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Diego laughed, like it was all a big joke.

“Fine,” Ricky said, marching over to him. “You win.”

Diego blinked. “What?”

“I’ll do it. But not for this.” He shoved the wadded-up bills against Diego’s chest. Two of the bills fell to the ground. The third stuck to his sweaty pecs. “You have to stop picking on me. That’s the deal.”

Diego snorted. Then his eyes narrowed. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. But only if you leave me alone afterwards. Ready?” Ricky stared openly at his boxers. “Let’s see it. Come on now! Don’t be shy. Whip it out.”

Diego just stood there, as if unsure what to do.

Ricky laughed humorlessly. “That’s what I thought.” He spun around, grabbed his backpack, and walked out of the locker room certain that he’d be crushed beneath a ton of furious muscle at any moment. But he wasn’t. He made it to his next class unscathed.

Diego was later than usual when he finally showed up. He was looking right at Ricky when he walked inside the classroom.

“Why are you late this time?” their teacher asked with an exasperated sigh.

“I was talking to Coach Henshaw,” Diego grumbled.

“Then maybeIshould have a talk with him. Take a seat.”

Diego plopped down in the desk next to his. Ricky split his attention between the front of the class and the corner of his eye. Diego kept looking at him, but it was difficult to tell how angry he was. Ricky finally faced him when the bell rang, needing to know how much danger he was in. Diego’s expression was… Mean? Hot? Crazy? Who the hell knew anymore!

Ricky grabbed his backpack and rushed for the door. He was halfway down the hall when he heard, “Hey. Hold up.Hey!” A thick arm blocked his path, Diego’s palm slamming against the locker to his right. Ricky tried to duck beneath the arm. Diego’s leg kicked out to block him. When he turned, Diego used the restof his body to trap him in place. His arms were to either side of Ricky’s head, the leather jacket creaking.

“After school,” Diego said.

“Why?” Ricky demanded. “You want to fight?”

“No.” Diego clenched his jaw a few times, his voice lowering. “Let’s have some fun.”

Ricky stared into brown eyes full of wary need. “Okay,” he managed to squeak.

“After school,” Diego repeated, pushing himself off the lockers. “In the grove.”

Ricky nodded silently.

Diego walked away.

Ricky remained where he was, his head spinning. Was this really happening? It had to be a trick. A trap! Eventually he found the strength to walk the rest of the way to the cafeteria, where he joined Omar in line.

“Dave says that it’s impossible to drink half a gallon of milk without barfing,” his friend informed him. “How many pints of chocolate milk would that be? I might do that instead of getting spaghetti. I’m sure he’s full of it.”

“Four pints,” Ricky murmured, too preoccupied with his own situation to care either way. “Hey, do you know where the grove is?”

“Thegrove?” Omar asked before grinning. “Why? Are you trying to buy weed? If so, we should talk. My birthday is this weekend.”

“I don’t know any dealers,” Ricky said.

“Oh. Was it a girl? Because if so, holy shit man, that means she wants to make out with you!”

“It does?”

“Yeah! That’s what people call the woods west of the school. There are all sorts of little paths in the grove that lead nowhere. Perfect for a private moment, or maybe a little groping.” Omar pantomimed like he was squeezing two invisible tangerines. “Groping in the grove… God that sounds hot. Was it a girl?”

Ricky stared before shaking his head. “No. I just overheard some people talking about it and wondered.”