a relentless craving for Cheetos, than out drinking or having unprotected sex or experimenting with harder drugs,” Rian retorted firmly. “So yes, I looked the other way. There’s little way to stop them, anyway. Everyone has an older brother who’ll sneak them a bag, no matter how much we confiscate.”
Damon ground his teeth, forcing himself to look back at that haughty expression, that absolutely insufferably imperious way Rian had of lofting his brows. “And you didn’t think to mention this might have something to do with Chris?”
“I’ve never seen him sneaking anything, so no.” Rian jerked one shoulder in a tense shrug. “And I thought you’d know if he failed a drug screening for team play. That is mandatory for high school sports now, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t cheat it.”
“Does Chris,” Rian said primly, “seem like the kind of boy who goes around begging for cups of untainted urine, Damon?”
Damon blinked.
Stared into Rian’s tightly irritated face, his mouth drawn in a thin line of disapproval.
And burst into laughter.
He couldn’t help himself. Damon’s chest ached with it, his entire body shaking roughly as he pressed a hand over his sternum and tried to get his wheezing under control.
Jesus Christ, Rian Falwell was something else.
“What,” Rian bit off icily, “is so fucking amusing?”
“I don’t—you—I can’t—” Damon coughed, his eyes stinging, before he managed to take in a deep breath, straightening and doing his best to mimic Rian’s haughtily offended tone as he parroted back, “‘Does Chris seem like the kind of boy who goes around begging for cups of untainted urine, Damon?’”
Rian’s left eye twitched spasmodically.
Before he jerked his face to the side, mouth compressing and cheeks puffing out on a strangled snort of laughter. He closed his eyes and held both hands up as if surrendering.
“...okay. All right. Okay,” he groaned. “I’m aware I sound ridiculous.”
Damon let out a few more snickers, rubbing his knuckles under his eyes, then breathed in deep and pulled himself under control. “Only a little. Not quite as much as when you were slinging that shelf of dicks around.” He peered past Rian, at the little penis forest planted along that back table. “You really gonna make them exhibit them?”
Exhaling, Rian opened his eyes, peering over his shoulder at the pottery dicks. “No. I’m not really into punishment by forced humiliation. Not my kink.” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t mind letting them think I will, though.”
Damon only half heard the last part.
When his brain had come to a grinding halt at not my kink, when the last thing he needed was his mind connecting anything to do with this stuck up pretty boy and kinks.
Rian just...just...made him too damned angry, and Damon didn’t like it.
Didn’t like himself this way, when this wasn’t who he was, and he couldn’t figure out why the hell every little thing Falwell said got him so fucking heated up until he was ready to snap at the smallest damned things.
He could feel a fight building up inside him right now, like that was his instinctive reaction to the way that irritating wisp of a man seemed to catch his attention in all the wrong ways and it was the only fucking way he could suppress it. No, goddammit. He wasn’t going to start another fucking fight with Rian just to avoid thinking about...about...
About the fact that even when he was being a little snot, Rian Falwell was gorgeous as hell.
And Damon didn’t really know what to do with that.
Other than to just...slump forward, thudding his forehead against the door frame above his curled fingers and muttering, “...sorry. I’m sorry.”
He just...waited. Waited for the rejection, or the sarcastic—whatever. Whatever, let Rian say whatever he wanted.
But Rian didn’t say anything.
And Damon held his tongue for several moments longer, before frowning and lifting his head, glancing back again.
Rian just watched him with his head tilted to one side like a confused kitten, hazel eyes dark and curious, mouth drawn into a puzzled line.
“What?” Damon asked, and nearly winced when he heard the harsh bark in his own voice.
“You keep apologizing to me,” Rian said softly.
Damon took a deep breath and made himself turn to face Rian fully, settling to lean his back against the door frame with the cool wood pressing between his shoulder blades, along his spine. “I keep being a jackass to you,” he admitted. “When you’re a jackass, you apologize.”
Rian opened his mouth, then closed it again, his gaze darting to the side as he held up one finger.