“Cool. That’d be awesome.” Austin stood there, a curly-haired sprite with blue paint swiped across his forehead and an expectant look in his eyes. “Vinnie’ll be starving after his run too.”
Before Rafi could say anything, like Um, yeah, how do you feel about mashed plantains?, a muffled knock interrupted them.
Rafi opened the door and Cash backed into the room, arms wrapped around half of a minifridge. Denny held up the other end. Austin called out a hello to Denny and waved when Cash introduced himself over the top of the black box.
“Coming through! Ow.” Cash bounced off the doorframe to Rafi’s room before making it through. “I’m all right. Imma put this by your desk, Rafi.”
“Okay.” There wasn’t enough room in his room to futz about where things fit. “I’m, uh, going to the car. Gonna get more stuff.”
“Food! He’s getting me food before I die of starvation,” Austin added helpfully as Cash and Denny returned to the common room.
Rafi shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight. He was having second thoughts. “I don’t know, man. You might not like it.”
“Why? What is it? Please tell me you’re not some kind of vegan. Bob did that last year and the gas factor was seriously too high for words.”
Rafi barked a laugh. His family didn’t believe in letting a meal go by without meat on the plate. Bob, right, the other suitemate. “No, not a vegan.” Cash was looking at him funny, probably picking up on Rafi’s low-grade awkwardness about the food he normally loved. “My sisters packed up a bunch of stuff. I don’t know if you’ll like it, though.” He tried to picture serving a plate of mofongo or mangú to his suitemate and got dizzy at the idea.
“Hey, your sisters make great food,” Denny protested. Rafi glanced at Austin, who didn’t look surprised to hear that Denny had shared meals with Rafi’s family. Shoot, for the two months Denny had been in Chicago, he’d spent half his free time hanging out at Rafi’s place, and his sisters had treated him like a second little brother. When Denny had been harassed by them to help clean up after meals or on Saturday mornings if he’d slept on their couch, Rafi could have sworn that Denny actually enjoyed it. Like it was the first time he’d ever been asked to dust or mop or something.
“Totally,” Cash agreed. “All that stuff they sent over after the fire was awesome.”
Yeah, but Cash had moved into Pilsen like he was adopting a new homeland, especially when it came to the food. He’d eaten anything the families at his school brought to the soccer team’s potluck dinners, and done it with relish. Rafi knew for a fact Cash had eaten menudo at least once, and most of Rafi’s Mexican friends didn’t even like that soup. Cash was not a good barometer for how his mash-up of cold half Boricua, half Dominican, half Mexican food was going to go over here. And yes, he knew that was too many halves.
Fuck it. Not my problem if he hates it. Besides, there’s tamales. Who doesn’t like tamales?
Like he’d read Rafi’s mind, Cash asked, “Ooh, did they get tamales?”
“Yeah.”
“From the red tamale man or the blue one?”
Rafi laughed. Everyone in his neighborhood had strong opinions about which of the two street vendors they preferred, the man with the blue cooler or the man with the red one. Bar fights had started over less. “Blue.”
“Awesome. What else you got?”
With a roomful of guys staring at him, Rafi gave in and started listing stuff he thought might be in the cooler. He hadn’t actually looked hard. In the face of Cash’s enthusiasm, he was starting to feel kind of shitty for having planned to throw it all away. Jesus. What’s wrong with you? Are you so fucking insecure that you’ll crap on stuff you love to fit in here?
“Um, quipes, probably. Those are like kibbeh, or falafel, but with meat,” he explained, seeing that, unlike when he’d mentioned the tamales, no one was lighting up at the sound of his favorite dish. “Empanadas, probably, some tostones, maybe some asopao.”
“Shit, I don’t know what half of that stuff is,” Cash admitted, grinning. “But I bet it’s great.”
