"Good," Wymack said. "I'd have a hell of a time fitting 'Wesninski' on a jersey.
"You gave me a key and called it home."
Nicky reached for the remote and cut the TV off. "I've got a theory that Renee and Jeremy are long-lost siblings. What do you think would happen if they ever joined forces?"
"They'd get murdered," Aaron said, getting up from the other beanbag chair. "War's profitable; no one wants their world-peace nonsense."
Nicky made a face at him. "Thanks for that cheery dose of reality."
He'd come to the Foxhole Court every inch a lie, but his friends made him into someone real.
“Ninety percent of the time the very sight of you makes me want to commit murder. I think about carving the skin from your body and hanging it out as a warning to every other fool who thinks he can stand in my way."
"What about the other ten?”
Time was nothing. Seconds were days, were years, were the breaths that caught between their mouths and the bite of Neil's fingernails against his palms, the scrape of teeth against his lower lip and the warm slide of a tongue against his.
"That's a first," Neil said. "Do I get a prize for shutting you up?"
"A quick death," Andrew said. "I've already decided where to hide your body."
"Six feet under?" Neil guessed.
"Stop talking," Andrew said, and kissed him.
Andrew kissed him like this was a fight with their lives on the line, like his world stopped and started with Neil's mouth.
Andrew dug a finger in Neil's cheek and forcibly turned his head away. "Don't look at me like that. I am not your answer, and you sure as fuck aren't mine.”
"I won't be like them," Neil said. "I won't let you let me be."
"One hundred and one," Andrew said, "going on one hundred and two."
"You're a terrible liar," Neil said, and Andrew kissed him into silence.
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