Chapter 12
Korren
When Dex pounds on my door at an unreasonable hour on Saturday morning, I snarl, “What the fuck are you doing? I’m not holding your fucking hand on the weekend!”
I hear a hearty laugh from outside my door, so I stumble out of bed and wrench it open to glare at him.
“Did you forget about your dare?” He’s grinning at me like I’m the butt of a joke, and I want to punch his fucking mouth. At least I wasn’t sleeping shirtless. It’s been too cold for that, even though it’s the middle of summer.
Then I remember. Shit, that’s right. I dared him to take me to coffee.
“What kind of fucking café is open this early?” I growl.
“I was actually planning to take you to my friend’s bakery. It’s open from seven.”
I’m about to object that this is cheating, but then my mind catches up with me and I realize this might involve breakfast as well. My stomach gives an answering rumble.
“You’re paying for breakfast too, if that’s what you had in mind,” I say sourly.
“’Course. Well, to be honest, I’m hoping my friend treats us, but if not, it’s on me.”
“Give me a minute.”
I slam the campervan door in Dex’s face and stumble off to get dressed.
I’ve been sleeping in one of the filthy sets of clothes that I still haven’t washed, because I don’t want the new set getting wrinkled, so at least I’ve got something decent to change into.
I’m painfully conscious that I haven’t been able to shower yet.
At least I’ve got dark hair that hides some of the grease and filth, but I’m sure I reek.
I hadn’t thought about it when I gave Dex the dare, but I’m nowhere near ready to display myself somewhere as public as a café. People are going to stare at me because I’m fucking disgusting more than because of whatever Dex and I do.
But I can’t back out now.
Fuck this.
Once I’m dressed, I scrutinize my reflection in the tiny mirror in the campervan bathroom. I drag a hand through my hair to flatten it, but there’s no hiding the fact that I haven’t brushed it out properly in a while. At least my face is clean. That’ll have to do.
Dex is waiting outside with his back to the door. As soon as I’m outside, the cold air wakes me up more thoroughly, and I decide I don’t mind being up before seven after all. Not that I’ll admit that to Dex.
It’s even nicer when we get into town and the street is deserted.
There are lights on in the kitchens of a couple cafés, but all of the storefronts are dark.
Obviously Dex doesn’t want too many people seeing us together.
That’s kind of ruining the point of the challenge, but I don’t really mind.
It’s a relief not to have anyone staring at me.
Oddly enough, it feels strange not holding Dex’s hand as we walk. I’d gotten so used to it these past couple days that it feels like I’m floating alone in the sea without his hand to tether me in place.
We don’t talk much until we reach the bakery, where Dex’s friend calls out a greeting from the kitchen.
“Morning!” Dex calls back. He leads the way to the counter, where I salivate over pastry cases that are already filled with croissants and cinnamon rolls and donuts and cupcakes. “Rowan, this is Korren. Korren, Rowan. He’s my best friend from when we were kids.”
“Good to meet you,” I say, making an effort at politeness. At least Rowan isn’t looking at me like I have no right to befoul his bakery. He’s as tall as Dex, with a messy brown bun, a short sculpted beard, and a small hoop in one ear.
“The same goes to you,” Rowan says with a smile.
“We’re here for breakfast,” Dex says. “And coffee.”
I see his significant look at Rowan, who catches on at once. “Of course! My treat. But only this time, guys. I can barely keep the shelves stocked this time of year as it is.”
“Thanks, man,” Dex says. “I’ll have one of those chocolate croissants.”
“Cinnamon roll for me,” I say.
We claim our pastries and drinks—black coffee for me, vanilla latte for Dex—and make our way to the least visible table in the restaurant, which is tucked between the frosted glass portion of the front windows and a shelf with a library of mismatched mugs that you can use for takeout coffee.
The table is tiny, and I’m suddenly aware of how close Dex is to me.
“Are we gonna do this or what?” he asks.
I turn toward him, and our knees knock together under the table. I quickly shift to the side to avoid touching him unnecessarily.
“Do what?” I ask innocently, even though I was the one who came up with this stupid dare. I really hadn’t thought it through. I was just thinking about how nice it would be to get a cup of proper coffee for once, not about the public humiliation that would result.
Dex leans forward and puts both hands on the table. “Are you chickening out?”
With a dramatic sigh, I shuffle my chair closer with a screech of metal against wood. Then I lay my hands in his.
I’m surprised by how not-weird this feels. Probably because I’ve gotten used to holding hands with a guy on our way to work.
“Look in my eyes, baby,” Dex croons.
I give him an evil glare.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” Dex asks. “I’m not even halfway convinced you deserve that cabin.”
“Well, it’s not exactly easy to fake it when you keep acting like a dick.”
Dex snorts. “How about this. I’ve got something that might distract you.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sick of living in that cramped house with too many of my cousins, so I asked my uncle if I’m allowed to stay in the cabin for now. He says I can’t have it by myself, but I’m allowed to dare you to move in with me. So.”
This takes me completely by surprise. “Is that an official dare?”
Dex gives me a searching look. “It is. I dare you to come live with me in the cabin.”
I haven’t lived with anyone since I left home. I’ve dated a couple girls, but we never got to the point where our lives started to overlap in significant ways, and I guess I’m a bit scared of commitment, because I was always wary of taking that next step. Of letting someone into my personal space.
“You scared?” Dex teases.
I am. I’m fucking terrified.
“I’m not sharing a bed with you,” I snap.
“I know. You can have a mattress in the living room.”
“Fine.”
Thankfully Rowan is here with our coffees, so I’m allowed to let go of Dex’s hands and lean away from him.