“Yeah, but…it’s all cold, and I don’t have any way to heat stuff up or…” He didn’t know if he was offering objections out of habit or not. But while he might not mind eating cold tamales—that had been breakfast before early morning practices for years, eaten on the run as he jogged to school—the idea of passing Tupperware containers of cold food around and eating out of them with his new roommates… He pressed his fingers to his temple. “I mean, I don’t have even have plates or forks or…” Maybe he did? His sisters probably thought of that too, although God knew in what box he’d find dishware. The whole thing was overwhelming.
“You’ve got stuff, right, Austin?” Denny elbowed his friend, and Rafi was reminded again of how Denny already knew everyone here.
“Yup.”
Cash pointed a finger like shooting a gun at Austin. “You want in on the goods, you supply the dishes. Know anyone with an illegal hotplate?”
“Got a microwave in my closet,” Austin said, and accepted the high five from Cash, who was circling the room, making plans. He sent Denny into Rafi’s room for the one cardboard box he’d unpacked so far. “We can use that as a table.”
“Ah, good. I buried a table somewhere under there,” Austin said, waving at the sheet-draped furniture in the middle of the room. “Between the couches last year’s suite left here.”
“Ahh, crappy dorm couches, on which a hundred beers and almost as many condoms have spilled,” Cash said, standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed, like some kind of Greek god, totally at home in his old school environment.
“Mr. Picky-About-The-Furniture’s brother is bringing up a nice couch and table this weekend. His big screen too, thank God, because watching The Walking Dead on my monitor sucks,” Austin said as he finished up, talking about Vinnie, Rafi assumed. Austin wrapped one of the plastic bags around the wet roller and laid the pole down on the drop cloth.
“Doesn’t help us right now, amigo.” Cash, always practical, eying their one cardboard box table.
“I’ve got some crates. Holding the plates and bowls actually. Can you get them out of my closet, Den?”
“Like I’ll find anything in that black hole,” Denny complained, but it sounded like he was joking. He ducked into Austin’s room. Rattling noises and muffled curses followed, before Denny emerged carrying a crate loaded with plates and utensils in a cup.
“Cool. Rafi, you need help getting stuff from the car? You’ve got the keys, right?” Cash asked as Denny set the crate on the floor and turned toward Rafi. Cash knelt and started poking at the dishware.
“Yeah. No, I’m good.” He managed to get the word out before Denny could give him a hopeful look. He was being so rude to the guy, talking to Denny’s cousin and Denny’s friends, but not Denny himself. Rafi wouldn’t blame him if Denny was pissed as hell right now.
Cash nodded. “Okay. C’mon, cuz. Your bro Austin is a little sketchy with the scrub brush, and I can’t be picking week-old ramen out of my teeth.” He mimed gagging over a stack of bowls.
Denny opened his mouth to argue, but kept quiet at a sharp look from Cash. Rafi, nerves on edge from every damn new thing that had happened and was going to happen in this place, took advantage of the moment to sprint for the door.
He didn’t know if this was going to be brilliant or a disaster, but if an all-you-can-eat Dominican buffet was the price of admission to bonding with his suitemates, he’d cross his fingers and hope for the best.
Chapter Two
By the time Rafi returned, Vinnie was back and Austin had cleaned up. Rollers and paintbrushes with plastic bags pressed tight against their wet surfaces were laid flat in the far corner of the room, away from the makeshift tables. Vinnie took over the reheating duties.
“Austin will end up scorching half the stuff a
nd leaving the other half cold,” he said.
As far as Rafi could tell, Austin either didn’t mind it when Vinnie took charge, or possibly he fucked up on purpose, to get Vinnie to do the annoying work for him. Rafi made a mental note keep an eye on that kind of thing. Ending up in charge of anybody else’s crap was not on the agenda. Rafi could barely manage his own.
After quizzing Rafi on which dish was what and how they should be served, Vinnie went to work. Austin ferried dishes to the table as they came out of the microwave, and Rafi was stuck standing around awkwardly.
“Is there a vending machine in the building?” he finally asked, desperate to have a task. “I can go get pop.”
“Pop? God, you’re such a Midwesterner,” Austin said, grinning, and Rafi knew he was teasing but it still grated.
“I’ll buy,” Denny piped in.
