The Theory of Deviance: Portland Rebels, Book 3

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  Mikey swallowed. He’d heard about reparative therapy, about the things done to people in places like that. He glanced at Rafe’s wrists and whispered, “You tried to kill yourself?”

  “Tried. And failed. At least that’s what my parents told me when they came to the hospital. They said I was cowardly and selfish. That I’d failed them. Failed God. They didn’t care how I felt. They just wanted me gone.”

  Rage ignited in Mikey’s chest—a helpless futility that he couldn’t protect Rafe from what he’d been through. Fix it, somehow. But Rafe didn’t look like he needed fixing. He lifted his chin in a move of defiance Mikey had never been brave enough to make.

  “They released me, the disgraced prodigal son. I left home, went to New York, and never looked back. Now I embrace who I am and don’t question it, for anyone.”

  Mikey shook his head, respecting the hell out of the guy. It was unimaginable, enduring what Rafe had, and still being able to stand here and tell the tale.

  “I’m so sorry. My parents have been pretty lousy, but it’s been nothing like that.”

  Rafe’s lips quirked up into a smirk. “I was wondering when you were going to tell me.”

  Time seemed to slow as Mikey’s breathing sped up, his heart pounding. He wondered if he needed to clarify that he was bi, not gay, but he had a feeling Rafe already knew. Their eyes locked, and if they’d been alone, Mikey might have let Rafe kiss him.

  He might’ve been the one to do it first.

  “I guess I just did.”

  Rafe’s brows lifted, his eyes dancing, but then Krissy scampered toward them with a radiant, breathless smile.

  “Merrick wants to get me in makeup and a costume.”

  “What, you’re not wearing one already?” Rafe asked. Krissy blew a raspberry at him, and he tousled her hair. “I’m kidding. Go on. Dress up for us.”

  She glanced at Mikey. Waiting for his consent too, it seemed. “Do it. I can’t wait to see.”

  Krissy beamed and dashed toward the curtain, ducking behind it along with Merrick and a female cast member. Mikey and Rafe crossed to follow her.

  “I’m glad Merrick was able to do this,” Rafe said. “I was worried yesterday soured everything for her.”

  “Krissy can’t be around smoke because of her condition?”

  Mikey wasn’t sure if he should broach the topic, but Krissy hadn’t expressly said he couldn’t, and it was too late to undo asking it anyway.

  “It’s more in her head than anything else. Smoke isn’t going to trigger anything, but it makes her uneasy. Reminds her of her first episode. I shelter her from stuff as much as I can, but honestly? Sometimes it sucks. I haven’t taken a puff in years.”

  “You smoke pot?”

  “Used to with Merrick back in the day.” The coy look on Rafe’s face was suggestive and alarming. “You?”

  “Never.” Mikey had never smoked anything, not even a cigarette. “Always wondered what it would be like though.”

  He thought it might be close to Krissy’s experience on the trapeze. Sometimes, when he’d escaped an argument with his parents, he wanted to clock out mentally, to disconnect from reality entirely. He’d thought about asking Dean or Connor how to get some drugs, figuring they’d know, but stopped himself. He wanted to be a good Christian, and that was one more unethical activity he kept himself from.

  They stepped from the threshold of the stage and into the wings. A clipboard with cues scratched across it hung from the wall, hooks with body mikes next to it. Set pieces cluttered a hallway that ran perpendicular to the stage. Krissy was at the other end of it, her head thrown back as Merrick swept her into one of the dressing rooms. The sound of her laughter put a goofy grin on Mikey’s face. Rafe’s smile wasn’t so different from his own.

  “You two are close.” It wasn’t a statement that needed confirming, but Mikey wanted to hear it from him.

  Rafe put his coat on the floor and sat next to it. Mikey sank down beside him.

  “After we found out about our…shared experiences, it was like fate. Not everyone knows what it’s like to be on meds for depression.” He examined his wrist. “Or to be on the inside of a mental hospital.”

  Oh.