Rowan keeps glancing between the two of us as he sets down our breakfast.
“So you two really aren’t dating?”
“It’s another dare, asshole,” Dex says. “So you just shut up and walk right back into that kitchen and stop watching us like a total creep.”
Rowan throws up his hands and shakes his head, smiling. Then he retreats behind the counter, where I swear he’s watching us as he arranges apple tarts on a tray.
With an effort, I turn away from him and refocus my attention on the cinnamon roll. It smells heavenly, like warm yeast and butter and cinnamon, and I wolf it down so fast I end up with icing all over my fingers. It’s the most heavenly thing I’ve eaten in months.
I’m about to duck out to the bathroom to wash my hands when I think of a better idea. I fix Dex with a piercing stare and start sucking the icing off my fingers in the most suggestive way I can manage.
He tries to match my seductive look, but soon he’s laughing. He kicks me under the table, and somehow our knees end up resting against each other.
“Stop that!” he chokes out.
I suck another finger into my mouth, not breaking my stare.
“Fuck, Korren! Go wash your hands! You’re going to kill me.”
I finally relent and disappear to the bathroom, and when I return, Dex is wiping his eyes and grinning at me with his dimples showing.
“You surprise me,” Dex says as I slide back into my chair. This time I don’t shift away when our legs end up touching under the table.
“Why?”
“I didn’t realize you had a sense of humor.”
“Asshole.”
Dex grins. “Also, I didn’t take you for a cinnamon roll kind of guy.”
“What, so you’re an expert on people’s pastry preferences now?”
Dex laughs. “No, but you like your coffee black, so—”
“Sugar in a drink is disgusting. Sugar in any other form is the best thing ever invented.”
“You’re strange.”
I take a sip of my coffee, which is just as delicious as the donut.
I used to be really particular about my coffee, only drinking fair trade French press style, which makes me sound like a complete douchebag.
But after a year of instant coffee—and I even ran out of that about a month ago, just like everything else—I’ve learned that some things in life should be treated as the blessing they are, no matter what form they come in.
Dex reaches out and takes my hand again while we nurse our drinks, and this time I just hold his gaze, wondering who will look away first. Maybe he really is better at acting than I am, because I’m almost convinced I can see genuine regard in his warm brown eyes.
And fuck me, but some part of me is so desperate for a scrap of affection from another person that I want to lap it up, even though it comes from a guy.
I’m screwed.
It’s funny, too—when I first saw Dex, I didn’t think much of him except envy that he got along so easily with the rest of the fire crew. He fit the image of a firefighter perfectly, and that was all I noticed.
Now I’m picking up on bits of softness around his blunt face. The way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. The dimples in his cheeks that rarely show themselves. The hint of stubble on his usually cleanshaven chin. If I were into guys, he’d probably be my type.
And this is a bad train of thought to follow when I’m sitting here with my hand in his, our legs touching beneath the table, staring deep into his eyes.
I blink and search for a distraction. Something that will make Dex pull away and stop looking at me with such warmth.
“You said your reputation here is trashed,” I say. “What’ve you done? I’m not about to move in with the local gang leader, am I?”
Dex gives a soft, self-conscious laugh, his hand twitching in mine. “No. Just some shit I got involved in while I was in college. I always thought of myself as a normal, decent guy, but then I ended up in this really toxic relationship with a girl who turned out to be nothing but trouble.”
“In what way?”
“I haven’t told anyone about this. So—”
“I won’t say anything. Promise.”
Dex gives me a tight smile. “She was everything I ever wanted. Gorgeous, funny, popular…” I can feel his knee bouncing under the table.
“Turns out she came from money, and her whole group of friends didn’t care much for rules.
Their parents owned half the town, so they could do whatever the fuck they wanted and no one would care.
I don’t know if they were trying to screw me, or if they honestly thought I wouldn’t get in trouble—”
“What happened?”
“They used to give me dares. Dumb shit, you know. Against the rules, but not a big deal. And I’d do it, because they made it seem like that was the only way to prove I was worthy of dating my girlfriend.
” He lowers his voice. “Then they dared me to steal a really expensive piece of equipment from the campus lab. They didn’t want me to keep it, just to hide it for a couple days before returning it somewhere really public.
Only I got caught, and I was arrested, and not a single fucking member of that group stood up for me. ”
“Shit. They sound like a great bunch of people.”
Dex drags a hand through his hair. “I know. It wasn’t until later that I realized the whole fucking relationship was toxic as hell, but at the time I was so obsessed with this girl that I wasn’t thinking straight.
It makes me wonder if something is wrong with me, or if I’m just really bad at relationships. ”
“Is that why you’ve gone for a guy this time?” I tease.
The shadow in Dex’s eyes retreats as he laughs. “’Course. That’s exactly what this is about.”
“What does everyone here know about what happened?”
“Not much. My dad paid the fines to get me out, but after that he closed my bank account and disowned me. I think people here know I’ve fucked up pretty badly, but that’s all.”
“It could’ve been much worse,” I say, thinking about my own history. At least he doesn’t have something like that tearing him apart. No one blamed me, so it’s not like I faced charges or anything, but it’s fucking killing me. I can’t seem to pull myself out of this hole I’ve ended up in.
“I guess. The worst part is that no one trusts me any longer. Hell, I don’t trust myself. If I messed up that badly once, who says I won’t do it again?”
I think about how he bought me a set of new clothes right after he’d told me he was almost as broke as I was.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Dex. You just made a mistake. That’s part of life.”
“You might be the only one who thinks that,” Dex mumbles. Then, with a visible effort, he straightens in his chair and pushes away whatever memories are haunting him. “So. You ready to fix up this cabin?”