Chapter 20

"I'm not really going to intrude on your date," Kiaan said as soon as the three boys were a good distance up the road. "I just didn't want any part of that weirdness."

Sammy thought Mike would be relieved to hear this, but the former bully shocked him by speaking up in protest.

"You aren't intruding at all," Mike assured him warmly. "Come along. It will be fun."

Sammy noted the way Kiaan looked over for reassurance and nodded to let him know it was okay.

"So where are we going?" Sammy asked.

"The restaurant where my friend works. She's always giving me freebies," Mike told them.

The mention of a female friend sparked a jealous tick.

'I don't even know if he likes girls too,' Sammy thought. He was aware Mike had slept with girls but never had the same girlfriend for any length of time.

The restaurant—Scarlett's Lounge—turned out to be more of a bar that also served food. The menu boasted all the British pub classic, with a few sandwiches, wraps and paninis.

It was the same as every bar of its type, with low lighting, clashing floral decor and an underlying scent of cheap ale. The type of place mothers took their kids during the day to fill up on cheap nugget meals.

"They do this brownie sundae that's supposed to be for two, but I usually get one to myself," Mike boasted with a dopey smile.

He turned away and hugged the server, an older girl with bright green hair and stretched ears. She was short, chubby, and smiled warmly at the group of boys as she seated them.

"Damn, Tinky-Dinkie, you got tall," she gasped, sidling up to Mike.

"Carrie was my babysitter," Mike informed them, rolling his eyes.

"He was a nightmare," Carrie told them. "I used to have to hide the dishwasher tablets to stop him from gnawing on them."

She looked like she had more stories to tell but Mike shushed her, physically pushing the tiny girl away from the table.

When he returned they sat in silence for a second.

"So, I saw that Grace apologized on that thread you made," Mike said to Kiaan. "How come you deleted her comment? I thought it was pretty brave of her to own up like that."

"What are you talking about?" Kiaan frowned. "I never saw any comments from Grace. I heard she was staying at Oxford Memorial."

"Hmm," Mike nodded. "Mental breakdown her Mum said."

"So, let me get this straight, she made a comment apologizing and it got deleted?" Kiaan asked.

"Only you can delete comments on your thread," Mike said. His tone wasn't accusatory, more confused.

"I bet it was Caine. You gave him the password remember," Sammy offered. It seemed the most logical explanation.

"That guy gives me the willies," Mike said. When he noticed the looks the other boys were giving him, he corrected, "I meant the creeps not the literal..."

As Mike trailed off, pretending to read the menu, Sammy pulled his phone from his pocket to text Kiaan.

"Caine also told me not to forgive Mike. He was very adamant about it."

After a second, Kiaan replied.

"I'm starting to like Mike."

...

'I am too,' Sammy thought. 'But if I forgive him, he won't be interested in me anymore.'

"I need to go and ask Caine about this," Kiaan said, getting up from the table just as Carrie returned to take their drink order. "Sorry guys."

"Was it something I said?" Carrie asked. She placed a bowl of chips on the table, eliciting a giant grin from Mike who shoved a handful in his mouth while asking for a milkshake.

"Get a chocolate fudge milkshake," Mike suggested. "They are so good."

Sammy nodded meekly. He always hated ordering food in restaurants. It made him feel awkward—like he was going to say something wrong or accidentally order something ridiculous.

"What are you going to eat?" he asked Mike.

Flipping through the plastic-covered pages of the menu, he couldn't make up his mind. Food was clearly a big deal Mike, who was currently stuffing chips into his face, but for Sammy, food was just a way to ward off hunger.

"I like that Caucasian chicken wrap," Mike said.

Sammy looked up from his menu, eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"Mike, do you mean the Cajun wrap?"

Mike paused, hand in the chip bowl. "What did I say?"

"Caucasian?" Sammy said.

"Erm," Mike muttered. "What's the difference?"

Sammy felt guilty for laughing, but he couldn't keep it in. The idea of a Caucasian chicken being on the menu struck him as funny.

He tried to stifle the laughter when Mike's face fell, but the more he thought about it, the funnier it seemed.

"What?" Mike asked, his tone almost pleading.

"Nothing." Sammy smiled. "Ask for your Caucasian chicken."

Mike looked worried as the waitress appeared. It was a different lady—an older woman with long dark hair and olive skin.

"If you don't order it, I'm going home," Sammy teased.

By that point, Mike must have realized his faux par. He looked up at the waitress and back at Sammy with wide eyes.

Sammy rolled his eyes.

"Two Cajun wraps, please," he said to the woman.

