Chapter 10
GUS
The ice pack on my knee was slushy, my head hurt, and the annoying insurance commercial with tear-jerker Hallmark aspirations wasn’t helping. I sat up slowly, groaning as I reached for the remote. Damn, I was tired.
I needed to get off my ass, refreeze the ice pack, and take two more Advil. Stat.
My aching body and buzzing brain weren’t going to magically get better lying here like a bump on a log, pretending I wasn’t waiting for Rafe to get his ass home. Christ, he’d been gone for hours. I’d thought it was a simple dinner date. You’d eat, you’d chat, you’d say adios, and that was that.
Okay, yeah…I wasn’t a moron. There was a chance Rafe wouldn’t come home tonight at all.
Or worse…he’d bring Eli here, and I’d be tortured with the soundtrack of sex noises echoing off the walls.
That was assuming they were loud. Our bedrooms were on opposites ends of the hall, and we didn’t share a wall, and— Wow. Why do I care?
I should have been out with my friends, celebrating our win against Granville.
I could have done the soda water and lime trick, and no one would have been the wiser.
Again. None of them knew I was three weeks sober.
No one knew. It wasn’t something I needed to share, but sitting in the dark and wishing I’d have made more of an impact in tonight’s game wasn’t helpful either.
The win was all that mattered. I knew that.
Just as I knew that Rafe’s date was none of my fucking business. In fact, it was low-key psycho that I couldn’t stop thinking about him and wondering if he’d been purposely dodging me.
I’d thought we’d started to connect, and I genuinely looked forward to banter over coffee.
And I’d sort of hoped I could convince him to go to the new wholesale warehouse that had opened recently in Havenhurst. We could stock up on eggs, frozen waffles, and dino chicken nuggets, and he could tell me I was an overgrown kid and I’d tell him he reminded me of my grumpy Uncle Sam.
And since when did a few hours with Rafe sound better than hanging out with my friends?
I had a theory that this was all tied to sobriety. Like…maybe it was easier to be with someone who called me on my shit than it was to pretend I was a-okay with people I didn’t want to disappoint.
Not that I wasn’t okay.
I was fine.
Really. I was—
The sound of the lock turning pulled me back to reality.
Fuck. Finally.
I struck a casual pose on the sofa, feet up, my eyes glued to the sports highlights on the television. I was so still, Rafe probably thought I was half-asleep. He shot a quick glance into the family room on his way to the kitchen. No “Hello,” no “Why are your feet on the couch?” Nothing.
I sat up, frowning as Rafe poured water into a glass, swished it around his mouth, and spit into the sink.
“Dude. Are you okay?”
He whirled to face me, his hand on his heart. “You scared me. I thought you were passed out.”
The phraseology stung. He’d witnessed me “passed out” plenty of times, though.
“No, just watching NHL highlights. How’d it go tonight?”
“Huh?”
I cocked my head as I stood and flashed a wry grin that felt fake as hell. “The date. Weren’t you out with—”
“It was fine.” Rafe filled his glass again and repeated his rinse and spit action.
“What’s wrong? Did you eat something weird?”
“No, the food was great.” He swiped his forearm across his mouth and wrinkled his nose. “And the bread was sublime. Warm with salty butter and…delicious.”
“Love me some warm bread,” I commented, snatching his glass from under the faucet before he could refill it. “So what’s up? Why are you gargling?”
Rafe huffed. “Gargling is a bathroom activity. I have manners and standards and…”
I waited for him to finish his sentence, but he seemed preoccupied, his gaze wandering all over me.
“Yeah, well…my mom is Ms. Manners, and I guarantee she’d smack me upside the head if I spit in the kitchen sink.”
“Your mom is Ms. Manners,” he repeated incredulously.
“I guess Mrs. fits better, and why do you look so surprised?”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. It was”—Rafe shrugged as he leaned heavily against the counter—“an odd night.”
