Ryan wanted so badly to punch Ward right in his maddeningly perfect eyes. They stared up at him like little chips of blue ice set into Ward's narrow, angular face, unblinking and arrogant, and the only thing stopping Ryan from hauling off and swelling them shut was the way that Ward looked at him. Ward just kept right on staring at him, totally unafraid, like he already knew what Ryan was thinking and he wasn't worried about it one little bit.
That kind of weirded Ryan out. Because he knew he was stronger than Ward-way stronger, like 'captain of the football team and already had his letter of intent signed for Auburn the day he turned eighteen' stronger-but even when Ryan slammed his hands against the wall two inches from either side of Ward's head, Ward didn't even flinch. He just turned around and looked at Ryan with those freaky blue eyes of his, and said, "Yes?" And that pissed Ryan off, but it also kind of freaked him out, because Ward was this scrawny little pale guy who maybe weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet and he wasn't frightened at all.
Like, he really wasn't frightened. He wasn't faking it-Ryan had been on the other side of the line of scrimmage from a bunch of offensive linemen, he knew the difference between a guy who was trying to act tough and a guy who really thought he could take you. And Ward was staring at him without any fear in his eyes at all. Ryan didn't know what that meant, but it made him nervous about just decking him, even if he did pick a time and a place without any witnesses. Instead, he just growled out, "Stop fucking staring at me," hoping that he could intimidate that icy calm out of Ward's expression.
Ward only seemed amused. "I had my back to you," he said drily, the corner of his mouth quirking into a crooked smile. "If you don't want people staring at you, Ryan, maybe you shouldn't do things that attract attention to yourself." He still didn't seem frightened, or even upset that Ryan had cornered him in the back of the men's locker room without anybody even in shouting distance. He looked like...like he was expecting it. Like he did his make-up hours for gym class hoping Ryan would find out about it and come after him.
Ryan slammed the locker again with his open palm in irritation. Ward still didn't flinch. "That's not what I meant and you know it," he shouted, a little unnerved that Ward wasn't reacting the way Ryan expected. He just stood there, not even reaching for his clothing, watching Ryan with those piercing cold eyes of his. Just like always. "Every time I see you, you're always staring at me. Like I'm some kind of, of bug, or a slide on your nerd microscope or something. You got a beef with me? You think I'm dumb or something? If you have something to say, just go ahead and say it."
The smile faded from Ward's face, leaving an expression of quiet contemplation for a moment. When it returned, it was less amused and more coldly confident. "You want me to say something?" he said, leaning back against the lockers nonchalantly. "Okay, I'll say it. I
know."
Ryan furrowed his brow in confusion, but that seemed to be everything Ward had to say. Just that cryptic phrase and more of that icy, penetrating stare that felt like it went straight through Ryan's head.
"What do you mean 'you know?'" Ryan said, fury in his voice. "What does that mean? What do you think you know?" He knew Ward was just trying to rattle him-this was like that old movie with the kids who did the phone call and said 'I saw what you did', trying to get people with a guilty conscience to admit to something. Ryan wasn't going to fall for it. He was going to call Ward's bluff, make him tell what he thought he knew, and then maybe Ryan would shove him into one of the lockers if he didn't like the answer and see how the smug little asshole handled that-
Ward laughed. It was a short, barking laugh, the kind of laugh you let out when something surprised you. "You mean-oh, man, you mean you
don't
know?" He laughed again, his mouth curling up in that crooked smile once more as he rubbed his chin in amusement, but the smile and the laughter faded away at the sight of Ryan's expression of bewildered rage. "I guess you really don't," he said at last. "You don't have the slightest clue. That's going to make this a little bit tricky. I knew you would come to me sooner or later, but I thought you might have figured out at least some of it."
"Figured out some of what?" Ryan snapped, his muscles tensing with the desire to lash out at the slight figure in front of him. He was getting sick of Ward's smug little secrets and his creepy little stare and his fucking 'I'm better than you' attitude, and he was just about ready to knock some of it out of Ward's scrawny little body. But that chilling, focused gaze still held him back. Ward wasn't dumb, Ryan knew that much. If he wasn't afraid of a beating, he had a good reason. Ryan didn't want to find out what it was the hard way.
"Isn't it obvious? Ward asked him, cocking his head and raising an eyebrow in mock puzzlement. "I mean, why do you think you came looking for me? Because I was 'staring at you'? No, Ryan. some part of you already knows the truth." He smiled that smooth, confident grin again, the one that didn't touch his ice-cold eyes. "You need to be my slave."
Of all the things Ryan expected Ward to say, that one wasn't even on the list. "Wh-what?" he said, as much in astonishment as anger. He didn't even know what part of Ward's sentence to deny first; he wasn't gay, he had a girlfriend, and his coaches all said he was a natural leader. It was utterly fucking crazy, even crazier coming from a skinny nerd who was about five seconds from getting the crap kicked out of him by the captain of the football team. "What?" Ryan repeated again in disbelief. This had to be a joke.
But Ward didn't look like he was joking. His eyes just kept boring into Ryan with that icy stare as he said again, "You need to be my slave." He chuckled lightly. "Well, to be honest, you just need to be someone's slave. But I think I'm going to make you mine. I've been trying to make up my mind about it for a few weeks now, but now that you're right here, I think you've pretty much made my decision for me. That's the last time that's going to happen, by the way."
Ryan slammed the locker again, but it didn't have any more effect than before. "Are you trying to make a fucking joke?" he snarled, his face beet red with anger and embarrassment. "Are you asking to get your fucking ass kicked or something? I ain't no fucking faggot, dipshit, and even if I was, I sure as hell wouldn't be your fucking faggot. And even if I was gay for your fucking faggot ass, you'd be the one bending over for me. Got it?"
If Ward was bothered by the slur, he didn't let it show on his face. "Oh, Ryan," he said, his voice filled with condescending sympathy. "It's not about being gay or straight. It's about being a Master or a slave. And you're already a slave, whether you know it or not. Oh, I know how you present yourself to everyone around you. You probably fool a lot of people. But I can see right through you. Coach Mason tells everyone you're a great leader, but what you're really good at is getting the other boys to accept his authority. You're such a natural slave that you make everyone else want to submit right along with you. Isn't that right?"