Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
Calliope
I step into my apartment and close the door, leaning heavily against it. My head tips back, resting against the hollow wood, and I sigh.
What in the hell possessed me to climb Rafe and have sex with him?
Sure, I could reason that it’s been an emotional time for both of us since he got back—him with his dad, and me, well...being conflicted about him being back in my life.
I could say that I was addled by the cold dunk in Podden’s pond and was overcome with a fit of the sillies. I’ve always been slightly impetuous.
Or maybe...just maybe...there’s something still there between us that can’t be reasoned or explained.
I’m not going to lie. It helped to hear Rafe’s explanation of what happened back then.
I mean, it was a stupid explanation. About as dumb as a man can get, making decisions for his woman without any type of discussion. But there is something to be said for the fact that we were young—both barely eighteen. Even though it was entirely demeaning for him to make that decision on his own, I can’t deny that it came from a place of love.
He’d said he was just as devastated by his decision, but the real question remains...can I believe it?
Another sigh, and I push away from the door. I need a shower and a cup of hot tea to think on this further.
I move through my small but entirely cozy apartment that I’ve lovingly decorated and filled over the years with homey items that make it uniquely my own. Soft alpaca pillows on my couch, a goofy painting of a cow wearing a red toboggan on his head over my mantel, and Yankee candles in every room, ready to lend mood-enhancing scents whenever I want.
My shower is delightful and long, and I wash my hair three times to make sure it’s free of pond scum. I shave my legs, horrified they were slightly stubbly while having sex with Rafe, but also figuring he’s felt my stubbly legs before. He used to tease me about it if I forgot to shave. I dry my hair, taking the time to blow it out, which means it will be styled perfectly tomorrow after I sleep on it. My thick hair always looks best on day two after a good shampoo. I slather lotion on my body, dress in a pair of comfy yoga pants and an off-the-shoulder T-shirt that’s so well worn it’s transparent in some spots, and move to the kitchen to make some strawberry hibiscus tea.
With steaming cup in hand and a few shortbread cookies on a paper towel to accompany it, I settle onto the couch to fire up my Kindle. Maybe getting immersed in a good book will help take my mind off my problems.
Mainly, how a gorgeous hockey star rocked my world a bit earlier, and how I don’t even know how to deal with it.
I flip through my to-be-read list, purposely staying away from romances. I don’t want anything to potentially make me swoon with possibility.
A knock on my apartment door startles me, but I swing my legs off my couch, figuring it’s probably Mrs. Filmore from next door, bringing over some new baked goods recipe she’s tried out. Her husband died last year, and she moved into the apartment next to mine, wanting to downsize and be closer to her daughter and grandkids, who actually live not too far from my parents’ house.
I swing open the door, eager to see Mrs. Filmore because she’s an excellent baker, but am stunned stupid when I see Rafe standing there with two grocery bags in hand.
I left him at his parents’ house not more than an hour and a half ago. There was no kiss goodbye, only a promise to call me later. I didn’t know what to—or if I should—read into that. The kiss would have implied some lingering affection; the lack of implying the sex was a one-time-only thing, and perhaps a mistake. Yet the promise to call spoke to wanting to see me again. Or maybe we’d just go back to being tentative friends.
Ugh. So confusing. In the moment, the only thing I can think to say is, “What are you doing here?”
“I missed you, too,” he replies with a sly grin, pushing his way into my apartment.
“Why don’t you come on in?” I mutter sarcastically and close the door, noting how good he smells as he passes me. “But, seriously...why are you here?”
Rafe takes a moment to survey my small apartment and then moves into the kitchen. He holds up the grocery bags. “I thought we could hang. I brought all the makings for tacos, and we can watch movies or something. Really great apartment, by the way. It’s totally you.”
I pad across the small living area and rest my forearms on the counter that separates it from the kitchen. He starts unloading the bags—ground beef, lettuce, tomatoes, a six-pack of beer.
“Dad’s sleeping, and Mom’s doing some spring cleaning,” he explains as he moves to put the items in my fridge. “She shooed me out of the house, and I thought we could hang.”
“Hang?” I ask skeptically. What does that even mean?
And then it dawns on me.
