Free Second You Sin by Scott Sherman Page B

gets awkward.
    If Randy had an opinion, he kept it to himself.
    “Besides,” I told him, “I think he’s into big boys like you. Tel you what, wake up right now and you can ride him into the night like a Harley.” Even that wasn’t enough incentive to rouse him.
    After a while I felt like Sandra Bul ock in While You Were Sleeping. Only Randy was even better-looking than Peter Gal agher, and I wasn’t in love with him.
    But it did break my heart to see him like this.
    As I was leaving, I asked one more question.
    “Listen, Randy, you’re going to think this is crazy, and it probably is, but is it possible someone did this to you on purpose? The thing that has me wondering is, just before that car hit you, you were going to tel me about some trick. Who was that, Randy? What did you want me to know?”
    I waited for a minute, but Randy wasn’t tel ing.

    As I was leaving Randy’s room, Cody just happened to be walking by. Funny coincidence, huh?
    “Hey,” he said. “You OK?”
    “Yeah, I’m fine. Wish I could say the same about Randy. Do you think . . .” I wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence.
    Cody put a hand on my arm. “I think he’l be fine.
    He seems like a strong guy. Hel , he seems like a friggin’ gladiator.”
    I laughed. “He is pretty hunkalicious, isn’t he?”
    “You sure you two aren’t . . .”
    “No,” I assured him, “we’re just friends. I’m kind of involved with someone else these days.”
    “Good!” Cody’s hand dropped off my arm. “Sorry, I just meant I was happy for you.”
    “What about you?” I said. “You seeing someone?”
    “Me?” Cody frowned and shook his head. “I have bad luck with men.”
    I scrunched up my face. “You? A boy like you should be beating the guys off with sticks. And not just the ones who are into that kind of thing.” I meant it, too. He was smart, he seemed sweet, and you could just tel he’d be a snack and a half in bed. Plus, did I mention he was adorable in that lives-in-a-library way?
    “I’d tel you about it if I wasn’t afraid of boring you to death.”
    “I’m tougher than I look,” I promised him. “Tel me everything.”
    Cody looked at the big clock on the wal . “I could take a break. You brave enough to eat cafeteria food?”

    “Told you I’m tough,” I answered.

    Cody and I found a quiet table in the cafeteria. He sipped a coffee and tore into a tuna fish sandwich. I got a bottle of water and a croissant.
    Cody was tel ing me about his man troubles. “Me, I’m kind of like that girl from Twilight. Bookish, pale, a little too thin. But a guy like Randy is al cheekbones and muscles and perfect blond hair.
    Guys like that don’t notice guys like me.” The fact that Cody didn’t know how hot he was only made him more attractive. “You’re, like, total y luscious,” I assured him.
    “Oh please.” He stuck out his tongue. “I’m just a regular guy. The only thing that makes me even a little special is . . .” He stopped and clamped a hand over his mouth. “Strike that last part,” he said.
    “What?” I asked.
    “Nothing. I’m embarrassed. Just forget I said anything.”
    I swatted him on the head. “Come on, spil .”
    “It’s embarrassing,” he moaned.
    I lowered my head and gave him my most threatening glare.
    “OK,” he said, “it’s just that, some guys, they like me because . . . look, I’m don’t want to sound like I’m bragging on myself. Can we just drop it?” I pointed my croissant at him. “I have a baked good, Cody, and I’m not afraid to use it.”
    “OK, it’s just that some guys like me because, at the gym and al , guys notice . . .” Cody blushed again.
    “What? A third arm? Webbed feet? You’re real y a girl?”
    “No, no, no.” Cody took a deep breath. “I’m, wel , let’s just say my ears aren’t the only part of me that’s big.”
    “You mean you’re embarrassed because you’ve got a big dick?”
    “Wel , not ‘big’ so much as ‘huge.’