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.