A GAME MOST
DANGEROUS
Rain was bored. The tropics were boring. Why did everyone want to go to tropical islands for vacation?
He stifled a sigh as he watched his friends haggle over mugs and t-shirts and other shit they'd forget existed after being home for a week. Finishing his lychee bubble tea, he wandered over to the edge of the tourist trap flea market and looked out at the water.
Someone clapped him on the back, then slid their arm down to hook loosely around his waist. The smell of coconut and peppermint wafted over Rain, and he turned to smile half-heartedly at Whitney, who grinned back. The one good thing about boring tropical islands was that Whitney looked good in the sunshine. It brought out his freckles and put some color in his pasty skin. "Stop pouting, Rain. I promise we'll do something interesting soon. You didn't have to come, you know. My sister and her lot were going up into the mountains; you could have gone with them."
And miss the chance to share a hotel room with Whitney and further torture himself pining and wishing and never actually finding the nerve to say something? Why would he choose a nice, relaxing vacation over being bored and stressed at the same time?
Because freckles and swimsuits.
He sighed and dropped his own arm over Whitney's shoulders. "Why would I go with your sister when I have the perfect opportunity to drown you?"
"Haha," Whitney said lightly. "Still bitter I whooped your ass at volleyball last night?"
Rain scoffed, but before he could reply, someone shouted for them.
Whitney practically started bouncing with excitement. "Come on! Boat's ready."
"What boat?" That sounded interesting, at least. Water was always a good thing, even if he preferred a nice, chilly mountain lake to nasty-tasting saltwater.
He trailed after Whitney onto the overblown yacht Jefferson had probably been responsible for renting—or maybe even owned, who knew with Jefferson's ridiculous family—then headed toward the front where the wind and the sea spray were greatest.
Whitney's soft chuckle came from behind him a while later, and Rain turned to see him leaning against the railing, beautiful and kissable and god he wanted to try, but he'd rather be stuck on an island the rest of his life than get told thanks, but no by the most important person in his life. "Look at you, like a kid on Christmas. Sometimes I think you're a dog, not—"
"Check it out!" Brandon interjected, rushing up into their space, smelling like tequila and cheap perfume. Rain wrinkled his nose but smiled as Brandon shoved at both of them, forcing them to turn around. "It's the island, dudes!"
"What island?" Rain asked. He stared at the island in question, but it looked exactly like all the others they'd been on or near the past week. Well, it had more jungle to it—hard to see anything but the jungle, in fact. "Doesn't look terribly special to me."
Brandon snorted and gave him a shove. "Yeah, we all know you only have eyes for one special ."
"Yeah, Rain and his precious comic book collection," Whitney said, staring at the island while Rain glared death at a smirking Brandon.
"Tell me about the stupid island before I pitch you overboard," Rain said.
Lighting up as they came back to his topic du jour, Brandon shoved his glasses up his nose and said, "It's called Ship-Trap Island because it's got a long history of fucking over ships, but like a hundred years ago, this crazy dude lived there, his name was General Zaroff—"
"I don't think 'General' is a name—"
"Shut up," Brandon replied cheerfully, jabbing Rain in the stomach. "Anyway, smartass, Zaroff used to kidnap the sailors that washed up on shore and hunt them."
"Hunt them? I don't think it's called hunting when it's people killing other people," Rain replied. "That aside, is it really hunting if you're just chasing them around what amounts to a cage?"
Brandon shrugged. "Don't think it mattered to him, dude. They found like two hundred mounted human heads in
DANGEROUS
Rain was bored. The tropics were boring. Why did everyone want to go to tropical islands for vacation?
He stifled a sigh as he watched his friends haggle over mugs and t-shirts and other shit they'd forget existed after being home for a week. Finishing his lychee bubble tea, he wandered over to the edge of the tourist trap flea market and looked out at the water.
Someone clapped him on the back, then slid their arm down to hook loosely around his waist. The smell of coconut and peppermint wafted over Rain, and he turned to smile half-heartedly at Whitney, who grinned back. The one good thing about boring tropical islands was that Whitney looked good in the sunshine. It brought out his freckles and put some color in his pasty skin. "Stop pouting, Rain. I promise we'll do something interesting soon. You didn't have to come, you know. My sister and her lot were going up into the mountains; you could have gone with them."
And miss the chance to share a hotel room with Whitney and further torture himself pining and wishing and never actually finding the nerve to say something? Why would he choose a nice, relaxing vacation over being bored and stressed at the same time?
Because freckles and swimsuits.
He sighed and dropped his own arm over Whitney's shoulders. "Why would I go with your sister when I have the perfect opportunity to drown you?"
"Haha," Whitney said lightly. "Still bitter I whooped your ass at volleyball last night?"
Rain scoffed, but before he could reply, someone shouted for them.
Whitney practically started bouncing with excitement. "Come on! Boat's ready."
"What boat?" That sounded interesting, at least. Water was always a good thing, even if he preferred a nice, chilly mountain lake to nasty-tasting saltwater.
He trailed after Whitney onto the overblown yacht Jefferson had probably been responsible for renting—or maybe even owned, who knew with Jefferson's ridiculous family—then headed toward the front where the wind and the sea spray were greatest.
Whitney's soft chuckle came from behind him a while later, and Rain turned to see him leaning against the railing, beautiful and kissable and god he wanted to try, but he'd rather be stuck on an island the rest of his life than get told thanks, but no by the most important person in his life. "Look at you, like a kid on Christmas. Sometimes I think you're a dog, not—"
"Check it out!" Brandon interjected, rushing up into their space, smelling like tequila and cheap perfume. Rain wrinkled his nose but smiled as Brandon shoved at both of them, forcing them to turn around. "It's the island, dudes!"
"What island?" Rain asked. He stared at the island in question, but it looked exactly like all the others they'd been on or near the past week. Well, it had more jungle to it—hard to see anything but the jungle, in fact. "Doesn't look terribly special to me."
Brandon snorted and gave him a shove. "Yeah, we all know you only have eyes for one special ."
"Yeah, Rain and his precious comic book collection," Whitney said, staring at the island while Rain glared death at a smirking Brandon.
"Tell me about the stupid island before I pitch you overboard," Rain said.
Lighting up as they came back to his topic du jour, Brandon shoved his glasses up his nose and said, "It's called Ship-Trap Island because it's got a long history of fucking over ships, but like a hundred years ago, this crazy dude lived there, his name was General Zaroff—"
"I don't think 'General' is a name—"
"Shut up," Brandon replied cheerfully, jabbing Rain in the stomach. "Anyway, smartass, Zaroff used to kidnap the sailors that washed up on shore and hunt them."
"Hunt them? I don't think it's called hunting when it's people killing other people," Rain replied. "That aside, is it really hunting if you're just chasing them around what amounts to a cage?"
Brandon shrugged. "Don't think it mattered to him, dude. They found like two hundred mounted human heads in
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