Page 37 of Caged In

He stiffens, swivelling to identify who’s touching him. Coming face to face with Levis occupying the space right behind him.

Levis is inspecting the pots, hands in his pockets, no acknowledgement whatsoever written on his smooth face.

Had Levis only bumped into him by accident?

Was I imagining it as a hand? It had been a quick motion, perhaps I’m jumping to conclusions?

Izz frowns, resuming his assigned task. He does shuffle a stepto the side, to place Levis in his line of sight. In case he hadn’t imagined it, in case it is more than another inmate brushing against him unintentionally in a cramped room. The kitchen is very small, considering how many fully-grown men are lumped in together.

He moveson to the next pot to give it his attention. He’s somewhat nervous to take his eyes off the mashed potatoes, afraid of burning his first meal. And in consequence, wrecking his chances at being given any other cooking tasks. He does not want to go back to washing dishes. One shiftis enough cleaning to last him a lifetime.

He narrows his eyes at the white mass in the next pot, his sixthsense alerting him to Levis repositioning closer.

Why is Levis moving closer?

He moves to the next pot, and sure enough, Levis follows Izz there. What is up with him today? Why is he acting so creepy? He isn’t always like this, is he?

Izz thought Levis was nice. Normal. Respectful and maybe becoming a friend. He is second guessing himself now—

No. No, Levis has always been nice. Never weird. Izz had talked to him on many occasions. He’d not sensed anything amiss, not like he did with the vomit-dragon tattoo guy. Or the bald gang members. Surely he hasn’t misjudged Levis so spectacularly?

Maybe the server is merelypassionateabout his food, checking that it’s cooked to perfection. The meals Izz has eaten so far were of great quality, and Levis does run the kitchen. Therefore the man must be doing something right, right?

So . . . why is his skin crawling at Levis’s close proximity? It feels like more thanthe kitchen boss teaching him the ropes to food prep. More than the normal level of attention.

His body tenses when a solid chest comes to rest against his back. His spine locking in place, he finds himself unable to move.

“I can protect you,” Levis whispers, the clogging warmth of his too-hot breath filling Izz’s sinuses. “Stop those other pieces of shit from coming anywhere near you. When you’re mine, you won’t have to worry about anyone.”

When I’m what? What is Levis talking about?

He is not interested in . . .belonging. . . to anyone. Is Levis on drugs or something? Why would Izz sell his soul for anything. The vibe radiating out of Levis is telling him he’s not talking about a friendship, the man is insinuating something far worse. Along the lines of selling his body for protection.

He stumblesaway from Levis. He knows his face is displaying his utter disgust with this conversation. His upper lip twisting in his distaste for Levis’s proposition.

Levis doesn’t take the hint. Instead, the man invades Izz’s personal space some more. Before he’s able to protest, Levis grabs his ass. Caging him in against the kitchen bench, its hard surface digging into his spine.

Izz panics. Eyes widening, he frantically searches the kitchen. Prayinghe’s not alone, that what is happening isn’t truly happening.

The handful of inmates scattered throughout the kitchen space—finishing their prep work—are pretending not to notice. They turn their backs or avert their eyes, blatantlyignoring what Levis is doing.

I’m all alone against this creep.

How can they do this? How can anyone turn their backs on something like this? What iswrongwith them?

“Come on, Sugar. You been flaunting it around for days. Teasing me,” Levis’s hand gropes Izz’s ass, grinding his hips into Izz, “after all I’ve done for you. I think it’s time you start reciprocating.”

After all he’s done?

What has Levis done? Given him a little extra food. Nothing that would even remotely come close to allowing the man to feel him up without his permission.

“S-seriously, back off,” Izz warns, but his voice is not as strong or forceful as he intended it to be.

Why is this happening to me? Why can’t people just leave me alone?

When he receives no reaction, he tries a different approach. Praying it will save him, “I’m trying to cook the potatoes, do you want them to burn? Back off.”

Levis lets loosea huffed laugh, stepping out of Izz’s space, “we’ll finish this after lunch. Think about my offer.”

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