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Darius D’Angelo hated to lose. Which was unfortunate for him, because I considered irritating him an Olympic event.

“Okay.” He rolled his shoulders. “You wanna do this?”

I slowly nodded, and his mouth twitched as he inched towards me. I matched him step for step. And just when I thought he might bolt away, Darius lunged.

I dodged him and he grabbed the back of my hoodie. I twisted away. He caught my wrist but I yanked free. Both of us were trying not to laugh now.

“Take it off, damn it.”

I shook my head and he finally reached for the mask. I slapped his hand away. Hard. Feeling the sting of flesh on my gloves.

“Ow! Motherfucker.” He reached again, but I ducked and this time I took off.

He chased me between the trees because now I was retreating. That was not part of the plan. I turned towards the lake and his footsteps followed.

“You started this!” he called out.

I glanced over my shoulder. Darius was right behind me. I accelerated but he did too.

I hit the dock. Bad tactical decision. The boards thudded under my shoes. I made it halfway before stopping. Water on both sides of me. Darius behind me. No escape.

He slowed and I turned. Moonlight danced across his face. His chest rose and fell hard, showing all those sweaty muscles.

He pointed at me. “Got you. Nowhere to go, motherfucker.”

I shuffled backwards. Another step had my heel touching the edge of the dock.

Darius smiled triumphantly, and I hated how beautiful he was. Even as a kid, when beautiful wasn’t a word I would’ve dared attach to another boy, Darius had always been broad shoulders and dark eyes and a mouth permanently made for saying the exact thing he refused to acknowledge.

He reached for the mask again, and I grabbed his wrist. His smile disappeared but not because he was angry. It was the fact that suddenly the joke had changed. Like I said, this pose and this dock was more than just ghost stories. It was muscle memory.

His wrist stayed inside my hand while the lake water curled underneath us, small waves knocking against the posts as Darius stared into the eyeholes.

“You done, Alvy?”

I shook my head and his eyes dropped. To my mouth. Exactly where it was hidden beneath a layer of plastic. The mask covered everything. It also made me someone else entirely. Someone daring and reckless. Someone dominating.

I pulled Darius forward by the wrist. He stumbled into me and his other hand landed on my shoulder. “Shit, Alvin.”

I shoved him, letting my anger circle me like mist. He shoved me back and I raged on him.

He fisted my hoodie and the struggle became something stupid and breathless between us. Neither really fighting. Neither stopping either.

We hit the dock with our bodies. Hard. Darius rolled and I rolled with him. His shoulder struck the boards and suddenly I was over him, one knee planted beside his hip, his fist twisted in the front of my hoodie.

He stared up into the mask and I went still. His eyes were so bright. Familiar yet foreign as hell.

The entire world narrowed down to the water, the sparkle of his eyes and his heavy breaths. My own breath was trapped hot against the inside of the plastic, and Darius’s fingers loosened and tightened again and again on me.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. If I spoke, the game was over. Maybe that was why I liked the mask. He couldn’t see me. He couldn’t see Alvin Carter, the boy he’d kissed once or the man who’d spent years wondering why that kiss hadn’t been enough to keep him from running away.

I leaned closer and Darius’s body tensed beneath me. His hand came up and caught my chest. “Wait.”

I stopped immediately. His breathing was more uneven. Mine wasn’t much better.

Darius studied the mask. Then slowly, deliberately, his fingers curled into my hoodie again and just like those years ago he pulled me closer.