Page 102 of Sapphire Spring

Then he saw the look on Naser’s face.

Naser felt like he’d had no choicebut to come downstairs, to answer Mason’s call.

He blamed himself for not putting up more of a stand in thebedroom, not saying something about Chadwick sooner. And now, as he studied theman he’d only referred to as Bleachers Guy since graduating high school, therewas a chance thebastard’sextensive face work mightmake this whole thing bearable—the implants and fillers rendered himunfamiliar.

Almost.

But the look in his eyes was the same—all challenge andhate. The same look Chadwick had given him that day senior year when he’dfinally managed to roll over onto his back, head roaring with pain, coughingdirt.

That was the part that had haunted him the most.

Chadwick hadn’t taken off running after his assault. He’dlingered, stood over him to make his point, as if to say,I gave you whatyou want and then punished you for it.But the worst had always been hismemory of the pain in his throat, of how it had left him hoarse for days, andhow every time his mother had asked him about it, he’d lied and told her hethought he was getting a cold. And the lie only made the memories come roaringback. One minute he’d been down on his knees, thinkingfinally.FinallyI get to do a secret, dirty, sexy thing like I readabout in those stories on the Internet. The next he’d slammed headfirst into apost.

“Sure,” Chadwick said.

Mason looked stunned.“Sure?”

Chadwick nodded more emphatically, chewing his lower lip ina way that made him look thoughtful, which Naser suspected was an act. “Yeah, Imean, can’t say I blame you.” Chadwick stared into his friend’s eyes. “Kidsucks a mean dick, doesn’t he?”

Mason looked like he’d been punched in the stomach.

Naser’s vision blurred, and he felt his jaw quiver. Somehowthe idea that Chadwick, all these years later, would talk about that long agomoment as if it had been nothing more than a hookup made Naser want to scream.And then there was Mason’s desperate, pleading look, a look that seemed to say,What’shappening? What’s Chadwick saying?

“Tell him the whole story.” Naser’s voice was a crossbetween a whisper and a gasp.

Chadwick huffed with laughter, as if he thought Naser wasabout to embarrass himself.

Quaking inside, Naser took another step down the stairs. “Tellhim what you did to me before I could get up off myknees, after you forced me to swallow. Tell him how you grabbed me and threw meheadfirst into a post, so hard I could barely breathe, so that it felt like myskull was on fire. Tell him how you grabbed me by the back of the neck andshoved a handful of dirt down my throat sofarIchoked, and said,This is what you’ll be breathing if you ever tell anyoneabout this, fag.Tell him that part,Chadwick.”

The only sound that came next was Mason’s breaths. Breathshe was struggling to take in. Naser’s breaths felt too small to make a sound.

Chadwick turned and looked at him. There was no shame in hiseyes. “What can I say? A mouth’s a mouth, Prancer.”

The next thing Naser knew, Chadwick was flying.

Because Mason had grabbed him by the front of his shirt andthrown him.

So fast,was all Naser could think.

First, they crashed to the floor just past the dining table,then they were up and scrumming into the living room area, spinning dangerouslyclose to the coffee table before a roundhouse punch from Mason slammed Chadwickinto the wall just shy of the television.

Chadwick rushed Mason with enough force to send themcrashing into the side of the coffee table, knocking the glass surface sidewaysoff its seashell base before they flew over the top in a tangle of limbs,landing on the sofa behind it hard enough to tip it back against the wall.

Then it was a tussle on the cushions, each man struggling topin the other, neither man succeeding. It would have looked comic if theyhadn’t both been spotting the white cushions with blood.

Two men fighting without regard for any of the physicalobjects in their presence.

Even though Mason had thrown the first blow, it had eruptedas quickly as Chadwick’s assault that long ago afternoon behind the bleachers,when it had become clear, too late, that his response to the furtive pleasureNaser had given him would be furious, shame-filled silence.

They crashed to the floor just shy of the sliding glassdoor. When they rose, Chadwick tried to make a run for it, realizing what Nasercould see. A volcano of rage inside of Mason had erupted, and Chadwick would belucky not to drown in lava.

But Mason grabbed him and turned him and landed an uppercutagainst the man’s jaw, sending him backward into the glass door, stunning himenough for Mason to grab him by his shirt and toss him back in the otherdirection.

This time, the glass coffee table did shatter.

“Is that what you did?” Mason roared.

Chadwick groaned and slid off the giant carved seashell andonto a bed of shattered glass.

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