Chapter 10 ~ Minho
I make bad decisions for fun, I swear
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“So what are you going to do?” Nyla asks, all but screaming in my ear as I walk up to Rafe’s tattoo shop for the second time in a week, and it feels significantly more terrifying than all the other times I have come here.
“Because I know you, Minho, you don’t let anyone tell you how to treat Bellamy, so what are you going to do? ”
“Maybe if you didn’t shout in my ear, I would be able to think,” I shout back, then remember I am crossing the street and that the familiar elderly woman beside me is giving me the nastiest look before strolling away. “Just great.”
“What?”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “I think Granny Goodness is going to be writing about my mental state in her paper later today.”
Nyla laughs, and I am sure it's one of those laughs that has her nearly falling over as she cackles in my ear. “Are you talking about Mrs Cherry?”
“Yeah.” I pause because how does she know who I am referring to? Then I remember we both had her for biology and calculus in high school. “She’s never liked me.”
“Don’t be silly, she loves everyone.”
“Uh huh.”
Silence settles between us for a singular second before Nyla is taunting me again. “Do you think he and Bellamy have ever—”
“Oh, God, please no,” I beg. “Don’t go there.”
“It is a valid question and one you should be asking.” Nyla has a point because, since when has Rafe ever cared what I say or do with or to Bellamy fucking Maddox? It wasn’t weird getting his call, but that is how I would describe it the moment he mentioned Bellamy without saying his name.
Which is ridiculous. We are all adults; he can say my stepbrother's name without me wanting to throw something at a wall—even if said stepbrother gave me the biggest blue balls I have ever had to suffer.
I don't do random hookups, so when Rafe called, I can admit I was a little horny and bothered and now this—
Maybe he is sleeping with Bellamy, who knows? It wouldn’t be the first time Satan himself got mixed up with people I liked.
First, my now ex-girlfriend, whom I don’t talk to anymore and now Rafe, whom I call almost every day. Is it weird to be this close with my dad’s best friend? Sure, but do I care? No, I won’t. I'm not going to do anything reckless.
I mean, I have done stupid shit, but I am not going to fuck my dad’s friend; that seems so attention-seeking and so not me.
“I wonder if they have ever fucked in any of the chairs in the shop,” Nyla says, cutting me off from my train of thought.
“I am hanging up now.”
“No, no, wait.” I wait for her to say what I am sure will end this call in the next second or so, and when she does, I can’t help the smile that spreads along my lips. “Ask him if he likes good boys or bad boys.”
“Bye.”
I hang up before she can stop me and stop in front of Rafe’s shop. It’s a tattoo shop, not a bloody battlefield I need to cross, or a haunted house full of clowns.
God, I hate clowns more than Bellamy, who isn’t playing fair or by any rules I imagined existed within the context of our feud.
Things between the two of us used to be more fun when I didn't know he had a crush on me.
I am not one to mess with another person's feelings like Bells is, but he brings out this competitiveness in me that I hate as much as I hate him.
I take a deep breath.
I am not here to recount all the reasons I can never trust Bellamy, can't think of him as anything but public enemy number one, followed by my dad, who I am avoiding since he found out I am back, thanks to Bellamy’s big ass mouth.
Nope.
I am going to stop thinking about him now. Rafe texted saying he’s inside; I should focus on that, not my other problems.
It’s just a tattoo shop, I remind myself, and yet my heart is thumping against my ribcage erratically, as if it knows, before I do, that one way or another I am going to be making several poor life decisions.
The bell above the door chimes as I step inside, and Rafe glances up from his workstation with those bright green eyes of his that land on me, slowly followed by one of the world's leg-weakening smiles I have ever seen.
And I remember why coming here alone has been a mistake when his eyes roam my body, then find my eyes again.
“What took you so long?” He asks.
I roll my eyes before checking the clock on the wall behind him, then smile. “Don’t start.” He’s being ridiculous. I'm two minutes behind schedule, but I am still here. Nyla may have been distracting me during those two minutes we lost.
“Start what, Minho?”
God.
He can’t say my name like that. It does weird things to my insides that I would like to ignore for as long as possible.
“You know exactly what,” I accuse.
His smile widens. “I haven’t done anything.”
“Yet.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Yet,” he repeats as if agreeing he might do something other than call me out for my tardiness.
Why am I here alone with him again?