  Rafe dropped his hand and let his head fall back against the wall. “She’s like family to me. The only family I have now. We’ve got the same scars, just from different kinds of battles. That’s why I hope she likes it here.” He looked over at Mikey. “Why I hope she’ll audition for this company.”

  The last sentiment was clear: Why I hope she’ll stay here with you.

  “You don’t want her to live with you anymore?”

  “I do. I’ll miss her like crazy, but I want her with someone who can give her everything.”

  I.e., him. “Because you only fall for men?”

  Rafe’s eyes twinkled with merriment. “Are you taking Krissy’s place here?”

  Mikey blushed. Why was he asking so many questions? But he needed the answers.

  “I guess. I mean, I just wanted to know if that’s why you and Krissy don’t…”

  “Have actual sex?” When Mikey nodded, Rafe shrugged, his cheerful expression fading. “I suppose it’s the last vestiges of a religion I’ve thrown off. It’s ridiculous considering the circumstances, and the fact that I had plenty of partners before her, but to me, sex means commitment. It means I’m going to stick by you forever. It means love, and I can’t give her that. But that’s not the only reason I hold back from her.”

  A flurry of movement by the dressing rooms caught their attention. Doors opened and closed, Krissy’s voice ringing out as Merrick tugged her down another hallway. Rafe turned his head, fixated on the ghost of Krissy’s presence.

  “She puts on a good show, but she’s not as strong as she seems. She needs someone to be there for her. Even if I could give her all my heart, I’m not in great mental shape either. What happens to her if I go under?”

  The soft cadence of his voice made Mikey feel like he was finally getting a glimpse of the real Rafe. And of how much he cared for Krissy’s welfare.

  Before either of them could say anything else, music blasted through the theater’s speakers—a radio playing the haunting opening to Madonna’s “Like a Prayer”. Rafe went quiet and smiled.

  “You like Madonna?” Mikey asked.

  Rafe listened for another moment, then hopped to his feet and peeked around the curtain. “That’s not Madonna.”

  He pulled the heavy black fabric back, and Mikey moved to stand. It wasn’t the radio they were hearing. It was Krissy, alone in the spotlight in a frilly red dress, the pit band playing with her. Her voice was pure and clear, no trace of stage fright anywhere as she belted out the song.

  “Holy shit,” Mikey murmured. “She’s amazing.”

  “Isn’t she?”

  Rafe flashed a grin back at Mikey before running out to the stage. He sang the second verse with her, spinning her around before pulling her back to his side. Their moves were effortlessly coordinated, with the kind of ease only people familiar with one another’s bodies could have. The lyrics couldn’t have been more perfect either. It certainly felt like a dream, being here with them, and as the rest of the cast joined in, Mikey stood by the curtain, transfixed. He was in awe of Krissy’s and Rafe’s talent, of their bravery, of the way they’d both risen up from the ashes of experiences that could’ve destroyed them.

  Krissy turned back and reached a hand out, gesturing for Mikey to join them. He hesitated, then kicked his doubts to the curb. He wanted nothing to do with the guilt that had crippled him this morning. He wanted inside whatever this crazy situation with them was, to bask in their attention, in their openness and desires.

  He walked onto the stage and put his arm around her. Fitting it snugly above Rafe’s, he let the pleasure of touching them both roll through him.

  Fo
rgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

  And I want to do it again.

  * * * * *

  They returned to the apartment a few hours later. The cast had ordered in dinner after Krissy’s performance, and they’d shared a meal as well as more impromptu songs. Mikey had joined in, taking a guitar offered by one of the musicians, and they’d left with an invitation from Merrick to join him at a karaoke bar on New Year’s Eve.

  They climbed the steps to the entrance. Mikey opened the door, but Rafe hovered on the landing.

  “I think I’ll hang out here a bit. Take in the view.”

  “The view?” Krissy asked. “It’s pitch black out. And freezing.” She stepped into his space and peered up at him. “Why are you being weird?”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  It made him uneasy, watching them argue. Mikey would’ve felt like he was intruding, if it weren’t for the way Rafe’s gaze sneaked toward his.

