In that case, we’re through.”

He laughs, and takes a sip of his cappuccino, eyeing me over the brim of the cup. His eyes are

sparkling, and I swear he’s never looked so pretty, it’s ridiculous. I’m finding it way too hard to breathe

for my liking.

“Are you sure this is not a date?” he asks jokingly.

I wink at him. “Are you?”

* * *

It’s a couple of days later, and I light a smoke when I leave one of Jeff’s totally important meetings.

Keller tries to catch my eye as he pushes past me, and I give him a little grin. Later.

“Hey, Rizzo. You got a minute?” someone calls to me on my other side, and I see Mills coming

towards me. Great. Just what I needed on my so far completely boring and James-less day.

“For you, Mills, I got two.”

I let him lead me a bit down the corridor to the side. Bright, colorful posters advertising the big

Halloween bash in two weeks are all around, looking cheap on the massive stone walls of the old

building.

We stop near a window and I hop up on the broad sill. Casey seems to briefly contemplate doing the

same, but decides against it. He’s not happy about having to look up at me, and dude, that’s the point.

It’s raining outside, and the drops are rapping against the glass; the light is dim and pale. With its arched

ceilings and renaissance look, this place always reminds me of a monastery in Italy I visited once, but

Woodhaven isn’t nearly as old. It’s a beautiful fake, and ain’t most things? It’s very quiet now that

everyone else has left, and Mills’ eyes are resting on me.

“Big production this year. I hear you’re gonna be in that play.”

I blow smoke into his direction. “You after an autograph?”

“Thanks, I’ll pass. I need to talk to you.”

We’re thirty seconds into this conversation and I’m bored out of my head already. I suppress a sigh.

“Fine. About what?”

“I think you’ll be able to guess.”

“Aww. Sorry, Mills, I already got a date for Halloween.”

“Oh, shut up. I’d like to talk to you about James.”

And here he does something I did not expect, because he hops up beside me after all. The window

glass is cool against my back, and I look at Mills with interest. He does have some backbone, even if it

only shows every couple of light-years.

“Let’s hear it then.”

His gaze quickly drops to the tips of his shoes, then his eyes focus on the opposite wall. He’s got a

determined expression on his face. “I want you to back off.”

I almost laugh out loud, but bite my tongue. I’m having such a deja-vu. “Back off yourself”, I

suggest with a grin.

I earn a dark glance. “Why should I? He’s in love with me.”

“Has he ever actually told you that he is?”

His eyes narrow at my comment, and I know I hit the mark. “So what? Has he told you? What makes

you think you got a right to try and come between us?”

I smile. “I wouldn’t be able to, if things were so perfect, would I?”

Casey takes a deep breath and sighs. It irritates me, getting all kinds of weird, contrary signals from

him. Does he want to kick my ass, or sob in my lap? We sit in silence for a moment. When he speaks

again, he sounds gloomy.

“Why does everything have to be so complicated? I hate this entire situation.”

“I’m not loving it either,” I admit, and that seems to surprise him.

He looks at me, then he reaches over and simply takes the cigarette from my hand to take a drag. I

watch as the smoke curls in front of his mouth and vanishes in the air. He hands the butt back to me, and

now it’s him who’s watching as I exhale. I stare into his eyes, and unconsciously he licks his lips. Pretty.

“It was a mistake, that night, wasn’t it?” he asks quietly.

“Which one? The night we made out, or the night on the beach?”

“Both.”

I tilt my head a little, amused. “You don’t regret it, Mills. Cut the shit.”

“I don’t. That’s why it was a mistake.”

I knew it. So. Not. Over. Me. A content grin steals onto my face. How brilliant is that? And how

useful? I realize that this just might be it. The opportunity I’ve been waiting for for months.

He clears his throat, then he jumps down from the window sill. “I gotta go. It’s no use trying to talk

to you anyway.”

I follow quickly, and corner him, moving in close. I’m taller than him, which always works to my

advantage. He looks up at me, and the anger is all too obvious now. Anger and confusion. He never

knew what he wanted, that’s his problem.

“What? Why can’t you just leave us alone, Rizzo?”

