dirty little secret
Aaron asked, “What’s your deal? What’s going on?”
Andrew had no choice. He stood up, walked to the bowl of freshly cut melon surrounded by pools of watermelon juice and an assortment of black seeds, and plucked a piece of the fruit. It was dark red and glistening and sweet on his tongue.
It tasted like ash. Like a dirty little secret. Like a mistake.
- Part 1 of dirty little secret
Neil was following Andrew home. It was eleven o’clock at night, four weeks from the end of the semester and the start of summer, and two weeks after Andrew came to Neil’s house drunk and cuddly.
“Go away,” Andrew said. They had ten steps between them.
“I just want to make sure you get home okay,” Neil said. He was grinning.
“I have knives,” Andrew said.
“I’m deathly afraid of knives.”
- Part 2 of dirty little secret
“Neil, my dove, it’s, like, two in the afternoon. Why are you still sleeping?”
Neil looked outside. “I was up late.” And by late he means he fell asleep around six in the morning after a long night of gaming.
“Oh? Andrew?” Nicky waggled his eyebrows.
“Nicky,” Neil said, “Andrew hasn’t spoken to me in three days. Why do you think I’m on the couch?”
- Part 3 of dirty little secret