Prologue

I don"t like this.

Every time the fire crackles, or someone steps on a stick behind me, I flinch. I got tired of people giving me looks whenever I told them to keep their voices down, so I stopped. I need to find a way to break away and sneak back to my cabin, but he"s here. Mom told me to stick with Noah because it's my first summer at camp. Noah"s been coming here since he was eleven and is friends with everyone. But not me, I don"t fit in. I don"t like parties; I don"t like loud noises or people touching me, and I definitely don"t enjoy breaking the rules. I told him this, multiple times, and he still dragged me here with him. It's to punish me. He's made it very clear he doesn't like me, and doesn't appreciate that I've been following him around like a lost puppy the past couple weeks.

It's not my fault that my grandfather died and I had to move in with them. It's not my fault our parents make him take me everywhere, even though I'd rather stay home. It's not my fault we have to share a room. I don"t like it either.

I think he"s regretting bringing me tonight. All I"ve done is annoy him about leaving, but I"m terrified the camp counselors are going to bust us. If we get in trouble, they"ll call our parents, and we"ll be sent home early. We"ll be punished. Then I probably won"t get to play soccer anymore, which is something that I do like, a lot, much to Noah's dismay. Because somehow me being good at soccer is a personal affront.

Someone throws something into the campfire, and it surges outward. The heat of the flames lick at my face and I recoil. It feels ominous, like something bad is about to happen. In my haste to escape being singed, I fall off the log I"m sitting on.

Several people laugh, but I don"t pay attention to them. My heart is beating too fast, too hard, too loudly. If the camp counselors can"t hear the laughter and music from the party, they"ll surely hear how loud my heart is beating.

"You alright, bro?"

Noah looks down at me, smirking, his dark hair falling forward around his face. Is he really allowed to keep it so long? It makes him look…pretty. Soft. Grandfather would never allow it. I"ve had a buzz cut my entire life. Sharp. Tight. Masculine. It"s long for me now, sticking up on top when it"s not wet. It"s hard to keep neat.

"You're staring again," he mutters through gritted teeth.

I look away and shake off the hand he's offered to me, getting to my feet instead of sitting back down on the log. He shrugs and empties a bag of Skittles into his mouth. I"m about to make excuses and escape this god-forsaken party, when a pretty blonde girl wearing too much lip gloss squeals and runs up to us. I recognize her. Her name is Maci, and she"s been trying to get Noah"s attention all night. He seems oblivious, but I think he's pretending. It's a game he plays with all his friends, and they fall for it, falling all over themselves for his attention.

I'm trying not to be one of his sycophants.

"Oh. My. God. Noah! You won"t believe what we"re playing," Maci says, and grabs his arm. He lets her pull him away, and I let out a relieved sigh.

Before I can take a step back towards the cabins, Noah grabs a fist full of my sleeve and pulls me along with him. I try to resist, but putting up too much of a fight would draw more attention, and I don"t want that. I"ll find another opportunity.

Maci drags us around the fire to the other side of the clearing. It"s not as hot over here, but I still have that bad feeling twisting in the pit of my stomach. There"s a small group of people sitting around an old wooden picnic table. A curvy redheaded girl is sitting on top of it, her feet dangling off the edge. A sly grin curves her lips when she sees Maci and Noah. She doesn"t seem to notice me, but I"m okay with that. It'll be easier to slip away once Noah is distracted.

"What"s the game?" Noah asks.

"Well, we were playing spin the bottle," Maci explains, and my face flushes.

I"ve heard of that game. I can hear my grandfather"s voice in the back of my mind, telling me what happens to people who play "the devil"s games." I look at Maci and imagine her pregnant and alone, the devil's hand on her shoulder. Feeling like I need to be responsible for my new stepbrother, I grab his shoulder to pull him away, but freeze when I hear the next words. "…but the bottle kept landing on other girls and I was tired of spinning. So I challenged Mary to play gay chicken!"

A shocked choke escapes me and is heard over everyone"s laughter, drawing their attention to me. My hand is still on Noah"s shoulder, and I"m sure I look like a deer in headlights with everyone"s attention bearing down on me.

Noah rolls his eyes and shrugs away from my hand, clearly annoyed that I"m being a "party pooper." Again. "What? Never heard of gay chicken?" he sneers.

