"What's that?" Race was surprised Mush managed to separate himself from Blink long enough to ask a question. Even though it was aimed at something Race did NOT want to address. "What's what?" He asked, preferring to play dumb then to acknowledge it. "That mark on your neck! It kinda looks like a burn." Race could feel his face slowly turn the color of a tomato.
He pulled his hood up over his head to hide the mark and squeaked out, "Yep. That's it! I burned myself." But it was too late. Everyone was looking at him. "Gee, Race! What'd you burn yourself on? A frying pan?" Jack asked, peering at the mark. "How'd you burn your neck? Do you need me to get some ointment or ice or a band-aid or something?" Davey, always the mother, came up next to Jack to worriedly examine it. Race could feel everyone's attention on the mark. Well, almost everyone. Spot Conlon was leaning in the corner, smirking over at the scene slowly unfolding before him.
And because Race thought it couldn't get any worse, Blink leaned as far forward as he could with Mush on his lap to get a closer look and stated, "Uhh guys. I hate to break it to you, but I think it's a hickey.
The whole room went silent, everyone looking at Race whose face was approximately the color of a firetruck at this point. Then Jack coughed. "Shit Race, who gave it to you? Was she trying to eat your neck off or something? That thing is huge!" And that broke the barrier. Everyone started babbling asking him questions about where he got it and if the girl was hot and did he get her number and when he was seeing her again. Davey, bless his soul, was awkwardly trying to give him ways to get rid of it while Mush gleefully interjected with new ideas, each sounding more painful then the rest. Race's eyes flickered over to Spot who was standing in a corner, and-THAT BASTARD- was laughing his head off. Jack, of course, noticed his gaze and turned around to see Spot almost crying he was laughing so hard. Jack looked back stunned and slightly confused.
"I don't get it. Why is Spot laughing? Does he know who it is?" Spot calmed down and looked at Jack. "Of course, I fuckin' know who it is!" He told Jack joyfully, ignoring Race's wide-eyed plead for him not to tell, as the whole room quieted back down. "They don't call me Spot for nothing." Once again, everyone turned to look at Race who had sunk to the floor and was now mumbling to himself in Italian with his head in his hands. "I'm never gonna live this down." Spot chuckled and made his way over to Race.
Looking up at him, Race was surprised when Spot "I-Hate-PDA" Conlon kissed him in front of everybody. And it wasn't just a quick, chaste kiss. No, it was long and dirty and practically sinful. Davey fainted into Jack's arms, surprised by such a lewd display. Jack frantically tried to shake him awake so that Davey could distract him from the obscenity of it all. Race was practically whimpering when they parted.
Spot grabbed Race's hand. "Now if you'll excuse us, fellas. Race promised to personally introduce me to the backseat of his Porsche." And with a wink, they were gone, leaving everyone else behind in a state of shock.