“Oh,” I drawl in amusement. “You want sex again?”
Rafe pops straight up, looking at me over the refrigerator door, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You offering?”
“Um,” I reply, unsure of myself.
He grins at me. “As much as you totally rocked my world today at the pond, Poppy, I really just thought we could hang out. Get to know each other again.”
My eyebrows draw inward, and I’m more confused now than ever. I rocked his world? Really?
Why I flush with pride is beyond me, but what makes a girl feel good is what makes a girl feel good.
Rafe shuts the fridge and moves around the kitchen counter to me. He takes my hand in his, covers it with his other, and brings them to his chest, his expression somber. “I know I can’t possibly hope for you to understand what I did to you eight years ago, and I know it’s likely a lot of wishful thinking that you could forgive me completely. But right now, we reconnected, and I want to see where this goes. Today with you has been the best day since I found out about my dad. I guess I just want more of it.”
I’m drowning in his eyes and in his words. He’s saying all the right things, and yet I can’t let go of the feeling that drowning equals danger. He hurt me so badly before, and I know how easy it would be to fall for him again. I also know how quickly he could break my heart once more.
“You said you still care for me.” He references the conversation we had at the pond while sitting in her vehicle. And I realize I do. I really do. I meant that.
“I’m scared, Rafe,” I finally admit to him. “I don’t think you’ll ever understand what you did to me by leaving me behind without any explanation. Yes, you crushed me, but you also killed my self-esteem because I didn’t know what I did wrong.”
“You did nothing wrong,” he assures me.
I nod. “Yes, you said that, and I believe you. But that doesn’t negate all the work I had to do to build myself back up. I’m never going to put myself in a position again to be hurt like that. And, well...if you did it to me once, you could do it again.”
Rafe’s face crumples, not because I’m denying him something but because he feels like shit. I know him so well. I know when he feels awful about something, and I can tell he truly does. Making him feel bad wasn’t my intent, but it’s a bit of a balm to me right now that I think maybe he at least understands.
“But…” I continue because while he scares the shit out of me with the potential for more heartbreak, I can’t deny that I’m happy to have him back in my life. I may have rocked his world at the pond today, but he turned mine upside down and inside out. I’m feeling all kinds of trampy right now that I want him again. “Maybe we can put some boundaries in place to help me feel a bit safer with you.”
Rafe frowns, the implication heavy that he’s a danger to me. “Like what?”
“We make it about sex only,” I say with a slight shrug.
“Sex only, huh?”
“Well, yeah. I mean...that was pretty great at the pond, right? And it took your mind off your troubles. And I totally enjoyed the hell out of it, so we can have a sex-only relationship.”
Rafe takes a step back and withdraws his hand from mine. “Yeah...that’s not going to work for me.”
I blink at him in surprise. “Why ever not?”
He scrubs a hand over his face in frustration and sighs. “Because I need your friendship, too, Poppy. You’ve helped me so much already with dealing with my dad. I mean, if I have to choose between friendship and sex, I would choose…and I feel like a total girl saying this, the friendship.”
My lips quirk upward as my head tilts. “Well, of course, we can be friends, too. You know I love your dad, and I’m always going to be here to support him, you, and your mother. You have that.”
Rafe’s expression turns contemplative for a moment, his eyes shadowing skeptically. “So, let me get this straight... We’re friends again, and we can have no-strings sex?”
“Friends with benefits,” I reply with a brilliant smile. “It’s a win-win situation for us both.”
Rafe chuckles and shakes his head. He peers down at me, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. Instead, he pivots to walk back into the kitchen. “You’re a strange one, Calliope Ramirez. I guess it’s why I adore you so much.”
“You can’t say things like that,” I point out as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of beer.
“Oh, right,” he drawls with a sly look. “That might imply something deeper than just friends with benefits.”
“Exactly,” I reply pertly, accepting the beer he holds out to me. I twist the cap and give him an appraising look. “Want to have sex now or later?”
“Why now, of course,” he replies seriously, setting his bottle of beer down on the counter. “Here? Bedroom? Couch? Floor? So many choices.”
I giggle and set my beer down, too. “Let’s start with the bedroom.”