"No," I snap, my mind scrambling to put the words together and make an educated guess over what that even is. "That"s not a game. That"s just wrong." It"s certainly not a game that I would ever engage in. Just standing near these people probably has grandfather rolling in his grave.

"Don"t be homophobic," Maci says, putting her hands on her hips. She stares at me with thinly veiled disdain for a moment before turning back to Noah. "Anyway, how much do you want to watch me make out with Mary?"

"Depends," Noah says cooly. "How far you gonna let it go? You gonna lick her pussy?"

If Maci answers, I don"t hear it. I must have made another involuntary noise, because Noah whips his head around. To say I"m shocked to hear language like that is an understatement. It"s another reminder of how different things are outside my grandfather"s estate. I"m quickly learning that most everything is different. Even just being at an unsupervised co-ed party is unheard of.

The look in Noah's eye, the mischievous glint that borders on evil, can't mean anything good for me. I take several slow steps backwards. It's time for me to go.

"You know what," he says, loudly enough for everyone around us to hear, "I think Lane wants to play."

"I most certainly do not," I say firmly. Noah takes a step closer for every step back I take, until I almost run into the girl sitting on the picnic table. She scrambles away and joins the circle of people around us.

"What"s wrong, bro? Chicken?"

Yes.

"No. It"s a s-stupid game."

And it"s wrong, I repeat internally, not wanting to be called homophobic again. Although, maybe I am. I don"t know. The only thing I"ve ever heard about homosexuality is that it"s wrong, that it"s the worst kind of sin. That young people without a good head on their shoulders are led into temptation by the devil, and acting on such urges would incur the wrath of God and the church and everyone who is good and holy. That the devil sends distractions and temptations to everyone in different forms, but it"s up to us to fight against evil and avoid eternal damnation by denying sins of the flesh.

What I didn"t know is how prevalent the sins were in the outside world. Soda and junk food, video games, co-eds mingling… it"s all an impossible obstacle course. I"ve done the best I can to manage since my mom picked me up and drove me away from my childhood home. But it feels like every step is another towards something worse, and here I am, faced with the worst sin of them all.

So, yes, I"m chicken. I'm terrified. But I can"t let them know that. I can't let him know.

Noah does know, though. He can read me like a book, no matter how much I try to hide myself from him. "You know what I think? I think maybe you"re chicken because you have a little secret of your own."

I can feel the blood leave my face. "N-no I don"t."

"Prove it then," he says, pouncing on my vulnerability. "First one to back down has to wear a sign that says, ‘I like dick' at the picnic tomorrow."

In front of everyone? Everyone will think… Our parents will be there!

Don"t do this, I beg with my eyes. For the briefest of seconds, his eyes flash, and I think I see a spark of something—kindness, or maybe pity. I don"t like pity, but in this situation, I"ll take it.

"That"s what it is, isn"t it?" Noah says, so quietly that even I can barely hear him. "That's why you're always watching me, always tagging along?"

"W-what?" I whisper, trying to hold my breath so I'm not sharing air with him. He's too close.

"Just admit you like cock and I'll back off."

"N-no!" I force out, anger sending a flush of indignation across my neck and face. On top of his cruelty, his crude words fluster me.

He hums thoughtfully, menacingly. "I think thou doth protest too much." I can feel his breath on my face, and when I turn my cheek, he laughs.

"So what"s it gonna be, church boy?" he asks loudly, making sure everyone can hear.

My mind spins. If I do it, I have to kiss him, which is gay. But if I don"t, will everyone think I"m gay? How does this make any sense? Which is worse?

This is stupid. I bet he"s just bluffing anyway. If I act like I"m not afraid, he"ll walk away from this stupid game.

I push against his chest, he steps back, surprised. I know he thinks I"m a snob, and a sheltered Jesus freak weirdo. Sure, I"m a little socially awkward.I'm a fish out of water, and I've struggled to acclimate to a new environment. But I"m not dumb and I"m not weak.

Standing up to my full height, which is over an inch taller than him, I close in on his personal space for once and look down at him like the nuisance he is. I hit a growth spurt this past fall, and I use every bit of my size to try to intimidate him. It"s only been a month since I left my home, and I"ve done everything I can to be nice. But he"s crossed the line one too many times.

"You won"t do it," I growl under my breath.

"Try me," Noah says, squaring up. The confidence pouring off him rivals his hatred of me, and I almost falter.

"Dude, you are not going to make out with your brother," Noah's obnoxious friend Miah snorts with laughter.

