The Shameless Hour (22 page)

“We’ll walk her all the way to her door,” Graham said.

“Which is a hundred yards from here,” I pointed out. I was done with being looked after. Really very
done
.

“Then it won’t take us long,” Rikker said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Come on.”

“Thanks,” Rafe said, as if he’d handed over the baton at one of his races. But then he smiled at me. “Goodnight,
belleza
. Congratulations.”

Christ, that smile. And when he called me beautiful in Spanish, my insides melted into a puddle. “Goodnight.”

We left, and my friends were quiet for about fifteen seconds.

“Well, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” Graham said.

“Me neither,” Lianne agreed.

“Quiet!”
I hissed, and they all laughed.

A
fter my shift
at the dining hall, I took all my books to the library.

Hunkered down in a weenie bin, I tried to study. But it was impossible to concentrate. I kept picturing Bella’s victory in my mind. So I sat there refreshing the school newspaper’s website, waiting for the story.

Finally, after I’d clicked the button about a thousand times, it came up — a big picture showing the frat’s messy but legible declaration of inadequacy. And the headline? FOOTBALL TEAM AND FRAT BOTH FUMBLE DURING RAUCOUS LOSS TO TIGERS.

Damn, I liked seeing that.

I read the article written by Bella’s friend Michael Graham. It was a straightforward account of the game and about the half-time shenanigans. Graham wrote: “No one has claimed responsibility for the performance art in the Beta Rho section.”

There was a quote from an alum who was pretty pissed off. “This is libel. We will get to the bottom of this prank, and we will take legal action.”

That made me cringe. I didn’t think Bella’s prank was legally actionable. But what the hell did I know?

My eye was drawn a sidebar article. CUPS AND CUPS OF QUESTIONS.

“Several hundred plastic tumblers with the Beta Rho crest were passed out in the student section during half-time,” it read.

I’d assumed the cups were just cover for the models’ presence, but I’d been wrong. A photo of the back of a cup showed another message:

“
J
esucristo
,” I whispered to myself. Bella had been wrong when she called herself a failed feminist. She ought to be teaching the class.

The article went on to quote several women on the subject of Beta Rho.
“Everybody thinks that Skank of the Week thing is awful,” said a female volleyball player who asked for her name to be withheld. “But nobody speaks out, because no one wants to admit winning it.”
The article went on to quote an RA on fresh court who said she always cautioned her First Year charges against getting drunk at a fraternity.
“They egg each other on,” she said. “So it’s not a safe place.”

There in the weenie bin, I sat grinning at my computer screen. If Bella was trying to warn women away from Beta Rho, she’d done an excellent job. Front page. And her name was nowhere in the article.

I’d told her not to go through with it. She probably thought I was a jackass. Maybe she was right.

I still didn’t know what to do with my feelings for Bella. Standing around outside today I’d had several hours alone with my thoughts. We were still at an impasse. Several times today I’d considered just giving in — agreeing to be friends with benefits if that’s what she really wanted.

But…
Dios
, it would never work. The point of arranging a casual hook-up was the
casual
part. And I’d be carrying all sorts of extra yearning into that bedroom, whether I meant to or not. I could agree to shed my clothes, but I couldn’t agree to shed my feelings. They were permanent. Like an invisible tattoo. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.

So I had two choices. I could either slink away and hide how bummed out I was about the whole thing. Or I could try again. I could wait a week and press my case. And if she said no, I could ask again sometime.

There was an old Wayne Gretzky quote that my soccer coach liked to use, even though it was supposed to refer to hockey. “You miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.”

It was an easy decision, really.

I pulled my French book closer to me, but then ended up tossing it away again. It occurred to me that I hadn’t been as forthright with Alison as I planned to be with Bella. Which meant that my troubles with Alison weren’t all her fault…

Jesucristo
.

I fired up my laptop one more time and composed an email message:

Dear Alison,

Hi. I just wanted to tell you that what happened between us wasn’t all your fault.

It cost me something to write that. Because my inner cave man wanted to protest. But I soldiered on.

It always bothered me when you pushed me away. But instead of trying to figure out what was wrong, I just brooded about it. I made up a dozen reasons in my mind, and all of them were wrong. If I’d been able to speak up earlier, we might have avoided all the drama on our birthday. And so for that, I am sorry.

See you at Urban Studies on Tuesday,

—Rafe

F
eeling satisfied
, and suddenly exhausted, I snapped the computer shut and picked up my French book. At least I had a plan now. It might not be much. But it was something.

A
fter dinner
, Lianne and I had retreated to our rabbit warren under the eaves.

