Chapter 4
RAFE
The house was a mess.
No, it was a disaster.
I paced the kitchen, grinding my teeth at the sight of dishes piled high in the sink, coated with a thick layer of dried syrup, bits of soggy nachos, sandwich crusts, and cigarette ashes.
Beer bottles were lined up like toy soldiers on the windowsill, and some yellowy liquid had created a puddle under the fridge.
Oh, and don’t get me started on the smell. It was rank.
Listen, I wasn’t a neat freak by any stretch. Ask my mom. Or my ex-boyfriend.
I only occasionally remembered to make my bed, and my clothes were piled on various surfaces in my room according to mood or color or how soon I needed to do laundry. I wasn’t a stickler for order, and until Gus, I was easygoing when it came to sharing common space.
Not anymore. I couldn’t deal with living in pure, unadulterated chaos with an irresponsible goofball who wanted to host raging parties every damn weekend.
“Mornin’.” Speak of the devil. Gus scrubbed a hand on his face as he ambled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “How’s it—oh, shit. This place is a wreck.”
“You think?” I snarled.
He wrinkled his nose in what I took as a contrite expression. “Don’t worry. I got it. But…coffee first.”
I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth. “No.”
Gus tossed a bleary-eyed glance my way as he opened the cupboard and reached for a mug. “Huh?”
I snatched the mug from his hand and held it behind my back. “You can’t have coffee until you clean the kitchen.”
“Huh?” he repeated.
“You heard me. No cleany, no coffee,” I singsonged.
Gus snickered, leaning against the counter and immediately knocking over an empty bag of chips.
“You’re funny, Rafe-man. I respect your angst, and I understand where you’re coming from ’cause wow…
this house is a fucking hazard zone. But I’m gonna handle it.
You know I will, and I’m gonna do you an extra solid and spring for dinner tonight. My treat…anything you want.”
“I don’t need you to buy me dinner. I need to not wake up to Armageddon.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know!” I snapped angrily, wagging my forefinger at the six foot-three beast. “This is…unsanitary! And I swear to God, if I find a used condom in the sofa cushions again, I’m going to lose my ever-loving shit.”
He nodded, his eyes slightly glazed as he pulled out another mug. “Dude, I gotcha. I’d be pissed too. People are fuckin’ rude. I caught some gay action happenin’ upstairs. I’m not naming names, but rimming is something you do in the privacy of your own house…and not your buddy’s bathroom.”
“Which bathroom?”
“Meh, not important. Hey, did you need a ride to the rink this morning?”
I gasped. “They had sex in my bathroom, didn’t they?”
“Rim job, baby. Hot stuff, too. They didn’t even fuckin’ close the door,” Gus reported with a laugh, helping himself to the coffee.
“You’re joking.”
Gus flashed one of those charming smiles that apparently made him ridiculously popular. “Nope, but it’s cool. I stopped them before they got to the grand finale. I think.”
“You think?”
“It’s a little foggy,” he admitted with a shrug.
I stared incredulously and for some reason, he smiled.
His eyes crinkled at the corners and his dimple creased his left cheek. Damn it, he was handsome and built like a Mack truck, but my God…I was going to take him down.
I wasn’t sure how, though.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and considered my options.
There was no way to out-gross Gus. None of the things that bothered me would rate as mildly annoying to him.
He was impervious to messes. Eating his food or hiding his things wouldn’t work either.
With his seemingly never-ending supply of money, he’d buy more of whatever he wanted and still manage to raid my stash.
And he’d turn any party I had into…this.
Unless…
I threw an anti-party.
Oooh, that was a good idea.
I pursed my lips to hide the monster smile tugging the corners of my mouth.
“I’m going to kindly ask that you clean this—as you correctly put it—hazard zone and—” I held a hand up before he could assure me it was cool, man.
“You’re going to have to do a great job at it too, ’cause I’m not living like this.
Also…I’m having a shindig here on Saturday, so don’t plan anything. ”
“A shindig?”
“Yes, a party. A gathering of like-minded dudes and dudettes.”
Gus bugged his eyes out over the rim of his coffee mug and chuckled. “Oh, yeah? That’s awesome. I’ll buy the beer. I’m abstaining myself for a while, but—”
“No, that’s okay.”
“I insist. I’ll stoke you out too. I owe you one.”
