Chapter 28
RAFE
I’m chickenshit. That’s what’s going on. I practically told Brent that I want this to continue after graduation, just… in different words. But I brought him to my primary suite!
How do I read his reluctance? He was hesitant to be my fake boyfriend this trip, which, I mean, okay, I get it. It’s a little weird, right?
Is it though? It seems like such a little thing.
Would I have hesitated if he’d asked? I’d like to say no.
Holding hands. A stolen chaste kiss from time to time.
Maybe a little cuddling when seated. As far as I’m concerned, platonic emotions are not a hit to sexuality.
If anything, fear of sharing emotions with your friends displays weakness in their own sexuality.
Showing people close to you that you care and making sure they understand that, as you would a sibling, parent, lover… that’s hot. That kind of confidence is my weakness.
I don’t think Brent hesitated for that reason, though. This clearly isn’t because I’m asking him to put on a gay act. What then? He didn’t want me to get the wrong idea? I thought I made it clear that it was just pretend. Like when we’re kids and we play make-believe.
That might be what’s fucking me up. I emphasized that this was no big deal. It’s fake. Just to get my mom off my back. Now that I’m feeling something real…
I’m afraid of what happens when we get back to school. I’ve done something I knew I shouldn’t do and crossed a line with someone important to me. I’m not sure my heart can go back, no matter how much I want it to. I can’t lose Brent in my life. What if that’s the road we’re heading down?
What have I done?
Brent leans over the railing to look at the room below. A smile tugs at my lips as I watch him. In so many ways, watching Brent take in the holiday magic with each new event is like watching my young nieces.
“How did they transform that tree?” he asks.
I turn my attention away from Brent to look at the tree.
Just yesterday, it was decked out in our traditional ornaments and decorations.
As was the entire room. Everything’s gotten a makeover.
No more living green garland and red bows.
It’s all decked out in black, white, and silver. Crystal and white lights.
This is New Year’s Eve.
“It is the same tree, isn’t it? How is it now white?”
I chuckle. “That spray snow stuff. You don’t want to know how many cans are used or the mess it makes to get it out of the house now.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s… gorgeous. I’m hypnotized by its elegance.”
Grinning, I knock my shoulder into his. He meets my eyes, smiling brightly. He looks down at where his hands are clasped to the railing. “Okay, what is this room, and why are there windows from the inside? I didn’t notice them every other time we’ve been in there.”
“To be honest, we think it’s an addition that wasn’t part of the original castle that our great whatever relative brought from England.
This wall,”—I tap the balcony railing, though I’m referring to the wall it’s attached to—“is actually the outside wall of the castle. There’s a lot of evidence to support that—the balconies, the wear in some places consistent with weather wear and reflective of identical wear in other parts of the castle, the windows, the door down there is exactly like other exterior doors.
There’s a rumor that this part was a small abbey that our great ancestor brought over and attached as part of the castle. ”
His eyes widen. “Seriously?”
“Again, there are elements that support that, right? Those big windows. The cross in the circular window. Some of the carvings on the walls. But yeah, I don’t know.
Grandma had a study done when she first moved in to find evidence that it came from England at all.
It has. The stone is indicative of that.
But there’s no evidence of our ancestor stealing an abbey.
But he obviously brought something over. ”
Brent shakes his head in awe. “You have such a colorful family history.”
I laugh quietly. “It may be full of lies like this, but we’ve traced enough truth back to support some things.
There’s a lot of historical validation, like records of our family’s barony in England.
That kind of thing. But stealing an abbey and turning it into a gathering room? That might be a stretch.”
There are guests trickling in now. Brent watches them.
It’s not required to dress up, but this is New Year’s Eve.
Everyone is going to be sparkling. I’m wearing a sequin vest because my mother thought it was cute.
Yes, I still let my mommy dress me from time to time.
Brent thought it was hilarious until Mom handed him a sparkling shirt.
Wasn’t quite as funny anymore, though I found the humor in it.