“It’s you who came to me. So what do you really want, Mills?”

He pulls himself up to his full height and manages to hold my eyes, something tortured and hurt

flickering in them. “Who’d want to be with you, when you’re such a player?”

Ouch. Now that’s fifty points to Hufflepuff. Great. I realize that it’s not about sex with him at all.

He’s not like that. And I’ve always been crap at handling these things. Everyone knows what they’re

getting into with me. I don’t make false promises. Even Keller, who’d get addicted to chewing gum if it

paid any attention to him, knows the deal, and doesn’t expect me to get all warm and mushy with him.

Don’t mess with me if you can’t take the heat. And you can’t take it, Mills, you know you can’t.

I step back to let him go, but he stays where he is, and as he looks at me, his expression softens.

“Why do you have to be like this, Danny?”

I smile vaguely. “It’s gotta be the genes.”

When he moves forward, I’m relieved that he wants to leave, but to my complete surprise, he doesn’t

step past me, but closer to me. And before I have time to react, he softly presses his lips against mine.

Shit.

He pulls me towards him with gentle hands, and I’m really not sure why I let him. Something about

his tenderness seems to render me unable to push him back, even though it’s what I want to do. What

the hell?

And then there’s something in his kiss that makes me realize for the first time what James sees in the

boy. Because I suddenly get that Casey’s on a mission to save my soul. Does he believe that he can

make me a better person? That’s just so wrong, and sweet, and completely like him that I can’t help

feeling some sympathy.

I don’t actively return the kiss, but all the same my lips part slightly and I let it happen. I look at him,

with his eyes closed, so careful and emotional. I’d taint you, boy. I’d break you.

Casey steps back, and chews on his lower lip for a moment, a thousand questions in his eyes. You

know you’re at my mercy now, Mills. You knew before you kissed me.

I could turn on the spot to find James and tell him what you just did. This would also be a fitting

moment to let you know that I slept with your boyfriend during summer break.

But I don’t.

“I’m not sure why I did that,” Casey says quietly, more confused now than before.

I should use this to my advantage. He’s practically asking for it, right? This is the best shot I’ve had

so far at driving them apart for once and for all. He wouldn’t even try to deny it if I told James. J would

never forgive him. But there’s something in Casey’s eyes… it gets to me. And the thought of how much

hearing about this would hurt James doesn’t help either. Hell, not at all.

Goddamn. Here I am, making a decision that I know I’ll regret. It’s gonna hurt, Mills, but it’s for the

best. For all of us. I look at him, and take a drag on my smoke.

“I don’t give a shit about you, Mills. Never have, never will. You get that?”

He inhales sharply, staring at me. I don’t know what he expected me to say or do, but this was

definitely not it. He looks small, and lost, and so very wounded, and I almost can’t bear the sight of it.

For crying out loud, I hope those aren’t actual tears clouding his eyes. Come on.

“Yes”, he finally says quietly, beaten. “I get it.”

I don’t stay to watch the whole tragedy of his sad existence unfold, but turn around and leave him

standing there. No way I’m letting him know that he got through to me.

It’s got nothing to do with Mills. This is all about J. As I walk down the corridor towards the exit of

the building, I realize that I don’t want James to break up with Mills because of some shitty ass kiss. I

want him to break up with Mills because he wants to be with me. I don’t even do relationships. Period.

Or so I thought up until now. But none of that seems to matter anymore. I just want to let myself feel the

way I feel about him, no more holding back. I want to be with that strange, wonderful geek all the time,

and be confused, and amazed. I want to get the sweaty hands and the stupid racing heartbeat, and feel

like an idiot, but a happy idiot to be sure. I want to be with James. I have to be with James. Because I’m

crazy about him. Because I am in love.

I gotta find Keller. And this’d better be one hell of a fuck to get this shit out of my system and help

me think clearly again.

Chapter 8

Touched

NICK: I know I wasn’t imagining things – I saw him smile at me earlier when were walking out of

Jeff’s meeting. And that smile can only mean one thing. Which is why I’m sitting on the steps outside

the dorm, smoking a cigarette, studying my callback audition piece, and freezing because the steps are

concrete and it just stopped raining, so they’re damp and really cold. I don’t care if the air has warmed

up a little, the steps sure as hell haven’t.