My senses went on high alert. “What did Eli do? Did he make you uncomfortable? Did he force you to do something you didn’t want to do? Did he—”
“No! Nothing like that. It was just…”
“Just…what?” I prodded.
“We kissed and…”
“You’re killin’ me, Smalls. You kissed, and Eli slipped you a roofie or tried to get you to take drugs or—”
“Oh, my God, no. Nothing bad happened. He was a perfect gentleman.”
I furrowed my brow in confusion mixed with a whole lot of angst I wasn’t prepared to unpack. I should have been glad for him, instead of mildly bummed I didn’t have an excuse to punch someone. If I were being totally honest, I’d hoped the evening had been a bust. And that made no sense.
I scrubbed my hand over my scruffy jaw, studying Rafe for clues. I lingered a smidge too long on his slim hips and the snug fit of his jeans.
“Then what’s with the water?” I set the glass on the counter. “And don’t say nothing. You’re kind of freaking me out, Rafey. Do I need to kick his ass or not? ’Cause I will. Not everyone’s definition of inappropriate is the same. Don’t make exceptions based on what you—”
“Stop, Gus. He didn’t commit a crime, for fuck’s sake. It was just a bad kiss.”
“A bad kiss?” I repeated.
“Terrible.”
Scratching my nape, I eyed him with a dubious once-over. “How could a kiss be that bad?”
“Sloppy, too much tongue, too handsy, and no spark whatsoever,” Rafe reported, gnawing his lower lip. “I sound like a jerk. Don’t tell anyone I critiqued my date’s kissing skills. This stays between us.”
“Yeah, yeah. You act like I have a big mouth or something.”
“You do have a big mouth,” he countered without heat.
“And I know how to use it. Not to brag, but I’m an excellent kisser. Five stars, top shelf, VIP.”
“Says who?”
“People I’ve kissed.”
Rafe snorted. “Uh-huh. Do you ask for a rating immediately after a date, or do you give them twenty-four hours to post their reviews?”
“I don’t have to ask, wise guy. I just know.”
“You have an unbelievable ego.”
“Or am I just keepin’ it real? C’mon, it’s not like there’s a suggestion box or even a nice way to give tips.” I counted on my fingers. “Less teeth, no drooling, watch the garlic intake.”
Rafe barked a laugh. “To be honest, it might just be me.”
I widened my eyes playfully. “You’re the bad kisser?”
“No! I mean…I don’t think I’m into him.”
Music to my freaking ears.
Wait. What?
“Oh.”
“Eli’s good-looking and talented, and the idea that someone like him would notice me is flattering.
But…he doesn’t do it for me, and I’m positive that works both ways.
In fact, I almost wonder if he’s trying to soften me up and mess with my head.
We’re on the same team, but we’re competitors.
Maybe he wants to sabotage me, and…yes, I hear myself.
I’m so mortified.” Rafe closed his eyes, his shoulders slouched in defeat.
“He offered to walk me to the door, and I couldn’t get away fast enough.
I practically bolted out of his car. I should have left things in the ambiguous pinky-holding stage. I was happy there.”
“No one wants to hold someone’s pinky forever. It’s not sexy.”
“It’s sweet.”
I scoffed. “We have different ideas of a good time, Rafester. If I’m with a guy—which, for the record, hasn’t been for a while—I don’t want sweet. I want hot. Like scorching hot, raging hard-ons, fuck-against-the-wall hot. You know what I’m sayin’?”
Rafe’s mouth fell open. “Uh…yes.”
“Don’t settle for pinky sex and adequate kisses when the real deal can blow your mind.”
He made a funny choking noise. “Right. Good call.”
“I’m serious. Life’s too short. Have fun, try new things, go on adventures, splurge on that meal or the shirt or the concert tickets or whatever makes you happy. ’Cause at the end of the day…happy matters, fun matters.”
Rafe nodded slowly. “You’re good at having fun.”
True dat. “I’ve been told I’m a little too good at it, but we don’t need to go there. The point is…there’s someone out there who’s a great kisser and a freak in the sheets who’s just waiting to meet you.”
