Can’t these dudes just mop themselves up and beat it?

Ario and I never took this long. Our few times together involved a lot of starting and stopping so I could get comfortable—a moment which never really came. Gosh, Ario is so lucky he met a gem like me. All my bad sex and constant crying must be totally worth the trouble of dealing with my asshole mother. I wish being gay was more fun. Everyone else looks like they’re having so much fun, but as soon as I enter Queer Land, it’s all danger camps and punishment and being too tightly wound to enjoy the little sex I was getting.

God, do I want to be straight?

Ask again later, you mess, when this closet isn’t cooking your brain.

A burst of radio feedback interrupts my hellish spiral, and a breathless voice comes: “This is Briggs.” A muffled response returns from his walkie—anger. The Reverend, most likely. He’s been trying to reach him, but for some reason, Briggs wasn’t answering. “I know,” Briggs responds testily. “I’ve been trying to reach you, too, but something’s interrupting the signal. Weird. I’ll be there in a minute.”

They’re leaving!

This news is the next best thing to a cool drink of water. Marcos wipes his sweat- (and possible stress crying) dampened face, and I peek out of the slatted opening just in time to catch Briggs yanking up his shorts. “Fun’s over,” he says, chucking Drew his camper shirt from the floor. “I gotta round up Mr. Major.”

“What’s so special about this new kid?” Drew pouts as they both pull on their tops.

“Eh, the Reverend knows his mum.” Briggs slides behind Drew, both of their fair skins still rashy pink from their workout. “And apparently…the kid knew Ricky Hannigan.”

“No shit!” Drew spins around at full attention. I press against the slats, not daring to blink. “Does he know about—?”

“Absolutely not. And he can’t find out.”

Find out what? Does Drew know what happened to Ricky?

Marcos tenses next to me as Drew rolls his eyes and carelessly brushes a knot out of his golden mane. As quick as a cobra, Briggs clamps a hand to his boyfriend’s cheeks: “HEY. I’m not joking. The Reverend’s been wigging out ever since Ricky died, and the topic needs to GO AWAY. You don’t want to see what’ll happen if the Reverend thinks we’ve been talking about Ricky—”

“Jesus, fine!” Drew slaps Briggs’s hand away, and to my astonishment, there is no trademark flash of anger. Satisfied, Drew smirks and puts another inch of distance between them. “I didn’t know you were so scared of the Reverend. It’s kind of a turnoff…”