"You were bullying me just now," Mike said, eyes wide in shock and self-pity.

'Hypocrite,' Sammy scoffed to himself.

"Maybe I want to punish you for bullying me," Sammy suggested.

Mike thought about it for a moment.

"I wonder if Damien will let you borrow that whip," he said at last.

"Pervert!" Sammy shouted, earning him stares from the neighboring tables.

"I'm just kidding," Mike insisted, but Sammy could tell by the look on his face that the idea intrigued him.

The thought of spanking Mike's naked butt did have a certain appeal, but it wasn't going to happen. It might lead to something more, and Sammy wasn't willing to sleep with a guy who probably didn't even like him.

'I'm not like Damien,' he thought.

'And yet, here I am, on a date with my victim.'

He chewed on his wrap, getting bits of lettuce and hard chicken in his teeth.

"This chicken is kinda tough," he commented.

"It's just shardy... shardular," Mike argued.

"I'm pretty sure shardular isn't a word," Sammy told him.

"It is. It's like cubular only for shards," Mike insisted. "I'll google it."

Mike messed with his phone for a moment, frowning and tutting. "Okay, I'm not finding any evidence to back this up."

Sammy performed a search of his own.

"I'm kinda shocked cubular is a legitimate word," he laughed. "If I ever play you at scrabble, I insist on taking a dictionary."

When the waitress came over to ask if the food was okay, both boys nodded and gave her a thumbs up.

"Liar," Mike muttered under his breath.

"Oh, what was I going to say? The Caucasian chicken was too shardular?" Sammy asked.

Mike laughed so hard he blew milkshake out of his nose.

'I just made the popular boy laugh,' Sammy thought. It felt good, being liked. Being wanted. Even if it wasn't real, he didn't want to give it up.

"Split a brownie sundae?" Mike asked.

"I have brownies at home," Sammy said. "My sister made them last night, but she won't eat them because she thinks she's fat."

"Are you inviting me back to your house?" Mike asked, smiling so widely all of his perfectly straight teeth were on display.

'I bet you never even had braces,' Sammy thought, feeling sour that he's had braces for two years and his teeth were still a mess.

"No, I was inviting myself to eat my sister's brownies," Sammy told him. "You can do what you like."

He said it to see Mike's smile falter. To upset him. Why?

Who knew?

Maybe it was jealousy. Or more likely, he hadn't fully forgiven him for the bullying.

It worked. Mike's face crumpled like newspaper on a fire. He looked down at his plate, poking at a piece of tomato with the flat side of his knife.

'Is he going to cry?' Sammy thought, watching as Mike sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"You still hate me," Mike muttered without looking up.

"You asked for a chance and I gave you a chance," Sammy said. He couldn't explain why, even to himself, but he wanted to see if he could make Mike cry. Seeing Mike bawl his eyes out over him would be the ultimate ego boost.

Sammy stood, dropped some money onto the table and walked away. He hoped Mike would follow and he wasn't disappointed. As he entered the alleyway at the back of the building, he felt a shove from behind.

Mike pushed him up against the cold bricks and attacked him with a kiss.

He felt hands in his hair as Mike hungrily kissed his lips and neck. When he felt Mike's tongue forcing its way into his mouth, he considered fighting him, but ultimately gave in.

'I'm seeing stars,' he thought dreamily as little flashes of color exploded behind his eyelids.

This was how kissing was supposed to feel.

He didn't want it to end. When Mike eventually pulled away for air, he had to fight the urge to yank him back in.

The pair locked eyes, both panting.

Little beads of sweat dotted Mike's brow.

'I want to taste his sweat,' Sammy realized, biting his lip. He'd never felt such an urge before tonight.

"Let's go back to your house," Mike whined, pulling on both of his arms.

"Why can't we go back to yours," Sammy asked, just out of interest. He figured he was an embarrassment to Mr. Popular, though he was clinging to some vague hope that wasn't the case.

"Your house has brownies," the food-obsessed boy replied as if the answer were obvious. "Plus, my house has two annoying older brothers."

"Hmm."

As Sammy considered it, Mike pleaded.

"Please?" he asked repeatedly, in between planting soft kisses on Sammy's face and neck. "Please?"

The situation posed a moral dilemma. He could appear cruel by refusing or make Mike happy by taking him home under false pretenses.

'After what he's put you through, you deserve to get some pleasure out of him,' a little voice in the back of his mind whispered.

Lately, he was giving to that voice more often than he would like.

After letting out a long, drawn-out sigh for effect, he nodded.