“Thanks. That’s nice of you to say.”
“You don’t believe me.” I shot him a faux-menacing glare.
He chuckled. “I’d like to, but if I do meet someone, it’s probably not going to be at Smithton.”
“Why not?”
“I graduate in a couple of months, and I have to ramp up my training if I hope to skate in the Collegiate Championships this summer. I don’t have time for fun because this is it for me. My last hoorah.”
I waved my arms in the air as if directing an incoming plane. “Bad attitude, Johannsen. I’m your wingman. Forget about Eli. Let’s move on. Who else do you like or find attractive enough to want to kiss?”
Rafe averted his gaze. “No one.”
“Oh, please. A kiss is just lip fusion. No biggie. There’s gotta be someone.”
“I…no, there’s no one.” He shook his head manically.
“There’s me.”
That was—I was…kidding. It was playful BS, no big deal.
But we both froze, our eyes wide. And I wasn’t sure who was more surprised.
If I were my normal self, I’d have already laughed this off, and he wouldn’t think twice about my outburst ’cause everyone knew Gus Langley was always joking, always drunk, always high…never serious.
But I was sober, my defenses were low, and no, I wasn’t kidding. I wanted to kiss my roommate. I was dying to taste Rafe, feel his sexy body against mine.
“You?” he croaked.
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah. Kiss me.”
I braced myself for rejection. It would sting, but c’mon, Rafe was out of my league and I knew it. Until recently, I’d been pretty sure he hated me, so… Way to ruin a good conversation, ya fuckin’ moron.
But something in Rafe’s expression sparked to life. “You want to kiss me?”
Hell, yes.
“Yeah,” I choked out.
“Like an experiment.”
Maybe? I wasn’t sure how to answer that.
“You trust me?”
Rafe inclined his head. “Yes.”
“C’mere.” I didn’t hesitate. I hooked my fingers through Rafe’s belt loops, drew him close, and slanted my mouth over his.
I figured it would be quick, platonic, and that we’d laugh and maybe it would be embarrassing, but then we’d revert to our usual roommate mode and agree to never mention this again.
But no…
Rafe’s lips were so soft, so pliant, so fucking perfect. His low, needy groan rumbled through my chest, igniting a spark. And when he licked at the corner of my mouth, I tilted my chin and slid my tongue inside, gently coaxing the flames till we were utterly consumed—nipping, sucking, feasting.
I couldn’t speak for Rafe, but this was heaven to me.
I felt like a thirsty man who’d been walking barefoot through a desert for months, and he was an oasis.
Every lick, every taste, every kiss lit me up, tingling dormant nerves, and sending a whoosh of pleasure through my body. Rafe was the ultimate buzz.
We parted for air, panting and gaping at each other in shock.
Well, I was in shock, anyway.
“That was good,” Rafe whispered, his fingers dancing along his bottom lip.
“No, it was amazing.”
He inclined his head. “Yeah. I guess you weren’t overselling your skills.”
“Right,” I chuckled, rubbing my nape awkwardly. “I should—”
“Go to bed. Yes, me too.”
But as he started to walk away, I pulled him back and kissed him again.
More intense, more heated…and holy fuck, a hint of sweet friction.
I almost lost it. I wanted nothing more than to hump, grind, and slide my pole against his. But some semblance of sanity resurfaced.
I broke the kiss, panting.
Rafe opened his mouth and closed it, hiking a thumb in the general direction of the stairs. “I should…”
“Yep. See ya.”
He bumped my elbow, playfully pushing me out of his way. “Good night.”
I stepped sideways, but at the last second, I grabbed his wrist and tugged. “Hey, are we cool?”
Rafe pursed his lips and smiled shyly. “We’re cool.”
I waited till his footsteps sounded on the stairs to adjust my semi. My heart was still beating too fast, but I couldn’t do much about that.
I’d kissed my roommate. That had happened.
And you know what? I had no regrets.