Rafe laughs then, the sound settling somewhere annoying deep inside my stomach like fucking butterfly wings.
God, I am embarrassingly weak for this man.
I shove my hands into my hoodie's pocket. “Other than my appointment, I wanted to clear things up about what we talked about the other night,” I say, changing the subject. However, I don’t see how telling him that whatever Bellamy told him happened in class is a lie or an exaggeration, when, in truth, I let Bellamy do it.
Plain and simple, I let him because I wanted to see how far he would go in his need for me. And sure, I might like having power over his feelings, knowing he wants me, but I would have stopped him if it went too far.
But what is too far?
Fuck, I allowed it. I shouldn't have; I know that. But it felt nice to be touched by someone who truly wanted me, until my mind had to remind me that not only am I not allowed to want Bellamy, but I can’t trust him.
“Ah, yes, the other night when your stepbrother was in here telling me about how he got to touch your dick and see your newest piercing—during class time, no less,” Rafe tsks, shaking his head disapprovingly at that last part. “I have to say, Minho, that isn’t very good boy behaviour of you.”
“It's not that new,” I mumble. “And he started it.”
He chuckles, and the sound is deep. “Not the point.”
“What’s the point then?” I ask, and fuck, I hate it when he does this to me, because I know he knows where this is going.
It happened that night—Bellamy fucked my girlfriend before I told Rafe to take my annoying step-brother home because I wasn’t having him potentially puke in my car.
But right before they left, I stupidly kissed Rafe, and he hadn't stopped me until someone walked by. And from there, we were on and off until I started dating Nyla’s cousin, the infamous “surfer dude” everyone loves bringing up.
Tommy is a good guy; we both just wanted different things, and neither of us was willing to budge on our dreams, so I ended it.
Besides, we dated for all of two months, so it isn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. With Tommy out of the way, anything can happen with Rafe.
Hence why I can’t be alone with him, and I am still a virgin. I’ve never had sex with anyone. Any time I thought I would do it, I couldn't without thinking of Bellamy fucking my girlfriend or the way it felt to kiss Rafe for the first time.
And yes, I have asked Rafe to be my first, but he said no, and I know why. He will never cross that line with me due to who my dad is—his friend. I can’t fault him for that, though, but it sucks.
I watch as Rafe takes a seat at his station and settles back into the chair comfortably, utterly amused by my discomfort for what he might say or do next—a little too amused for my liking.
“So, what will it be, you going to punish me for being a mean little brother to Bellamy?” I ask, nervously tapping my foot on the ground.
“Or you gonna make me call my dad and tell him I’ll go to one of his stupid family dinners so I remember for next time not to be so harsh, just say what you want me to—”
“Come here.”
I shut my mouth when Rafe spreads his legs open and gestures for me to sit on his lap. “I don’t think we should—”
“Minho.”
“Yes?”
His smile is utterly devilish now as he pins me in place with his eyes. “Shut up and come here before I change my fucking mind.”
My legs feel like jelly as I cross the distance between us until I am standing between his legs. Everything about him is so massive—his hands, his legs, the erection I realise he is sporting.
“I had a plan, Minho,” he says, his eyes darting to where his hand reaches for mine. “You’d come here, I would do whatever tattoo you wanted this time and send you on your way.”
I swallow. “What changed?”
His eyes meet mine, then he pulls me onto his lap, and I stumble so badly into him that when I look up again, Rafe’s lips are breath away from mine.
“Bellamy is what changed things, and I know whatever happened, you are going to strike back, but don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
As if I would regret getting back at Bellamy. But it is nice knowing Rafe knows me so well to know I am not letting my evil, conniving stepbrother get away with his shit this time.
I raise a brow. “Jealous he’s about to get all my attention?”
He hums, fingers running up and down my thighs. “Surprisingly not.”
“Why not?” I ask a little too quickly, and I hate how stupid it sounds the moment it leaves my mouth.
Rafe laughs, and I take in the scent of his minty breath. “Because I think we both know I liked you first, seeing as you’ve been flirting with me since your dad remarried, and Bells only started liking you shortly after.”
Holy shit.
Did he just say what I think he just said? Rafe Kincaid said he fucking likes me. I think my brain short-circuited.
“If you’ve liked me since then, why are we running circles around each other?” It’s a genuine question I have wanted an answer to for a while, but I know one of those answers is that we would be judged by family members—or, in his case, a close friend.