Page 50 of Pieces of Me

“Oh my God. I never thought I’d see you again,” Scott exclaimed, his face buried in Rylan’s hair, “and here you are, walking down a Phoenix street like―”

He put Rylan down and pushed him back a little to look at him, the expression in his eyes turning from shocked to incredulous. “―like some stripper just come off a pole! What the fuck were you thinking? You’re going to get your ass kicked!”

He gave Rylan a little shake, making his teeth rattle. “You have a death wish? Or are you crazy?” Rylan couldn’t help but give a nervous laugh, and Scott’s face darkened further with indignation.

“It’s not funny,” he hissed. “This neighborhood sucks, and it isn’t safe!”

Rylan put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. “Chill, man,” he said, his tone reasonable. “I’m almost home, and I made it this far―”

A horn honked and someone shouted “Filthy homos!” right as a full cup of soda was thrown to land near their feet, splashing Rylan’s bare legs and filling one of his shoes up with the cold, sticky liquid.

“Jesus Christ!” he shouted after the departing car full of jeering young men, giving the now-empty cup a vicious kick into the gutter. “Could this day get any fucking worse?” He reached up and clutched his hair, feeling like he could scream.

Scott gave a loud snort. “Yeah, it was about to get a lot worse. Which is why I stopped in the first place.” He waved his hand toward the Circle K parking lot about fifty yards ahead, indicating a group of redneck-looking assholes Rylan could see standing there, pointing in their direction and gesturing.

“Oh. Fucking hell.” Before he could say anything else, another loud honk sounded behind them, making them both jump. A city bus was approaching the pullout, and the driver leaned on the horn again, making angry motions with his other hand.

“Come on.” Scott hurried around the front of his car to climb into the driver’s seat. Rylan yanked open the passenger door and eased himself into the low-slung car, unable to suppress a yelp as the already-restrictive fabric of the shorts tightened even more painfully around his junk.

He slouched down in the seat as far as he could and spread his legs to ease the pressure, trying not to whimper. Scott was looking over his shoulder in order to merge into traffic, and he did so smoothly, accelerating past the Circle K and the shouts of “Cocksucking pieces of shit!”

Scott weaved in and out of traffic like a maniac, the violent jolting sending fresh waves of agony through Rylan’s body. He was concentrating on his breathing, biting his lip against the moans trying to escape, when Scott asked, “Hey, where am I going? I take it you live around here?”

Rylan tried to but he couldn’t speak; even his fucking teeth hurt. He managed a wordless nod, and with a muffled oath, Scott hung a right onto a side street, screeching to a stop. Rylan clutched the door handle, feeling tears spring to his eyes and seriously wondering if he was going to pass out.

Scott gripped the wheel. “Look,” he said, “If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, but I need to know where I’m dropping you, Rylan. That’s all.”

Rylan sucked in a breath and gasped out, “You passed my p-place about three m-miles ago.”

“Why didn’t you say some―” Scott looked at him, and his eyes widened at what he must be seeing on Rylan’s face. “Shit, what’s the matter?”

Rylan waved a shaking hand at his crotch. “Shorts. Hurting―me.”

Comprehending at last, Scott leaped out of the car and pulled Rylan’s door open, helping him climb out and supporting him while Rylan tugged the gold lamé down from where it was wedged high in his crack. His eyes watered, and he almost doubled over from the pain as the blood rushed back into his constricted balls.

“Jesus, Ry,” Scott murmured over and over, his arm firm around Rylan’s waist. “What can I do?”

Rylan shook his head, breathing more normally as the agony receded. “I need to get these things off.”

Scott let go of him carefully, making sure he could stand before leaning into the backseat of the car and pulling out a duffle bag. He unzipped it and handed Rylan a pair of sweatpants.

“Here. They’re clean,” he said. “If you want to change real fast, there’s no one around.”

A sense of déjà vu swept over Rylan, giving him pause, and in the next instant, a different sort of pain stabbed through him, along with a memory: Gabriel, the hated dress, Scott coming to a timely rescue with some of his clothes then, too…

Shit. Rylan huffed out a breath and nodded. He wrestled the tight fabric of the shorts down his legs, feeling the blessed relief of his junk swinging free an instant before he yanked the sweats on.

“Thanks, Scott,” he said, clearing his throat. “I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say you saved my life, and I’m not talking about the assholes at the Circle K. But thank you for that, too.”

Scott turned around, his eyes searching Rylan’s face. “Rylan, I can’t believe it’s really you. What are you doing here?”

Rylan swallowed, looking away, a long-buried hurt welling up in his chest. “Like I said, it’s a long story.” He pressed his lips together, not willing to say anything else while standing by the side of the road in a rainbow crop top.

After a moment Scott said quietly, “Okay. Get in the car, and I’ll take you home.”

They drove in silence except for Rylan’s directions, and five minutes later were pulling into the parking lot of the run-down apartment complex Rylan currently called home.

“I can take you right up to your building,” Scott offered when Rylan waved him toward a parking space, and Rylan shook his head.