“Your nieces are here,” Brent says.
I shift until I can spot them. “Yep.”
“Do they stay up all night, too?”
“See that door?” I point across the room. Brent nods. “That’s the kids’ center. It’s filled with games and food, bubbly non-alcoholic drinks, supervision, and a whole lot of comfortable places to fall asleep. But yeah, they can come and go from the main room as they want.”
“You’ve been attending these parties since you were a kid?”
“I have.”
He sighs. “Every single year?”
“I’ve missed two. One, when I was ten, because I got really sick with strep two days before.
I had my tonsils out a few days after. Then again when I was seventeen.
I was on a school trip to Germany, which was really cool to see how they celebrate the new year.
No matter how exciting it was, though, I missed being here. ”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever celebrated the new year,” Brent says quietly.
I rest my hand over his. Once again, he meets my eyes. “I’m really glad you’re here. I wish I had known when we first met, Brent. I hate that you’ve been alone on campus for the last few years.”
He turns and walks into me, wrapping his arms around my middle and hugging me tightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “Being here has been healing in so many ways. It’s magical and special. I’ll never forget this.”
I squeeze him tightly, holding him there for a long time. My mind races. This isn’t the right time to maybe put another little bug in his ear that I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I want real.
But no. This isn’t about our fake dating. This is about giving Brent a family the likes of which he’s never had. He deserves this.
Taking a step back, I cup both sides of his face, making sure he’s looking me in the eye.
“I want you to promise me something. No matter what happens in life or where it takes us, you will never spend this holiday alone. If for whatever reason you’re alone, you come here.
I don’t care if you show up on the doorstep unannounced. Promise me.”
He sighs. “I don’t mind being alone.”
“No. This isn’t the same thing. Being alone by choice is fine. This hasn’t been a choice for you.”
Brent’s eyes get glassy, and he closes them. I feel his inhale. “Wow, that felt striking,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t meant to hurt you.”
He shakes his head against my hands. “No. Not you. Just… the heaviness of what you said. You’re right. I was alone because I had nowhere to go. I’ve grown used to being alone because I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t realize how much that hurt until you said it like that.”
I press my forehead to his. “Promise me,” I urge.
“I promise,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Whatever happens, you have a home here. Always. I don’t care if we get in a fight and stop speaking to each other. You have a home here, Brent.”
His hand comes up and wipes his cheek. Once more, he steps into me and hugs me fiercely.
“You’re the best thing in my life,” he whispers.
“You have no idea how much you’ve been a force for good.
This isn’t the first time you’ve not let me drown in my solitude, but I don’t think you realize how often you pull me out of it. ”
I love you.
I take a deep breath and press my lips to his neck. “I want you to promise me one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That you’ll seriously consider coming home with me after graduation.”
Brent sighs. “I promise.”
“I don’t want a promise to get me off your back. I—”
“I know, Rafe. I hate the idea of living off someone, but I’m not so stubborn that I’ll live on the streets, opposed to taking you up on your offer.
I have no desire to be homeless. I’m terrified of graduation because it’s a very dark unknown now that my aunt is in assisted living and I have no one. ”
“I’m going to tell your uncles that,” I say.
He snorts. “It’s surprisingly difficult to lean on people once your parents have decided your existence is a gross mistake.” There’s bitterness in his voice.
“I hate them,” I mutter.
Brent laughs. “Yeah, well… In some ways, I’ve lost family twice.
My parents, by their choice, and my aunt, once she went into assisted living.
I think on a subconscious level, I’m afraid to rely on other family in case they’re suddenly made unavailable to me, whether by their choice or another reason. ”
“We’re not going anywhere,” I promise.
Brent’s face turns into my neck, and he takes a deep breath. “Thank you.”
We remain right where we are for a long time. The volume of the party below rises with quiet music, clinking crystalware, the constant hum of voices, and rising laughter. The occasional child’s squeal of laughter floats up, making me smile.