But I’ve been sitting here for close to twenty minutes now, and no sign of Rizzo. Has he decided that

he’s done with me? Screw that! And besides, if he has, what was that little grin about earlier?

What if he wasn’t actually looking at me? I pull my knees up and hunch my shoulders, taking

another drag on my smoke. Am I wasting my time here? He could be screwing someone else right now,

and I’m sitting here like an idiot, waiting for him and freezing my balls off.

Fine. I’m not waiting for him. I’m just sitting here and studying my audition piece and not waiting

for anyone. I’m doing it outside on the steps because I want to, dammit. And I’m working on this now

because Jeff hasn’t decided who he wants in what parts yet. Except for Hamlet. They’re not even

holding callbacks for Hamlet. Rizzo’s got it. Obviously. Wherever he is right now.

Where the hell is he?

It doesn’t matter. Focus, Nick. Horatio. It’s the part I want. I can do it, too. I know I can. I just need

to convince Jeff. It shouldn’t be a problem. I already have this bit memorized, I just need to practice it

some more to get it absolutely perfect.

I smooth the paper out again. I have an actual copy of Hamlet somewhere, but Jeff was handing

these copies out at the meeting today, and I figured what the hell. Couldn’t hurt to take one, right?

One hand holding my smoke, the other flat against the paper, and I realize they’re both shaking. Well

forget this, if Rizzo’s not coming, I’m going to go and make good use of my time.

Maybe I’ll find someone else to sleep with. I’ve done it before. Plenty of times. All the time before

Rizzo came along.

I take my last drag and drop the butt on the ground, but before I can grind it out with my toe,

someone else is stepping on it, their shadow blocking the tiny bit of sun breaking through the clouds,

and making me shiver. I tip my head back, and hey, look who finally decided to show up.

“About time, you asshole.” I’m practically growling at him, but I can’t bring myself to care if he

knows that I’ve been waiting this whole time. For his part, he just raises one of his perfect eyebrows at

me.

“You want to come upstairs, Keller?” I squint up at him and frown. Is he asking me?

That’s… different. I don’t think he’s ever really asked before.

I stare up at him, but he doesn’t say anything else. After a few seconds I nod and stand.

“Yeah, alright then.”

* * *

He gets his door open and pulls me through, but before I can even turn, he’s reached past me to push it

closed again, stepping in until I’m forced to move back. Two unsteady steps and I’m trapped with the

door against my back and Rizzo all along my front. Before I lose track of everything else, I reach my

hand back to relock his door from the inside. He grins at me and presses close, his eyes going darker

when I grin back at him.

He ducks his head and leans in quickly, and the lips against my neck are hungry and hot, the hands

pressing my hips into the wood of the door stronger than I remember, and my head drops back against

the door harder than I’d intended. I wince, wondering if I’ll have a bump there, but then I feel teeth

scraping along my skin and I couldn’t care less about a stupid bump on my head.

But then, before we really get anywhere, he pulls away. I open my eyes, my fist clinging to the front

of his shirt, ready to complain, but I can’t get the words to come out.

Because he’s looking at me now. Really looking at me. Right there, almost too close for me to focus

on him, but I can see him smile a little. Not that usual grin that I know means the bastard’s laughing at

me – this is new.

But before I can translate this new smile, his lips are back on my neck, and hell, the way they feel

against my skin… it’s different. And if he had always touched me like this, I would’ve been completely

gone a long time ago.

Because I realize that I finally have his attention. All of it. And that is almost better than anything

else he’s ever done.

I’m already so lost in the feel of him that it takes me a second to realize that he’s talking to me,

mouthing the words against the side of my neck.

“We’re not doing this against my door.”

