more than I think is justified for once more making a fool of myself. I close my eyes, and the images

flare up.

Pain. Pain and blackness. An all too familiar combination that my body remembers, and

automatically replays. I get a flashback so vivid that it makes me feel nauseous. Small. Defenseless.

Simon’s voice, close to my ear. Hissing, spitting in my face.

“Not so clever now, are you? You faggot, you little piece of shit.”

My fists clench on their own account. I fight the memory down, push it to the back of my mind.

I’m not sure why, but somehow it is all Rizzo’s fault. Things weren’t so bad before he came along. I

had Casey to myself. I had my little mantra about how he was straight as a railroad track, and I was

completely out of the picture. And now this, his hand on mine. Why the hell did he do that? Suddenly

there’s this maybe that starts to grow in my head.

I think it is about time Rizzo and I cut the small talk and got down to business. I want to know what

he is up to. Now more than ever, I’ll be damned if I let that bastard have Casey. Not without one hell of

a fight.

Chapter 7

Strictly Business

JAMES: I’ve only been there twice, and always with Casey, but I know the way to Rizzo’s dorm room

like I’ve walked it a million times. It is always noisy on his floor: music plays loudly and people argue

through open doors from room to room. For some reason the corridor leading to his room seems to be

the messiest of the place. Fits perfectly. If you’re out to hunt a rat, you gotta follow the breadcrumbs.

Okay, here we are. Number 91, that’s seven times thirteen. I’m not even gonna comment on that. I’m

about to knock when the door opens all by itself. The slutty blonde I remember well from the Truth or

Dare party struts past, not even deigning to look at me. Slightly amused, I shake my head and look after

her, then to Rizzo who stands in the half-open door.

“You’d do anything on two legs, wouldn’t you?”

He grins and shrugs nonchalantly. “She’s pretty supple.”

Thank you. Too much information. Opening the door wide, Rizzo steps aside to let me in. He is

wearing a pair of jeans, and apart from that, a lot of nothing. His fly is still half-open. Oh, please. I feel

like I’ve wandered onto a porno set. The air in the room is heavy with the appalling stench of cold

cigarette smoke.

“Foley, what can I do for you?”

Sure enough, he lights a cigarette. He does it with a fluid, well-practiced gesture, exactly the way

people in movies do. If I tried to do that, it would without a doubt look remarkably stupid.

I look at him with a frown, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “You can mind your own business

and stop messing with Casey.”

He coughs softly in an attempt not to laugh, puffing out smoke through his nostrils like the damn

magic dragon in that song. “What are you, his mother?”

“Is he even your type?”

“Can’t say that I have one.”

“Big surprise. Does your dick do all the thinking, or is there a brain somewhere in there?”

He nods to my crotch. “Is there a dick somewhere in there, or does your brain have to compensate?”

I smile weakly. “Please. The only compensating I have to do is for the stunning lack of intelligence

around me.”

He seizes me up with a sly half-smile, cigarette in hand, looking cool, untouchable, and clearly

amused. My fists clench. I glare at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can.”

Damn the bastard, I know he is right. And it makes me feel so powerless. There isn’t much in the

world that I hate more than this feeling. God, I want to punch him. Real hard. Hard enough to see some

blood.

He takes a step closer to me, his eyes on my face. “Why exactly are you here, Foley?”

“Do I mumble? Talk in a strange tongue? Stay away from Casey!”

“Make me.”

Another step closer, invading my personal space. I don’t move an inch, but I’m seething. I’m not

going to let him provoke me. I’m not going to lose my temper. I’m not going to let him see how furious

his nonchalance makes me, because that’s exactly what he wants. Oh, screw that.

I grab him and slam him against the wall, but he just laughs. Laughs as I pin him to it with my left

hand, right arm across his chest, close to his throat.

“I’ve really had enough of your shit.”

His laughter dies as I lean in closer and stare into his eyes with cold, barely controlled rage. “What

you gonna do now? Beat me up? Way to display your superior intelligence.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m gonna fuck your precious Casey, Foley. I’m gonna ride him hard until he comes screaming my

name. How you gonna stop me? How far are you willing to go?”

I’m this close to snapping completely, and when he realizes, something flickers in his dark orbs. His

breath is fast and hot on my face, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He lets his cigarette fall, and

puts it out without looking down. It’s there in his eyes, no mistake. Raw, undisguised lust. Bad boy, you

like it rough, don’t you? You’re such a slut. I can see it, but it still takes a moment to fully register that

he’s turned on by what I’m doing. Turned on by me. Taken aback, I let him go.

We stare into each other’s eyes. Rizzo is panting softly. Then, with a sudden movement, he takes a

step and grabs me, pulls me to him. Crushing his lips against mine, he buries his tongue in my mouth.

And I let him. Like an idiot, I’m overwhelmed by the sensation.

Something inside of me springs to life and I slam him back against the wall. He breaks the kiss for

long enough for a low moan to escape his mouth. He tastes bitter, like cold smoke. I don’t like it, but his

tongue slides across mine, and that’s all it takes to make me hard.

Rizzo, Rizzo for Christ’s sake, wants me. He slides his hand under my shirt. Warm fingers claw into

my back. Relentlessly. He’s in control, and still he moans something that sounds like my name. Sounds

like James, not Foley. Sounds damn needy. He opens my zipper, slides his hand in, and I let out a heated

gasp. Wanting him to touch me and at the same time wanting him to pull back. Rizzo’s eyes are black

with desire as he steers me towards the bed. I only struggle for a moment, then I allow myself to be

pushed onto it. The last few months have been a nightmare, when even tossing off could never really

release the tension, because Casey was still out of reach. I shut my eyes. I just lie there, and as he takes

me into his mouth, I don’t want this to happen, and yet it feels amazing. Don’t stop. He makes me

whimper like a small, wounded animal. Oh god, so incredibly good.

***

I’m dizzy afterwards, flushed, and wonderfully drowsy. I could fall asleep on the spot. Rizzo flops down

beside me, still panting a little. I notice the bulge in his jeans. My eyes wander over his chest, up to his

face. Fine pearls of sweat glisten above his perfectly curved mouth and on his forehead. I would sell my

grandmother’s soul to touch him right now. But I won’t. I never asked for a freaking blow-job. I owe

him zip and zero. Rizzo turns his head towards me and grins to himself.

“What?” I growl.

“You and your freaking pride, Foley.”

“Eat me. I hope your dick rots and falls off.”

“Mmm. I love it when you get all mushy, baby.” In spite of his sarcasm, Rizzo’s eyes are

surprisingly warm. Abruptly, he reaches over and cups my face with his hand, pulls me towards him. He

leans in and kisses me. I don’t return the kiss, but I let him go ahead anyway. I’m not sure why. His

hand slides down my cheek, mimicking something that could almost be called a caress. There is a