  “I thought I’d give the two of you some space. And—” he sighed and pulled a small baggie from his pocket, “—Merrick gave me a couple of real joints. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you and it’s…been a while.”

  Krissy bowed her head. Mikey wanted to console her, then to yell at Rafe for putting her in this position, for bringing something into the apartment he knew would make Krissy uncomfortable, but this seemed like it was between them.

  And a small, horrible part of him wanted to smoke with Rafe too.

  “Forget it. I’ll throw them out,” Rafe said, but Krissy cut him off.

  “No,” she said sharply. “Smoke inside, just do it by the window or something.” She looked back at Mikey. “Would Dean and Jamie mind?”

  “Doubtful.” If Dean had given Mikey permission to have sex in his bed, he didn’t think a little pot in the living room would matter.

  “Then it’s settled. I’ll do my yoga in the bedroom.”

  Rafe blinked at her, his brow furrowed. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. It’s your vacation too.” She brushed past Mikey and curled her fingers around his arm. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

  “Sure.” Leaving Rafe behind them, he let her tow him down the hall and into the bedroom. “What’s—”

  She was kissing him before he’d finished talking. Hard, aggressive kisses, her tongue sliding along his as she pushed him against the wall and dug her fingers into his hair. She rocked her lower body against his, and Mikey moaned into her mouth, too surprised to think clearly enough to ask if she was okay and too turned on to care.

  He skated his touch over the curve of her waist, thumbs inching under her clothes to sweep along her sides. Her skin was still cool from being outside. She kissed his neck, teeth skidding upward until she reached his ear.

  “You can smoke too,” she whispered. “I won’t be mad.”

  “No, I…shit—” She bit down on his earlobe. “I thought I’d stay here with you.”

  “And watch me stretch? That sounds pretty boring.” She inched her hands down his back. “Don’t you want to go out there and relax?”

  She gripped his ass, thumbs riding along the crack. His knees buckled. Fuck.

  “I guess.”

  “Okay then.” She let go of him and took a step back. “Have fun. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  He pulled the door open, then paused. “You’re really cool with this?”

  “Yeah.” She gave him a salacious smile. “I kinda like the idea of you all giggly and stoned.”

  Once she’d shut the door, Mikey leaned back against it, inhaling slowly. He’d expected her to need reassuring, not a make-out session before ushering him out of the room to do something that was illegal in half the country.

  Hoping she was really as fine with everything as she seemed, Mikey headed into the living room. Rafe was standing at the window farthest from the bedroom. It was wide open, letting cold air in, the oven vent on full blast. One look over his shoulder had Rafe shaking his head.

  “I’m guessing it wasn’t talking Krissy wanted to do with you.”

  Mikey reached a hand up. His hair was a disheveled mess. “Do I look that bad?”

  “Here.” Rafe held out the joint he had pinched between this thumb and forefinger. “I think you need a hit more than I do.”

  Mikey took a step forward, huffing out a breath in embarrassment. His stomach pitched with excitement as he took what Rafe offered. It felt wicked and decadent, getting to share such an intimate thing with him. Something sexual but not quite, breathing the same air, their mouths on the same little piece of paper.

  “I’m going to cough my head off once I take my first puff, aren’t I?” he asked.

  “Probably.”

  Mikey held the joint between his lips. One long, burning inhalation later, and he was hacking up his guts. Rafe’s amused expression was barely visible from his watery eyes.

  “I’m glad to see what an excellent influence our visit is having on you,” Rafe said. “Welcome to the dark side.”

  It certainly felt like Mikey had crossed a line somewhere. Stepped over an invisible boundary he’d stayed away from. Once he was finally upright, he took another experimental puff, breathing in deeply. This time Mikey managed to keep most of the smoke in his lungs, exhaling without as much coughing. One more hit, and his body grew tingly, his head swimming with a lightheadedness he should’ve expected but somehow didn’t. Mikey handed the joint back to Rafe.

