my hair. I’m not sure what (or whose) it is, but the shampoo gets rid of it quick enough.

I think about giving myself a little personal attention in the shower, but I’m sort of afraid I might end

up slipping, and I’m not sure I’d be able to stand back up in my current condition. And I do not want to

spend another afternoon sitting naked on the floor of a dorm bathroom. So that idea is vetoed and I

finish up my shower.

I get dressed slowly, still needing coffee. Badly. I’d love something stronger. But what is it they say?

Beggars can’t be choosers, or some crap like that. I guess this is what it means. So I’ll settle for the

coffee. And thank god that most of my clothes are black, because I’m not sure I’d be able to match

colors right now.

Black jeans, black t-shirt, black shoes. My hand is surprisingly steady, so I take my chances with the

eyeliner. I’m able to get it on without poking myself in the eye. Much.

There’s a cafe on campus not too far from my dorm, and the coffee there is pretty good. Better than

anywhere else around here at least. And don’t ask me why there’s only one place on this entire campus

where you don’t gag when you drink the coffee. It’s a goddamn university! People are either hungover

or studying. Either way, they need decent coffee.

I mean really!

Better than being at home though. There I have to make my own coffee. And by the time I get up,

that automatic piece of crap coffee maker is set for the next day. And damn if I can figure out how to

override the thing when I’m hungover. And it’s not like anyone else in that house is going to stop in the

kitchen while I’m there and show me how.

Bastards.

I finally put it on the list of “Things Nick Needs While He’s Here.” Non-automatic Mr. Coffee. That

damn list is hit or miss, though. Sometimes I don’t think anyone looks at it for weeks at a time, but two

days later my Mr. Coffee showed up on the kitchen counter. Mom never said a damn thing about it. I

doubt she’s even the one that bought it.

Doesn’t change the fact that I still currently need coffee. I feel like a freaking zombie. One of those

that’s missing a few body parts or something. You know, like an arm and half a brain.

I’m still half a block away from the place, but I can just see someone walking in through the door. Even

from here I can immediately recognize him by the way he moves.

Because I remember the way he moves.

Rizzo. Best, hottest lay I’ve had in a long time. And it was last year, which says something that I can

still remember it. It’s like he got stuck in my head, or something like that. Not that it’s important or

anything. We had to work together because of that show, but I don’t think we’ve said a word to each

other since then. On or off stage.

Wouldn’t really mind doing that again, though, and that’s not something I usually go for. You start

hanging around one person too much, things get complicated. And I don’t need that.

It’s pretty crowded inside when I push my way through the door, and whose bright idea was it to put

bells on the damn door? I need bells right now about as much as I needed that bitch shouting at me

earlier.

The cafe isn’t big, but it isn’t small either. But I can immediately tell where he is. It’s like the whole

place adjusts itself to him. I don’t know how he does it. I wish I did.

Holy shit. He’s actually looking at me. What the…? He hasn’t done that since… And what the hell is

wrong with that asshole at his table? What did I do to him that he looks about ready to shove his coffee

mug down my throat? Back off, man. Not like I slept with your mom or anything.

At least I don’t think so.

I’ve been pushing myself past people this whole time, and I’m finally at the counter. I can’t

remember what her name is, the girl behind the counter, but I think I might love her. She says she’ll

bring me my coffee. Hallelujah.

I risk a glance back over at the table across the cafe while I’m waiting, but no one’s looking this way

anymore. I’m not sure what that was all about before, but they’re obviously past it now.

I can’t bring myself to care too much, because coffee girl is back. And she’s the best person in the

world right now. Coffee. Lovely, black, and sweet. It’s way too hot, which I find out only after taking

that first big gulp. It comes down to weighing pain against caffeine, and caffeine obviously wins. It’s

nearly perfect. And it would be perfect if I had a smoke to go with it.

And suddenly, there is one. Only it belongs to Rizzo. Who has somehow managed to cross the cafe

while I was trying to mainline my way-too-hot coffee. And damn if I didn’t forget what being this close

to him does to my body. My hangover’s instantly gone and the hair is standing up on my arms and he’s

giving me that grin (that “screw you, I’ll do what I want to” grin) that I can actually feel. He’s close

enough now that I can feel it when he exhales in my direction. I inhale, not sure if I’m breathing the

smoke in, or him.

He’s loose and relaxed, and he looks the way I feel when I’m performing on stage. A thought rams

into my brain out of absolutely nowhere, and I realize that he is performing for someone. I follow my

hunch and glance over his left shoulder, and sure enough, Rizzo’s “friend” looks about ready to spit

nails. I can’t help but grin.

So that’s what this is all about. Hell, I’ve played this game before, more than once. Nothing better to

piss someone off than going to “that boy with all the piercings”. I’ve gotten good at helping make

people jealous, but even if I wasn’t, there’s no way in hell I’m going to say no to that look Rizzo’s

giving me. He doesn’t even need to say a damn thing.

We just stand there for a minute, still not saying a word. I watch him smoke his cigarette until he

looks back over at me and one corner of his mouth quirks up. Then he turns and walks to the door, and

I’m burning the back of my throat on the last of my coffee and following after him. I throw a grin back

over my shoulder as I push out the door and laugh to myself as I watch that guy’s eyes darken.

And then I’m done laughing, because I’m back in the sun, and blinking at the light, cursing the fact

that I was too out of it to grab my sunglasses. I feel like I’m waking up all over again, and have to stop

myself from rubbing at my eyes and messing up the liner.

Somehow, stepping into the sun almost made me forget about Rizzo, but suddenly my vision clears

and he’s right there - closer than I thought he’d be, and still with that grin on his face. And damn does

he look good.

I’m very aware that I’m not at my best at the moment, especially standing next to him. I’m hungover

and waiting for the caffeine to fully kick in. I’d be worried, but he doesn’t really seem to mind.

He starts walking and I follow until he takes a quick turn into one of the campus buildings. I don’t

even notice at first, and I take a few more steps before he leans the upper half of his body back out the

door.

“Hey!” He’s grinning even more at me when I turn around in surprise. He raises an eyebrow as I

walk back towards him. I don’t say anything, and I know he’s laughing at me.

I vaguely recognize the building we’re in. I think I might’ve had a class here last year that I went to just

enough to not fail. Up one hallway and around a corner and I’m not quite sure where we’re going when

he grabs my arm and pulls me into the men’s room.

We’re barely through the door when I’m pulled to the side and my back is against a tiled wall. A

split second later he’s pressed up against me, and even just that feels so amazing. I have to close my