Before Rafi could shoot that idea down—no way was he letting Denny start out by paying for things, and yes, Rafi was being totally stupid, but no way—Cash spoke up and overrode them.
“As the only person in the room currently in possession of a J-O-B, I’ll buy. But that fridge was fucking heavy, so you two can fly,” he said, pulling out his wallet and handing it to Denny. Then he sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, and waved for them to be off.
Denny tipped his head toward the door. “C’mon. I know where it is. I lived here last year.”
Rafi nodded and followed him out. All the way down the hall, the three flights of stairs to the ground level, and through another maze of corridors, he stared at the floor, sneaking peeks at Denny when he thought Denny wasn’t looking. It still threw him for a loop, how grown-up Denny looked. If he’d been pretty sure Denny had done more than kiss boys before Carlisle, he was one hundred fucking percent certain of it after seeing him now.
Because, damn. Denny was hot. Tall and ripped and with those careless good looks that didn’t even get on his nerves because Rafi could tell Denny didn’t hardly think about it, how a guy’s heart could stutter when he walked in the room.
Rafi had always had a weakness for sharp-looking men. Between his two new suitemates, he definitely liked Austin better, but it was Vinnie’s slightly formal style that would’ve caught his eye in a club. And Denny… Denny didn’t dress to impress, but he somehow managed to carry sharpness with him as he walked.
That was a dangerous quality.
Getting pop from a vending machine shouldn’t have felt momentous, but Rafi was intensely aware of them being alone together for the first time. In the tiny room Denny led him to, the overhead lights flickered on as they entered.
Denny hadn’t said a word the entire way down, although Rafi had felt his attention hovering, like maybe he was waiting for Rafi to say something first. But as soon as they stopped in front of the vending machines, Denny proved that theory wrong.
“Are you mad at me or something?” Denny demanded.
“No.” Why? But he didn’t say that last part, because he was pretty sure he knew what vibe Denny was picking up on, and he didn’t really want to talk about it. Regardless of what Cash had said, he pulled a five out of his wallet and fed it into the slot.
“Because you’re acting kind of weird.” Denny wasn’t half as hesitant.
“I’m just freaking out a little.” Rafi grunted as the machine rejected the bill. “Damn it.”
“Here. Give me that. They’re finicky.” Denny hip-checked him out of the way. He scraped a thumbnail against the corners of the bill, flattening every curled-up edge or bent crease before feeding the five carefully back into the machine. “Ha. Got it.”
“Thanks.” Rafi punched the button for Coke, and Denny grabbed the change the machine spit out and started feeding it back in. They could tag team it. Maybe this would distract Denny too.
“What are you freaking out about?” Or not. Rafi pulled more cans from the machine, wishing he hadn’t felt the need to volunteer for something. Look where it landed him: smack in the middle of a conversation he really hadn’t wanted to have an hour into his new college career. “You’ve got a killer scholarship, and I know it’s a new school, but you know me. I can show you around, introduce you to people. It’s not like you’re coming here a total blank slate, you know?”
“It’s not that simple,” was all Rafi could find to say, tipping his head forward against the glowing front of the dispenser.
He’d been looking forward to this for months. Almost years. At the beginning, he’d never really believed it would happen. Even when Denny had promised Rafi it would, in late night texts or occasional emails, Rafi had figured he was mostly wishful thinking it. Now the day was actually here—Rafael Castro was on this campus, holy fucking shit—
“When we came back and Austin was there, you acted like you barely knew me,” Denny burst out, before Rafi figured out what to say that would make sense without revealing exactly what a mess he was. Hurt rang hard in Denny’s voice. Like someone had punched him yesterday, and the bruise was only now becoming visible.
“I know. Sorry.”
“Great. Really. Thanks.” Denny was bitter, and Rafi couldn’t blame him. A short laugh that held no joy accompanied the brush-off when he tried to pass Denny more money. “Don’t. Cash wanted to buy.”
