Brett Manning, 18, is a delinquent who's super popular, super handsome and super the-captain-of-the-football-team. He has wavy, golden blond hair, chiseled features and rock hard abs. Think, Brad Pitt in Troy.

Parker Wilson, also 18, is a tech nerd who flies drones and plays games online, where he also met all his friends. They're all over thirty and known only by aliases like BigTittyOrc241 and AllDwarfsArentPedos69. He's a mildly attractive, lanky brunet who could've been likable if it wasn't for Brett.

Brett has been tormenting Parker since the fifth grade, bullying him relentlessly since he moved in next door. Parker has been beaten, shoved into lockers, robbed for his lunch money, given swirlies and most recently, Brett gave him a cake for his birthday.

Wait, really? That actually sounds sweet.

It was a urinal cake the size of a hockey puck that Brett peed on and made Parker shove in his mouth while he took pictures.

It was so humiliating. Brett ruined his life with those photos, and on his birthday, no less. Overnight, he became the joke of Jackson High. No one wants to talk to or eat lunch with piss breath or shit cakes depending on whose version of events they heard. He's been an irredeemable pariah ever since.

Brett was one-hundred percent manly-man, one-hundred percent asshole and one-hundred percent straight. He constantly two-timed girls and he'd never consider being with a guy. He's the type to call no-homo before a high-five.

That changed when he found out Parker held his life in the palm of his hands. Here's how.

One day, Brett, being the asshole he is, decided to rob Mrs. Green's house with a couple of buddies while she was vacationing in Europe. It was such a sure thing that he couldn't resist. They trashed the place and came away with thousands of dollars worth of electronics and jewelry. It was a real Ocean's Eleven, without brains or casinos.

When they were questioned by the police, they all had rock solid alibis and once Mrs. Green's insurance covered the loss, the case was as good as closed. Yup, it was as cold as Brett's stare, his veins or his black heart, take your pick. All indications looked like he was going to get off scot-free, as always. Almost all indications, except for one thing.

Parker's drone caught it all on camera.

Rather than turn Brett in right away or flood the internet with the footage—like Brett did with the urinal cake photo shoot, Parker was patient and smart. He waited for Brett to get comfortable, for him to lead the football team to the playoffs, for them to celebrate moving onto the semifinals.

Then, he sent the video to Brett's phone anonymously with instructions to meet alone, at midnight, under the street lamp in the alley behind their houses.

*****

Parker walks up to Brett with a huge trash bag as he's leaning against the bins, waiting for midnight to strike. He holds up the bag and asks, "Do you mind?"

Normally, he wouldn't dare speak to Brett like this or ever approach him in a dark alley, but taking out trash isn't suspicious and Brett is too shaken up to put on his bully hat tonight. Wordlessly, he moves out of Parker's way, even going a step further to open the lid.

Parker says, "Wow, thanks," as he chucks the bag into the bin.

Brett nods and looks at his phone as Parker is walking back toward his house. It's 11:50PM. He's early, like Parker knew he would be. The only surprise is that he's actually alone. Parker figured he would've set up an ambush.

Brett looks broken. He has too much to lose. The only weapons he's wielding are desperate blue eyes and charm. Neither will save him tonight.

Parker turns around, somehow finding the courage to face the much bigger man. An ace in the hole doesn't make this any easier. There's always the chance Brett beats him to death. Sure, he'd go to prison, but Parker wouldn't be any less dead.

Parker says, "Brett. It's me. I have the video." Short and to the point. Sometimes less is more.

"Okay?" Brett steeples his hands in front of his face and lets out a beast of a sigh, the Godzilla of exasperated sighs. "So, what do you want?"

Just as simply, he replies, "You."

Unfortunately, that's not enough.

"Me?" Brett scoffs, having bit back as much disgust as he could.

"You can be my bitch and still go to college, and have a future or you can be everyone's bitch in prison."

Brett takes slow steps toward Parker, who's matching them moving backward. He knows Brett isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and even if he was, he'd likely have to go through the first two stages of grief before bargaining (denial and anger).

Parker backs into his yard, closing the chain link fence, putting something solid in between them if only to give himself a head start. It's a false sense of security. "I have every reason to ruin you, Brett and I'll do it. Take another step and my offer is gone."

Brett takes his hands off the gate a millisecond before unlatching it and raises them up in submission. "Fine, fine. You know this isn't going to work though. What's your game plan? Did you even think this through?"

Brett is trying to handle him and it's insulting. Parker does more thinking in a day than Brett has done throughout high school, in class anyway. He folds his arms across his chest and nods. "Get on your knees or I'm leaving. We both know you're too handsome for prison."

Brett drops to his knees, clasping his hands together pleadingly. Begging is no use. Parker played out this scene a hundred times before he decided to send the video.

"I'm not out to ruin your reputation, so in school you'll be safe, mostly," Parker says, smirking, "but make no mistake, you're mine now." He points to the trash bin. "Open the bag I threw in there and take out the ziplocks. There are two of them."

Brett proceeds over to it with caution, carefully removing the lid, as if Parker somehow snuck a pack of wild dogs in there. He unties the bag and pulls out the two ziplocks. "Sandwiches?" he asks, holding the neatly trimmed and packaged entrees.

Parker smiles and nods. "I'll be making your lunches for school, but I want you to eat one now, so I'll know if I've done a good job."

Brett eyes the bags suspiciously, setting one down on top of the trash bin. "You poisoned them?" He opens the first bag, sniffing and inspecting the bread.

Parker says, "You don't know this, but I've never lied to you. The sandwiches aren't poisoned. I'll even take the first bite."

Brett hands him the sandwich over the fence. He takes a bite and hands it back. Brett's first bite is slow, but the next is much more generous. He even lets out a satisfied moan.

Parker turns up his palms. "So?"

Brett nods, holding up the sandwich, as if raising a glass, then he takes another bite.

After Brett devours it, Parker says, "I'm really glad you liked it. It'll make the next part so much easier for both of us."

Brett looks at him in confusion, so he explains. "I came in the mayo and you're going to watch me make your lunch from now on." He doesn't say, "You might even help."

Before Brett can respond, Parker turns away and leaves. There's no point in arguing, Brett will need the night for it all to sink in.

Parker holes up in his room and goes online to tell his friends about the development. He's hoping for advice to plot out his next move.