My crazy neighbor blasted celebratory dance music in her room. Every three minutes she popped through the bathroom door to update me on how many people had uploaded pictures of Beta Rho’s humiliation to various social networking sites. “It has its own hashtag!” she shrieked from her room. “They’re calling it BroDoh! God, this is so cool.”

It was amusing how pumped up Lianne was. This was a girl whose Oscar-night dress was tweeted by tens of thousands — a girl who showed up in
People Magazine
on a monthly basis. And she was all riled up about a little football game mayhem.

As for me, I just felt… unsettled. I’d scored every point I’d gone for today. But here I was, pacing my room again, monitoring my phone for threatening calls.

There weren’t any. Not a one.

“There’s a funny thread on YikYak!” Lianne announced from her room. “People are rewriting our message. Like, ‘Fucktards since 1915 would have worked just as well, with fewer characters.’” She let out a gleeful laugh. “And on Twitter the women’s soccer team would like to throw a party for whoever was responsible.”

“Cool.” It was pretty great to hear my efforts were appreciated. But at the end of the day, what had I really accomplished? I wrecked their self-aggrandizing party, and I proved they were morons. I probably made two hundred new enemies in the process.

Oh, the drama
. In my heart, I wasn’t cut out for drama. I just wanted to be close to my friends again and feel comfortable with myself.

There had been precious little comfort and happiness this year, and all of it had come from one man. My heart gave a creaky little squeeze when I thought of Rafe. If I was lucky, he’d come barreling in here in the next half hour demanding that we finish our Urban Studies project.

Wait, what?
My brain did a slow replay of that strange little desire. But there it was. I’d become accustomed to seeing one particular devilishly handsome face every day. And except for that glimpse in the dining hall, I hadn’t gotten my daily fix.

He’d probably turn up soon. And if he decided to work on something else tonight, I’d see him tomorrow. That was soon enough, right?

Of course it was
.

But ten minutes later, I was eyeing the clock again, calculating how long ago Rafe’s shift had ended. Maybe he’d gone out with his teammates?

Maybe he was chatting up some cute Alison lookalike and asking for her phone number.

“Shit!” I yelled. Why the
hell
did that idea bother me so much?

“What is it?” Lianne yelped, dashing into my room. “Did anyone call?” Her blue eyes were round with worry.

“No,” I said quickly. “Just, um, stubbed my toe.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Don’t scare me like that. By the way, I’ve counted twenty-seven uploads to YouTube.”

“Awesome,” I said.

“This is the best day of my life,” Lianne said from over my shoulder. “Who else needs to be pranked?” she asked. “I’m ready to do it all again.”

It was official. I’d created a monster. A very small one, with flawless skin.

B
y midnight
, I was a twitchy basket case. While the interwebs continued to erupt with glee over my victory, my own phone was utterly silent.

And Rafe had never showed.

The urge to see him had reached painful proportions. Why hadn’t it occurred to me that when I’d sent him away he might actually stay there?

I was lonely tonight. Sure, I could have called a few of my hockey friends. Pepe or Trevi would have been surprised to hear from me, but they probably would have been happy to see me.

But Pepe and Trevi weren’t who I wanted to see.

Rafe was probably asleep by now. Here I was, having some kind of freaky revelation about how much I cared about him. And he was right downstairs.

“Fuck it,” I whispered to myself, shoving my feet into my Converse high-tops. “I’m goin’ in.”

I was half-way down the stairs when I realized I’d get some strange looks from Rafe’s roommates when I showed up in a tiny little tank top and flannel PJ pants. But it was really too late to worry about that.

There was an encouraging stripe of light underneath their common room door. I knocked.

Nothing.

I knocked again. Since I’m not exactly famous for propriety, I tried the door, which opened in my hand.

The common room was empty and both bedroom doors were shut. I thought I heard male voices, but when I tiptoed to Rafe’s door, there was only silence. The sound must have been coming from Mat’s room.

The right thing to do was to go back upstairs and wait to talk to Rafe in the morning. But… in for a penny, in for a pound. I tapped on the door. “Rafe? It’s Bella. Can I come in?” I listened to the silence. Then I opened the door.

Both beds were empty. “Fuck!”

Mat’s bedroom door opened, and he stuck his head out. “Can I help you?”

“Where’s Rafe?” I probably should have apologized for breaking and entering. But when you’re trying to re-enact the romantic ending of a chick flick, there just wasn’t time.

“Um.” His roommate ran a hand through tousled hair. “The library?” he guessed.

“Which library?” I demanded.

Mat gave me an irritated look. “How would I know? He likes Central Campus.”