Shit. Rafi was screwing this up so badly. He knew Denny had been excited for him to arrive. Had heard it in his texts and emails, even as those had fallen off over the summer as Rafi stopped responding, wrapped up in his own anxiety. He knew Denny had been looking forward to lots of things. To giving him the tour, showing Rafi around and hooking him up with all the inside info.
In his secret heart, Rafi could admit he’d been picturing it too. Imagining Denny walking him around campus, then offering to show Rafi his room, so he could see where Denny lived. Where they’d maybe be hanging out a lot, studying or whatever, during the year.
And if he had imagined the zing of heightened awareness that would crackle between them when they stood alone in Denny’s bedroom? Well, that was nobody’s business but his own, right?
Rafi struggled to explain. He owed Denny that much.
“Listen. It’s different for me than it was for you. You already knew half the team from high school regattas and stuff, right? Plus, how many people from your school go here?” he reminded Denny, knowing it was a safe bet that a chunk of Denny’s class had come to Carlisle. Prep schools were still a mystery to him, but he’d figured out family connections counted big for those people. “You walked on campus with a built-in network. I wasn’t coming up here every year for football games, or to visit friends. I’ve got to find my own way.” But he said it wrong, so it sounded like he was complaining, not explaining that what he needed was to be the one who figured it out.
“But you’ve got me. I can be that for you. That whole ‘network’ I’ve got?” Denny reached out and grabbed his arm. Rafi’s breath caught in his throat. Then he stepped back, the warmth of Denny’s hand lingering on his skin. “It’s yours. You took me all around town when I was in Chicago with Cash. Showed me everything. I can do the same thing for you here at Carlisle.”
Rafi turned back to getting pop, lining the cans up on the floor. “Here’s the thing. When you came to Chicago, you were this kid who’d just run away from home, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
“I’m not a kid, Denny.” Although it kind of felt like maybe he shouldn’t have to say that aloud if it were all the way true. “I’m a grown man. And the first thing Vinnie said when he met me was, You’re Denny’s boy.”
Denny reared his head back and scrunched up his forehead. “He said that?”
“Yeah. And that’s not fucking cool, you know. I just got here, for Christ’s sake.” He flinched on the inside, knowing Lola would crack him one for taking the Lord’s name in vain. His sister was chill about many things, but she had her rules, and that was one of them.
“I get i
t. Only, you know, the guy’s kind of, um, precise?” Denny’s voice turned up at the end. He’s totally anal, and not in the fun way was what Rafi heard, and agreed. Denny’s cheeks turned pink, but he held Rafi’s gaze as he continued. “And I didn’t tell him—didn’t tell anyone—that we’d…”
Kissed.
Made out.
Pressed against each other so hard we could’ve been one person.
Rafi cleared his throat. Twice. “Right. Me neither.”
“So I’m kind of surprised he’d say it like that.” Denny crossed his arms, standing with his feet solidly underneath him, like he was pretty sure Rafi was wrong but was trying to be nice about pointing it out. Firmly.
And now Rafi was starting to think he really was the asshole, because he didn’t actually remember what Vinnie had said, only how it had felt. Like he was less than. Like someone had already laid a claim on him. He shivered at the idea, ghost teeth biting at the back of his neck. To tell the truth, he wasn’t a hundred percent against Denny being that person, but he’d thought he’d have more than fifteen fucking minutes to figure it all out.
Denny reached out and wrapped his fingers around Rafi’s wrist, touching him again. And he might as well have grabbed Rafi by the dick, the way heat zinged up his arm and down his spine. “I swear, I didn’t talk about you like that.”
“Ahh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m overreacting. He probably didn’t mean it like that.” Rafi tried to pull away from Denny’s grip, which only succeeded in tugging him closer. God, I can smell his shampoo. Why does his shampoo make me hard? “Listen, I’m glad you’re here. Really, I am. But you’re gonna have to let me find my own way a little bit too.”
“So, what?” Denny’s breath against his face. His foot nudging between Rafi’s. Rafi’s heartbeat kicked up another notch. “I’m supposed to pretend that I don’t know you?”
Level Hands: Bend or Break, Book 4 Page 4
