Chapter 107

The silent darkness pressed around him, and Stacy was all too aware of Darian falling asleep in his room down the hall. Downstairs, the grandfather clock chimed the hour. Briefly, Stacy remembered Ange, but it was too late to call his friend, and Stacy couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed. 20

On Monday morning, Darian drove Stacy to school. At the bus stop on Washington Street, Stacy pulled his cap down to hide his face—he could almost imagine Lamar staking the block out, waiting for him to get off the bus just to kick his ass or drag him screaming back to the apartment, but he didn’t see the Trans Am idling at the curb. Who was he kidding? Lamar wasn’t even out of bed this early in the morning. No matter how pissed he was at Stacy, he never woke up before noon if he could help it.

With only a scant few days left before the GED, all of Stacy’s teachers began to pass out practice tests. From first period through lunch, Stacy hunched over his desk, scribbling in little bubbles as he worked through question after question. By the time he met up with Darian in the cafeteria, his fingers buzzed from writing and a dull headache pulsed above his right eye. Thanks God for woodshop—if he took another test, he’d scream. “I am tested out,” he told Darian as he sat down across the lunch table from his teacher. “Every time I close my eyes, all I see are these green Scantron sheets. They’re making me sick.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Darian told him. “The more you do it, the better you get.”

Stacy sputtered into his can of soda, struggling to swallow his drink as he tried not to laugh. Darian gave him a warning look, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. “What did I say?” he asked, cautious.

“Nothing,” Stacy gasped when he could speak. Then he laughed. “The more you do it…hell, I should be the best fuck around if that’s the case, you know?” Beneath the table, his foot nudged Darian’s, but something in his teacher’s face dried up his laughter. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” With a quick look around to make sure no one overheard, Darian added, “Just not here.”

Stacy frowned at the sandwich on his lunch tray, feeling like a chastised child. Last week if he’d said that, Darian would have laughed, maybe shook his head, a faintly embarrassed grin on his face. Last week they were just friends and the flirting had been innocent because there was no threat of it becoming anything more but now…now we have to be careful, Stacy reminded himself.

Still, he was only kidding. Ange would’ve laughed—

Ange

A pang of regret shot through Stacy and he remembered his promise to call his friend the night before. Fuck. When would he get another chance to talk to Ange? When would he see him again?

Darian cleared his throat, interrupting Stacy’s thoughts. “Stace? You still with me?”

“What?” Stacy shook his head to clear it. “I’m here. Sorry.” At Darian’s slight frown, he said it again. “I’m sorry.”

Cautiously, Darian asked, “Are you mad?”

Stacy gave him a quick smile. “No. Darian, you’re right. Not here.”

For a long moment, Darian watched him. Just as Stacy was about to apologize again, his teacher asked softly, “You’d tell me if you were?”

Stacy nodded in emphasis. “Of course.”

“Good.” Darian turned back to his lunch, but not before he gave Stacy a conspiratorial wink. “I’d hate to piss you off without being able to make up for it until after you take the GED.”

Warmth flooded Stacy at Darian’s words. “How would you make it up?” Stacy asked, coy. “I want details.”

“Two weeks,” Darian promised. “I’ll show you then.”

* * * *

Thoughts of Ange trailed Stacy into woodshop. As he cut out intricate curlicues with a jigsaw, he stared past the plywood and tried to remember when he’d seen his friend last. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember. Earlier this year, he didn’t go a day without talking to Ange, either on the phone or in person, the two of them lying naked on Lamar’s futon bed while sharing a smoke, Ange’s hand resting on Stacy’s hip, both of them sexed out and sated. When did that change? And, more importantly, why?

From across the room, Stacy heard Darian’s booming laugh and sighed. Thatwas why. Stacy had pushed aside everything else in his life to make room for Darian, then set him on a pedestal in the midst of it all. He was so wrapped up in his teacher, his boss, his friend, that he didn’t have the time or even the emotion left to be bothered with anything—or anyone—else. Still, he missed Ange. Missed his friend’s slow smile, his dark eyes, long hair, throaty voice. The heated touch of his skin. Just thinking about him stirred Stacy’s blood. He should see him again—they were still friends, right? He needed to see him, soon, now, today.