Page 17 of Pieces of Me

Rylan craned his neck toward the source of the shouted epithet and gave a toothy grin. “Got it in one, Bradley,” he called back. “But tell me, what gave it away? I’m impressed with your gaydar.” He gave Bradley a mocking thumbs-up.

“Suck a dick, homo!”

“Mmm, I’d love to. Volunteering yours?”

Loud grumbling ensued, and a stern warning from Lester kept things from getting ugly, but Rylan knew life was going to get interesting from now on.

Gabriel elbowed him in the side. “Big balls, man. Big balls.”

Rylan would be lying if he said life was peachy, because it wasn’t. Besides the shit at school he was enduring, his home life sucked. Bob started taking over-the-road jobs again after a few months of local gigs, citing the need for the higher pay.

“You’ll help Heather out from time to time, Rylan? I told her she could count on you.”

Rylan nodded, winking at his little stepbrothers and bouncing Cara on his hip. He soon realized that “helping Heather out” meant making sure the kids were fed and put to bed every night because she was usually drunk as a skunk by seven p.m. It wasn’t overt, the stereotypical alcoholic stumbling around and slurring her words, but more of a glassy-eyed apathy. She’d sit on the porch, aimlessly rocking in the battered old chair and mumbling into her whiskey, chain-smoking until she’d stagger into the living room and pass out on the couch.

Rylan would cover her up with a quilt, get the kids situated, and try to do his homework before falling wearily into his own bed.

One night he was still awake working on an English essay when Scott climbed in through the window, stopping short when he noticed Rylan sitting cross-legged on his futon, his notebook open in his lap.

“Hey,” Rylan said quietly, trying not to stare as Scott stripped his clothes off and tossed them in the small hamper next to his bed. He was left wearing only a pair of tight black boxer briefs, and when he spun away to rummage in his drawer for clean underwear in preparation for his shower, Rylan couldn’t help but hungrily trace his eyes over one of the most beautiful bodies he’d ever seen in his life. Scott’s shoulders were broad, his back defined and tapering down into a perfect V and slim hips. His legs were long and leanly muscled, and his ass―Rylan’s mouth dried up completely at the sight of high, round buttocks.

Rylan was grateful for the notebook on his lap at that moment, and he jumped a little when Scott suddenly strode over and flopped down on the futon next to him, sprawling out. He smelled sweaty, but it was a clean sweat, a thoroughly masculine smell that did nothing to calm Rylan’s roiling senses and aching erection.

He bit his lip when Scott reached out and rubbed his hand over Rylan’s purple hair and flicked one of the cubic zirconia studs with a fingertip.

“You got everyone at school in a fuckin’ tizzy, man,” Scott drawled. “Comin’ out as gay and hangin’ around with Gracie the Lez like you two is joined at the hip.”

Rylan shrugged. “I like G,” he said. “And we gays gotta stick together, right?” Scott smirked at him and slung his arm along the back of the futon, the warmth of his body right at Rylan’s shoulders, the musky smell emanating from his furry armpit ramping Rylan’s arousal up into a fever pitch. Dear God, please don’t let me come in my pants, he prayed.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask, are you getting any fallout because of me? Socially, I mean?”

Scott didn’t say anything, although his lips tightened a fraction. Rylan put his hand on Scott’s thigh without thinking and burst out, “I’m so sorry. I know you have it rough there as it is, and I didn’t even think about how any of it would affect you―”

Shaking his head, Scott tapped his fist lightly on the back of Rylan’s hand where it rested on his thigh. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I shut down the couple of assholes who tried to start some shit, and like I told you, most people won’t out-and-out mess with me.”

Rylan realized he was still touching Scott and jerked his hand back, wondering if his palm was permanently imprinted with the feel of hard muscle, and rough hair covering warm skin.

“Besides,” Scott said, his voice low and husky, “I think you look kinda cute like this.” He flicked Rylan’s earlobe again, sending another lightning bolt of arousal racing down Rylan’s body.

“You―you do?”

“Sure,” Scott said, his eyes warm as he traced them over Rylan’s face. “For some reason it makes me happy to see that purple hair bobbing through the halls.” He pinched Rylan’s earlobe and stood, lifting both arms over his head and twisting side to side in a stretch, his ab muscles tightening and the bulge in the front of his underwear right in Rylan’s line of sight. Rylan didn’t think his own dick could get any stiffer, but it did, and he bit his lip against the sweet pain.

“Teasing the gay boy?” He was surprised when Scott dropped his arms and winked at him.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted cheekily. “Can’t help it. You’re really cute when you’re flustered.”

With that, he grabbed up his clean underwear and disappeared out the door to take his shower. Rylan blew out a shaky breath, wanting to be indignant about Scott blatantly playing him again, but finding himself unable to when he’d enjoyed himself so much ogling Scott’s beauty.

Scott had enjoyed it, too, Rylan realized, the unconditional appreciation. He had so little about his life that was open and honest.

With that thought in mind, when Scott padded back into the room, freshly showered, skin damp, wearing a pair of white underwear this time, Rylan let out a long, low wolf whistle. He blushed to the roots of his hair when Scott looked sharply at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Too much? Sorry,” Rylan mumbled, wishing he could sink into the floor. Scott tsked at him and ambled over to the futon, sinking down.

“No worries. But all of this makes me wonder, have you ever done anything? With a guy, I mean.”

Rylan stretched his legs out with a tiny groan, still keeping his notebook carefully open over his lap. He shook his head. “Nothing. Gay boys aren’t exactly thick on the ground around here, or in Crestview. At least out gay boys,” he amended. “There were a couple guys in my old school I think might have been, but they weren’t admitting it to themselves, much less me.”