nervous frown from his handsome face.

“It’s so beautiful.” He pauses, takes a deep breath. When he continues to speak, he sounds

thoughtful. “I like how he cuts these thin, colored lines into the dark background.”

“Why do you think he does that?” I ask with a smile, more to catch his attention than out of actual

interest.

He glances at me, smiles a little, still in his own world. “People usually use bright colors on dark

backgrounds, but he does it the other way around, see? It’s only when you cut through the dark layer on

top that the beauty underneath is revealed.”

God, I want to kiss him. Smash him against the wall and kiss him until he’s moaning with pleasure,

and… No, maybe just kiss him. Perhaps even hold him. Okay, that’s weird. The hell?

J always looks like he’s cold, I can’t figure out why. Maybe because he hunches slightly. Like he’s

trying to hide from something disturbing only he can see. Don’t tell me you see dead people, Jimmy. I

can’t hide a small grin. Shit, I know I shouldn’t be joking about this. I’ve got my own theory about the

origin of this dark cloud hanging over James, and it ain’t a pretty one.

Why the hell I’m so attracted to this guy I’ll probably never know. Well, apart from the obvious.

James is gorgeous, and blissfully unaware of it. He’s got the frosty dignity of someone who’s been

through it all and is still standing. And really, the most amazing, intense eyes. There’s something about

him, something I can’t figure out. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s got this way of bringing out a

side of me I normally don’t let people see. And I don’t mind him seeing it. Maybe I even want him to.

* * *

“So this is the inner sanctum.”

“Yeah, that’s my room.”

James nods and stares at the bed in the center of the room for a moment, frozen on the doorstep, like

there’s an invisible barrier keeping him out. He’s got that look on his face again, the same look he had

when I picked him up at the train station. Curtains and shutters closed, no chance of guessing what’s

going on inside. Damn, he can drive me nuts.

“Where do I sleep?”

Well, hell. I’d hoped he wouldn’t mention it, and we could just see what happens. But now I don’t

really have a choice but to put him up in a guestroom, do I? Clever bastard. I give him a look to let him

know I didn’t forget. Like I could, even if I tried. I can still hear his voice over the phone, calm, almost

cold. “I’m with Casey, you know that. I’m not coming to visit for a screw.”

Then why are you? I never asked him that. Shit, of course I want to have him, or for him to take me

again like he did that night on the beach. Oh yeah, that night… God. I don’t think that night ever ended,

because I can always feel him now, underneath my skin. I try not to think about it, but I’m hooked,

that’s the way it is. I want more. I need more. Wow, and I think that’s kinda pathetic.

But damn, not everything is about sex. This is less about sex than I expected it to be. I want to get to

know this guy. I want to know everything about him. I want it all, all the dirty little secrets, all the big

lies, and everything in-between.

Without a word I lead him to the guestrooms, and open a random one, let him step inside.

James looks around, one eyebrow arched, and smiles that little sarcastic smile. “Nice.”

Yeah, screw you too. But don’t think you get to come here and pull that “aloof and unavailable” crap

forever. We both know it won’t work. I know you want me. I just wish you’d finally admit it.

He steps to the window and looks out. “Nice pool.” Then he lifts his gaze to the darkening sky,

heavy with clouds, and there’s a bitter storm brewing in his sea-green eyes. “It’s starting to rain again.”

When he turns around to look at me leaning against the doorframe, for a moment there’s something

in his eyes and they seem to soften. “Look, Danny…” He stops, seemingly surprised to have called me

by my first name, but heck, not half as surprised as I am. “Rizzo,” he corrects himself. “I know this is

weird for you. It’s weird for me too.”

Gently raindrops are rapping against the window glass, and I wish I could wipe away this awkward

silence.

Does he do that? Does he call me Danny when he thinks of me? First time he called me that, I just

said that I liked the way he said ‘Rizzo’. I do. But what he doesn’t know is that when he says ‘Danny’, I

don’t know what to make of it. I don’t want to think about what it implies. Maybe I just don’t want to

make more of it than there really is. I don’t know why it gets to me like that. I want that more, I need

that more. But I’m never gonna ask for it unless I’m sure he wants it too. How could I ever be sure

when he’s got “I love Casey” practically stamped on his forehead?

“Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come here after all,” James continues with an insecure frown.

He doesn’t have the slightest idea just how bad that idea really was, does he?

“You hungry?” I say, ignoring his comment, because otherwise I might toss words at him that are

perhaps better left unsaid. When he shrugs I turn around. “Let’s get you something to eat then.”

* * *

He follows silently as I lead him back downstairs. He doesn’t show much interest in the contents of the

fridge when I open it. He just stands there, looking at me. I try to ignore it, but his gaze prickles on my

skin. Finally I can’t help it and turn around, forcing a mischievous smile. “What? You want me for

dinner?”

A brief smile flashes across his lips that were so warm and deliciously soft against mine. “Thanks,”

he simply says, and I know he’s not talking about dinner.

I want to cross the distance and pull him into a deep kiss, wondering why I let him do these things to

me. Wondering why he even can. I don’t get emotional. That’s not really something you do in this

house. But sometimes, like now, I wish he’d let me express myself without having to rely on words.

Because what could I possibly say?

“You’re welcome.”

Chapter 2

Uninvited

JAMES: I used to always carry a razorblade in a small, flat case in my pocket. That was plan B, a

safety net. An unusual one, yes. But at that time, it helped to know that there was a way out after all.

Funny, but hard as I try, I don’t remember what plan A was anymore.

The pale, greenish neon lights are humming lazily above me, water splashes nearby. A siren’s lure,

trying to call me back again, but I can’t be tempted. The nauseating smell of chlorine is everywhere. It

reminds me of high school, of gloating laughter and the sharp pain of my face connecting with the cold

iron of a locker door. The pain doesn’t set in until the dizziness passes, but the humiliation remains,

always. Smell and emotion, directly connected in my brain. Even as the memory of their faces fades, the

mixture of chlorine and the stench of that old locker room is as fresh as ever in my mind. I still get that

sick feeling in my stomach, and the instinct to run and hide.

Exhale. Relax. It’s only shadows. Still, sometimes I wonder, when you have too many shadows in

your life, does there ever come a point where they get too deep, and it all turns to pitch black?

I open my eyes and look across the chemical azure of Rizzo’s pool to the large front window. It’s

dark outside, but I can see the pouring rain in the light falling onto the perfect lawn of this freaking

perfect palace. Who has a swimming pool in their basement and another one in the garden anyway?

Rizzo climbs out of the pool, water dripping from his shining body. His hair looks almost black