Chapter 6

So, maybe not screw himself. There had to be some other suitable phrase, though Daniel sought for and failed to come up with one. All the things to occur to him were all to do with mutual pleasure. His anger simmered with the uncertainty of who annoyed him more—Richard or his own self. Even to hold on to the anger tired him, and his weariness annoyed him, as did his wanting to join Richard in the pond. Some days a person knew they were fucked every which way until Sunday.

Richard. Still immobile. Still staring.

Daniel fiddled with the water bottle. Gazed down at the ground defiant, aware he behaved like a child having a temper tantrum. Quite a good collection of scratches marred his skin from fighting his way through the undergrowth. His sweat made even those small marks itch and prickle. The water would cool all his irritations. Maybe even his annoyance with Richard.