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.