“You owe me more than one,” I grumbled under my breath. “I can handle refreshments, but I’d love for you to be there.”
He smiled, wide and guileless. “I’m in, roomie. We’ve got a game Friday night. I’ll bring my buddies by afterward to help set up—”
“No. No.” I shook my head so hard I was in danger of dislocating my neck. “Don’t trouble yourself. Just be ready to rage on Saturday.”
Gus held up a hand for a high five, grinning as I smacked my palm gingerly against his. “I’ve been thinking we should do some roommate bonding. Let me know what I can do.”
See? He was the worst! Gus even managed to ruin revenge.
Why did he have to be nice?
I focused on the yellowy liquid near the fridge and wrinkled my nose. “All I need is for you to clean this mess.”
“Already on it.” He lifted his mug. “After my java.”
My smile was tight and didn’t come close to being sincere, but Gus’s phone was going off and he was immediately distracted by a bigger name on the line.
If history served, he’d forget this conversation within the hour.
I’d have to remind him…repeatedly, and he’d undoubtedly still invite a bunch of friends over on Saturday.
Good. I kind of hoped he would.
“A yoga class?”
“No, a yoga retreat. An all-day, all-night affair with meditation, soft-spoken poetry, all-vegan appetizers and a juice bar. What do you think?” I rubbed my gloved hands together as I skated beside Celine. “That’s a rhetorical query, hon. We both know my genius is showing.”
Celine snorted, gracefully turning into a backward glide.
“It’s inspired for sure and a fun idea, but…
yoga retreats take lots of planning and money.
You’d need quality instructors. Do you have any idea how much some of them charge?
I’d estimate that their fee and the vegan bar alone would cost a thousand dollars. ”
My jaw dropped. “A thousand?”
“Yep. Who would you invite, anyway?”
I closed my eyes briefly, opening them in time to veer away from Lola and Amber, our best solo dancers on the team…after Celine, of course. “I’m still hyperventilating over the phrase ‘costs a thousand dollars.’ Don’t do that to me.”
“Sorry, Rafey, but someone has to keep it real.”
“I know and I appreciate that and—” I snapped my fingers. “What about Penny? She’s a yoga girl.”
“Pilates.”
“Same difference.”
Celine frowned. “It’s not, but she does teach yoga at the Y. I bet she’d do it if she’s free. I’ll ask her. Jackson’s a great cook. He’ll help with food if we ask real nice.”
“This already sounds amazing,” I gushed, skating on my right leg as I lifted my left in an arabesque. “I can run a smoothie bar too.”
“I love your smoothies!”
“Thanks.” We raced along the perimeter of the rink, discussing smoothie flavors. Banana blueberry spinach, carrot juice and coconut, peanut butter banana kale…“I have a hundred dollars I can put toward this venture. Is that enough?”
“I don’t know. If Penny and Jackson agree to do it pro-bono for promotion purposes…maybe.” She threaded her arm through mine. “Rafey, I applaud your ingenuity. You know I do. But I have to ask…what do you get out of this?”
“A chance to confuse and befuddle my roommate,” I replied.
“That’s it?”
“That might sound like a small reward, but I’ll take what I can get. I’m tired of being on defense. I have to insert myself. I have agency, I have rights!”
Celine chuckled, pulling out of my reach to glide forward and spin. “Oh, my God, Rafe. You’re having a vigilante moment.”
Hey, I liked the sound of that.
“I am.”
“And you can kill two birds with one stone.”
I shaved ice as I came to an abrupt stop. “What do you mean?”
“Get back at your roomie and invite your crush over to continue your kinky pinky action.”
She skated away before I could muster an intelligent comeback.
But Celine was right. I obviously had a few details to work out—namely, how to get under Gus’s skin. I wanted him up to his eyeballs in yoga and kale smoothies, my mom’s Enya soundtrack, and Jackson’s vegan seven-layer tofu dip. Even if he only lasted ten minutes, I’d take it as a win.
Especially if Eli was there.
I scanned the rink, hoping for a glimpse of my crush in the crowd of figure skaters keeping up with their postseason training. No such luck. I’d text him later to issue a personal invitation. Maybe an activity with friends would put us both at ease and make it easier to move beyond pinky sex.
Two birds, one stone. Perfect.