He’s stepping back, and the words still haven’t quite made it to my brain, because all I can do is

whimper and wonder where he’s going and why he’s not touching me any more. He helps me out by

hooking his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and yanking me away from the door before practically

dragging me halfway across the room. I finally realize what he’s said and follow him willingly over to

the bed, where he’s already sitting and waiting for me. He catches me by the hips when I get close,

pulling me in and sliding his hands slowly up under my shirt. I try to be helpful and pull the shirt off,

but then I just stare down at the way his lips are moving against the skin of my stomach. I blink a few

times, trying to process what I’m seeing, what Rizzo’s doing. He hasn’t done anything for himself, not

yet at least, and usually I’m on my knees by now. His whole attitude confuses me just enough that it

takes a while before the thoughts sort themselves into words in my brain.

“Rizzo… what-” My voice cracks when he tugs the black denim down far enough to bite at the

tattoo low on my hip, the fingers of his other hand pressing hard into my skin to steady me. I swallow

hard – a few times – and try again.

“Riz – what’re you doing?”

He smirks up at me. “Shut up, Nick.”

Shut up. I nod. Shutting up sounds like a very good idea.

* * *

I’m still catching my breath, waiting for my legs to be strong enough to walk on, because while I’d love

to lay here all day, it’s usually not too long before he’s kicking me out the door. There’s a reflection of

something moving across Rizzo’s wall, and it sort of distracts me as I try not to look over at him. I’m

not sure what he’s doing – just laying there or something. I don’t think he’s asleep, but I’ll be damned if

I’m going to look over to find out.

I can’t help wondering when this silence is going to break with the inevitable command for me to

leave (and it’s always a command, never doubt that), but after a few minutes he sits up and leans back

against the headboard. I hear his lighter flare, and then the smoke drifts in front of the reflection I’m

watching. It’s actually really pretty, and I almost forget about who’s laying next to me as I watch it.

“Callbacks later this week.”

I blink in surprise at the words and look up at him. He takes a drag and raises his eyebrows. This

feels like… is this the beginning of a conversation? What the hell?

“Yeah…” I’m real articulate, but how am I supposed to respond to this?

“Ready for them?”

I blink again. This isn’t normal. Not for Rizzo. Maybe this isn’t Rizzo. It looks like him. Feels like

him when I touch his skin. But Rizzo’s never voluntarily started a conversation between us. Especially

after we’ve just fucked.

“Working on it, yeah. Fine tuning and stuff like that.”

He nods and the side of his mouth quirks up into a more familiar, arrogant little smile. “Well who

better to fine tune with than Hamlet himself?”

* * *

I wake up with my face pressed against skin and it takes me nearly a full minute to backtrack and

realize where I am. And whose skin this is. What’s even more confusing is that I’m the first one awake.

The few other times (very few) that I’ve actually stayed the night with Rizzo, he’s been the first one to

wake up.

This morning, though, Rizzo’s still asleep, which means I can lay here for a while and wake up

properly and get a chance to really look at him. And I realize something I should’ve known before.

Rizzo seems like a completely different person when he’s asleep. He doesn’t have that annoying smirk

he sometimes gets. He doesn’t have that grin that makes half this goddamn school weak at the knees.

Including me, I admit it. And he doesn’t have that hard edge to him that I sometime see. He doesn’t

have any of that shit.

I can see my hand trembling where it’s resting on his chest. And it’s been a hell of a long time since I

had that smoke on the stairs out front, and even longer since I had anything else.

And I need something after last night, and whatever the hell was going on. I know it’s probably

some new twisted game Rizzo’s playing, but shit, it’s working. I’m worse off now than before.

I don’t know if it’s the way I’m shaking now, or something else, but I can tell that Rizzo’s starting to

wake up. I don’t want to see him change back into who he is when he’s awake. I can’t deal with it right

now.

Because if it’s not a game…

Hell, if it’s not a game, then he really was paying attention to me, and I am in way over my head. I

slip out of the bed, grab my clothes, and I’m out the door before he even opens his eyes.

* * *

I can just make out Jeff’s face in the front row, watching all of us up on the stage.

We’re all good actors. Every one of us up here is. We’re so good, in fact, that not one of us looks

nervous, but you can feel it in the air. We all know what this role means, the sorts of people that’ll be at