"This is so cringe," some girl I don't know says.

"Stepbrothers," Maci retorts, and although I know she's only defending Noah, not me, I'm still thankful. "They basically met last month."

"Ooh, scandalous," another girl chimes in.

The commentary continues, but Noah and I ignore them all, staring each other down with equal parts animosity and false bravado. Well, false on my account. I"m scared shitless. But I can"t back down, can"t let him win. Can"t let them think…

Noah"s smirk grows uncomfortably close until I can taste his breath. It"s fruity from the candy he ate earlier, and I"m curious if his mouth will taste sweet. Stiffening, I quickly push that thought far away, instead wondering what my breath tastes like. Hopefully, like the mouthwash I used after dinner.

No. Wait. Why do I care what my breath tastes like? I should be wishing I"d chewed a raw onion before I came out here, maybe that would deter him from this embarrassing display.

Don"t do it. Don"t do it. Don"t do it.

He does it.

Oh no.

His lips press against mine. They"re warm and pillowy. Softer than I thought, despite being pressed so firmly against mine. I"m frozen, eyes open so wide the dry air stings.

I don"t dare move. Or breathe. Or think about anything other than remaining perfectly still.

A flash of memory sparks behind my eyes. Of an old friend, his eyes teary and afraid. He was older than me, and should have known better than to cry. But he didn't have a grandfather like mine to teach him. That's why he was with us, after all.

I'd never asked what made him do it. I never considered that maybe it happened against his will. If my grandfather were here to catch me, would he understand? No. He wouldn't. Just like he didn't understand my friendship with Chris.

"I was just being kind."

"Christian doesn"t need your kindness, Isaiah. He needs God. Your destiny is to be His messenger."

Noah"s lips move, and I startle out of the memory. His low, deep chuckle sends a shiver of dread through me. No, it"s worse than dread.

So much worse.

"You"re a shitty kisser," he murmurs against my lips.

Because it"s my first kiss. Because I"m terrified.

"Because I don"t want to do this," I grit out, my entire body stiff with the effort to not back away, even though I desperately want to run away from this situation. From him.

"Then concede."

I can"t. He'll know.

"Hell no."

"Well then, open up for me, brother. Suck on my tongue the way you want to suck on my big?—"

"You"d like that, wouldn"t you?" I grit out, shifting to put some space between us before he can feel the evidence of how nervous his words are making me.

His eyes flick down, and he lowers his voice. "Seems like you would."

"That doesn"t mean anything," I hiss. I hope the warning tone in my hushed voice is enough to keep him from saying anything loud enough for the people around us to hear.

We"re teenage boys, this can"t be outside the realm of normal. Someone"s touching me, kissing me, for the first time. Anyone would react. My eyes glance down. It"s harder to make out through his black jeans than my khakis, but I"m pretty sure…

Before I can point it out, his lips are on mine again. It surprises me, and I gasp. Noah takes advantage of the slight opening of my mouth and slips his tongue inside. The tip of his tongue grazes mine, and the light touch sends a jolt of lightning right to my crotch. I swear I hear a groan, but it"s quickly drowned out by the funny choking sound I make as my body revolts. It takes everything in me not to double over and moan. To not react to the wave of pleasure that cramps my stomach and leaves the inside of my boxers wet.

God, no. Please. Help me.

Noah"s breath hitches, and I know he knows what just happened.

No, no, no. I don"t know what to do. I don"t know how to make this go away. Too many thoughts and feelings and sensations are tearing through me. The air surrounding us is vibrating. The light from the fire and at least one cell phone camera are blinding me. The voices of the others are both too loud and muffled. I can't make out any of what's being said, but I hear them loud and clear, coming together in a discordant buzz that fills the space between my ears.

I just need to get away. Away from Noah. Away from this clearing, where the weight of everyone"s stares is making my skin itch. Away from myself if I could manage it.

I do the only thing I can think to do in the moment, and turn it around on Noah.

"Get your boner off me, y-you pervert!" I yell, loud enough for everyone to hear, and I shove him.

Noah's bottom hits the ground hard enough that he releases a huff. Before he can say or do anything to make this worse, I spin on my heel and storm back to the cabins. On my way past, my feet kick up sand and dust, making the flames of the campfire sputter and flare. I feel the heat against my back, like the pits of hell are jumping out to welcome me.