  He took a long drag and stared out the window. “One thing I forgot to mention earlier.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you break Krissy’s heart, I’ll kill you.”

  Mikey snorted, then started giggling. Rafe cackled too, and it was a minute before they had control over themselves.

  “I’m not exactly the heartbreaking type,” he finally said.

  “No?”

  Mikey pointed at his chest. “Virgin, remember?”

  “Right.” Rafe blew smoke out the corner of his mouth. “Sorry I dragged that into the spotlight last night. I just never would’ve expected it.”

  Mikey felt himself flush at the compliment, warmth gathering in his chest. “I always worried it was plastered on my forehead.”

  “Not at all.” Rafe’s gaze flickered away, then back again. “Have you ever been with a guy?”

  Tension sparked, delicious and dangerous. “Never.”

  “Is that why you ran out on us this morning?”

  “That and my…” Mikey searched for words that wouldn’t break the mood. There was an opportunity blooming here, something he was both terrified of and desperate not to miss out on. “Religious issues.”

  Rafe nodded, a move that showed a shared understanding. “But you’re okay with what happened last night?”

  Mikey tried to read the subtext, to figure out where Rafe was coming from, but he couldn’t. The guy was an emotional fortress. “Are you?”

  A flash of Rafe’s impish smile returned. “Definitely.”

  Guh.

  “I wasn’t,” Mikey said. “But I think I am now.”

  Rafe’s gaze softened for a second—a brief, unguarded look Mikey didn’t have the brainpower to work out—before he handed what was left of the blunt back to him. Their fingers brushed, and Rafe’s touch was a high-voltage shock that found its way into Mikey’s pelvis and tugged.

  He took a final hit. Rafe plucked the joint from his hand and flicked it out the window.

  “So.” His voice was layered with a hint of something that made Mikey’s skin go hot. “Krissy admitted her fantasy last night. What’s yours?”

  Guilt hovered but Mikey ignored it. In that moment, he didn’t care about God or religion or his parents’ opinions. He wanted the gentle play of Krissy’s feminine curves alongside Rafe’s masculine touch. Hard and soft together, hands and legs everywher
e, mouths too, grinding, hot and wet.

  An ecstatic, filthy revelry of sin.

  “Something close to last night, actually. But with…more.”

  “More, huh?” Rafe smirked, and Mikey wasn’t sure if it was the dirty look in the other man’s eyes or the marijuana that was making his head spin.

  “Yeah. A lot more.”

  A quiet groan caught their attention. Krissy was in the hallway, and the look on her face suggested she’d caught the last few lines of their conversation.

  “You’re all done with your yoga?” Rafe asked.

  “I did enough.”

  He gave them both a leering grin, a sex god looking over his disciples.

  “Watching you onstage inspired me today, Krissy,” he said. “I think it’s time I had my directorial debut. It’s a scene I just came up with. I call it ‘Deflowering Mikey’.”

  A thrill shivered through Mikey—half of him excited, the other half apprehensive as hell over the idea of who would be deflowering him. Before he could ask, Rafe strode toward Krissy, took her hand, and twirled her around with the same effortlessness he’d shown onstage. He trapped her against him, her back to his front.

  “And you’re going to be our prop.”

  She went still, her eyes seeming even wider from the stage makeup. “Is that what Mikey wants?”

  “I don’t know.” Rafe slid his hands down to her hips, but his gaze landed on Mikey. “Is that what Mikey wants?”

  Nerves hovered in the distance, his old fears lingering like the snow-thick clouds on the coast. But Mikey was tired of being restrained by the ideals he’d lived by. There was no denying how much he wanted this. He was practically shaking already, with the promise of pleasure in their words.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Krissy blew out an uneven breath. “But are you sure this is how you want your… ”

  She ducked her chin, her doubts clear in the rough slant of her brow. Wanting to soothe her, Mikey stepped over to them and ran his knuckles over Krissy’s cheek until her gaze lifted.