Page 10 of Hating On Riot

“One, no eating food or taking a swig of anything from the fridge that’s labeled with someone’s name. Two, if you bring someone home, keep the sex noise down unless you want the rest of us to join you and your partner. We love live shows. It beats beating off to porn.”

Riot stares at my face and drops his gaze to my mouth. My mouth goes dry at the thought of Riot with his hand down his pants. I swallow, shaking off the lingering desire left over from the flying we did.

Nothing’s changed between us. He doesn’t care about my feelings. He wants to test them, to test what I feel for him. I go back to hating on Riot. That’s the only emotion I should feel for my high school bully.

“Duly noted. Thanks.”

“There’s more. Curfew at eleven on a school night. Show up after, and you’ll be locked out.”

Curfew? Locked out?

“But I’ll have a key, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you a spare, but we put a special latch on the door for those who break curfew.”

“Any other rules?”

“Nah, that’s it. Let’s go over the game rules.” He pulls his cell phone from his back pocket and hands it to me.

I ignore his screensaver and click the minimized document. I read the Nerf War rules.

“No drive-by tagging. No going to a private residence other than the opponents’. Games are played after sports practices until sunset, weekdays only. The team with the most players left untagged wins. Workplaces are safe zones. Bathrooms too, har-har.”

“Wait, do the rules include ‘har-har’?”

“No, that was me.”

“Cool. You’re loosening up already. Give me five.”

He raises his hand. We high-five like old friends. He laces our fingers as if there’s more between us. I untangle them. He smirks.

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Every part of the body is fair game except for the eyes. Eye shots are an automatic disqualification.”

“What about crotch shots?” He covers his manhood. I hold back my smile. He’s freaking adorable.

“No mention of getting the guys in the nuts or the girls on their lady parts.”

He laughs at my attempt at half-bro talk, half mortified at the idea of getting nailed in my private area.

“These rules are ridiculously easy to follow.” I hand him back his cell. “Why am I here, babysitting you?”

“You being here is more about you than me. The team wants this win badly. You’re the weak link. Let’s show them you’re as fast as they are. How about a practice run?”

“Now?”

“Better now than later.”

“What about practice?”

“Screw it. I have other things on my mind.”

Proving his point, he taps the side button on his phone. The screen lights up, and I can’t ignore the obvious.

Riot O’Sullivan, bully extraordinaire and my ex-best friend, has a picture on his phone of the kiss he stole from me. Our first kiss. The kiss that ruined us and started the hate between our brothers.

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