Eventually, he takes a step back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make this heavy.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine.” Other words float around in my head, but I don’t say them. I feel guilty for thinking about how I feel toward him when he’s got serious shit he’s dealing with. With a sigh, I wrap my arm around his waist and kiss his temple. “We should go downstairs.”
“Definitely.”
His arm drapes around my shoulders, and together, we walk away from the balcony window toward the stairs. The further we get, the quieter the party becomes until we can’t hear it at all. A loud voice in my head wants to suggest we go back to my room and celebrate together. Alone.
But we just spoke of family, and I want Brent to have as much time being surrounded by a loving family as he can get over the next few days. Our drive back to campus looms ever closer.
There’s nothing we need to be back for, and I know my parents won’t care if we stay longer. Part of me wants to suggest that we do. I want to live in this little fantasy we’ve created for as long as we can.
I feel like I’m pushing the boundaries, though. Brent agreed to being my fake boyfriend for a set timeline, and I can’t just… rewrite the terms. Not when he’s made no indication that he’s interested in anything other than temporary.
It’s not like we haven’t already added a whole lot of shit into the fake arrangement, like sex. Tons of fucking orgasms.
As soon as we step inside, Mom is there. “Oh, Rafe. You look wonderful.” She kisses my cheek and takes a step back to look at me.
“She means well,” I mutter, pretending to be put off.
Mom beams. “Brent, sweetie. I love this color on you. It really makes your eyes shine.”
Brent smiles. “Thank you. It’s surprisingly comfortable.”
“Isn’t it? I have a dress made from the same material, and I could wear it for days.”
“Mrs. Holt.”
Mom turns to face a young woman.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt. My mother wanted me to bring this in apology for her being unable to make it, and I hit a bit of traffic, so it’s melting.”
“Oh, Penny, this is lovely.” Mom takes the ice sculpture. Such a strange gift. “Oh, Penny. This is my son, Rafe, and his boyfriend, Brent. You say hello, and I’ll take care of this. Be sure to thank your mother.”
Penny nods and faces us. Her eyes move between us as she awkwardly links her fingers.
“Hi,” I greet, offering her a smile but keeping my arm securely around Brent.
“Hello,” she says. “Sorry. The ice sculpture really threw me off. There’s a puddle in my car.” Penny huffs. “I don’t even know why my mother has a random ice sculpture hanging around. Who gives ice as a gift?”
Brent snorts and then covers his mouth with his hand, eyes widening.
Penny laughs. “Yeah, it’s funny. Anyway, I’m Penelope Black. I think I was supposed to meet you at Christmas, and then my mum said you were already in a relationship.” She rolls her eyes.
Brent’s fingers dig into my side.
“Ah. Yes. It’s nice to meet you. I apologize for the confusion.”
“Eh.” She shrugs. “I was going to find a reason not to come. You having a boyfriend worked in my favor.”
We share a smile.
“Anyway. See you around.”
“Thanks for the ice.”
Penny sighs in frustration as she disappears into the crowd. As people move about, a path opens to where Ava Delaney is standing at a table. Her eyes meet mine.
Brent must see her, too, because he turns his body so he’s pressed against me, his mouth hovering at my jaw. His hand moves down my chest, my stomach, stopping at the waist of my pants. His fingers dip inside and then slide around my waist.
I grin. Ava frowns, and her lips press together. The crowd shifts, and my eyeline of her is gone. I laugh, turning my body into Brent’s.
“Gotta say. Jealous Brent is really kind of hot.”
“I’m still sore about someone literally trying to insert themselves when it’s obvious that we’re not platonically dancing.”
Not platonically dancing. I’m not going to pretend that the words don’t somehow stir hope inside me. I know it doesn’t mean what I want it to. We were practically eating each other’s faces on the dance floor, and Ava still thought she was supposed to step in.
It was weird. Who raised her?
“Don’t worry. I see no one else but you,” I assure him, being a little more overt than I probably should be.
“Good. I’m putting it all out there. I’ve already put out for you, so she’s behind.”
I laugh.