“Thanks!” I called over my shoulder. I ran out of the room, and down the stairs. I’d forgotten my coat, and it was cold out. Very cold. But the romantic heroines of movies didn’t worry about that sort of thing, so neither would I. Beginning a nicely paced jog to Central Campus Library, I had to hold my boobs in crossed arms, because I’d neglected to wear a bra.

Awkward, but I made good time.

Central Campus Library was not a small place. I began on the ground level, searching every carrel, chair and table. It wasn’t too crowded, given the hour. But I did not spot Rafe anywhere.

Okay, I was officially off the chick flick script. And people were starting to stare.

On the lower level, it was the same story. I couldn’t find him anywhere. The library would close soon. The only place I hadn’t searched were the weenie bins, so I began peeking through the little windows of each one. I was discouraged. Maybe Rafe
was
out at a party.

Halfway down the row, I had to stand on my tiptoes to see a weenie bin’s occupant because someone had slumped over on the desk. Peering in, I saw a set of broad shoulders, and a gorgeous masculine face asleep on a book. I opened the door a few inches. “Rafe?”

“Mmm?” he said.

I went into the tiny room and slid the door closed behind me. “Rafe?” I whispered, putting my hand on his shoulder. He felt warm and solid beneath my touch.

He lifted his head from the textbook, and I watched him wake up fast. “Bella? Are you okay?” He turned in his seat, and his eyes swept me from top to toe, as if looking for damage. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong
. Here was a boy who had done so much for me, only to have me reject him. And when I woke him from a sound sleep, the first thing he did was try to figure out if I was in need of help.

God, I was such an idiot.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I whispered. “I just wanted to see you.”

His eyes went squinty for a second, as if he was trying to solve a math problem. He propped his head in one hand. “It’s late,” he said, closing his eyes again.

“I know, Captain Obvious. It’s late. But I hope it’s not
too
late.” I dropped both hands to his shoulders. My thumbs stroked the skin of his neck, while his head tipped forward to land against my stomach.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispered. “But I like the visit.”

“I’m saying…” I began. But I wasn’t sure how to proceed. I’d never told a guy that I’d wanted to be with him. Except for Fucker Tanning. And I’d long blocked all the sweet things I’d ever said to him out of my brain. When I was in love with Graham, I’d never told him. I’d never hinted. Not once. Too risky.

Rafe waited. He waited by reaching up to slowly trace the line of my forearm with his thumb. It felt distractingly nice.

Focus, Bella!
“I’m saying that I think you were right. We’re, um, compatible.”

Rafe smiled without opening his eyes. “You think so, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said softly.

“All right,” he murmured. “What do you want to do about that?”

“Uh.” Wasn’t it obvious? “We can be together.”

“Huh,” he said, opening his eyes. “I don’t know, Bella. We need to be sure that there aren’t any misunderstandings, here. I’m not sure that ‘being together’ is clear enough. Spell it out for me. You’d be my…?”

“Well…” I cleared my throat. “I’d be your…”

Rafe grinned.

I pinched his shoulder. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little bit.”

“Do we need labels, though? I’m trying to say that we should be exclusive. I want that. But a
girlfriend
is someone who is always on the phone with her boyfriend, or waiting for him to call. Or always talking about him, or making sure their plans line up for everything. She never says yes to anything without checking with him first…” Yeah, it’s really no surprise I’d never signed up for that.

Rafe tipped his handsome chin upward, so he could see me clearly. “There is only one thing you have to do, and that’s care.”

That was all? “I
do
care.”

He smiled again, and it was like the sun coming out. “I know, baby. Now come here.” Rafe pulled me onto his lap and wrapped both arms around me.

For a moment I hesitated. I’d been a one-woman show for so long I wasn’t sure I was ready to fold myself into a man’s embrace. But he was warm and sturdy, and I tucked my head against his shoulder and sighed. I suddenly realized the feeling was really familiar. I’d been leaning on him for months without ever admitting how much.

And this was
really
nice.

His big hand cupped my head and then stroked my hair. His lips found my forehead, and the kiss he placed there was so sweet I felt a lump in my throat.

Remind me why I’d resisted this?

“You feel good right here,” Rafe murmured. His hand skated down my spine, leaving tingles in its wake.

“I was lonely for you tonight,” I admitted. “I kept wishing you’d show up and demand to work on our spreadsheets.”

“You
are
a sexy girl,” Rafe whispered, and I laughed into his neck.

I lifted my face to his. “It’s true what they say about me. I like big, long
columns
of numbers. I want to make your interest rate spike.”

With a chuckle, he kissed my forehead again. “You’ve got my attention now. But I was never giving up on you,
belleza
. I thought I needed a night to regroup. But I was always coming back for you. To try to win you over.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so dense.”

He shook his head. “Nothing dense about you. You
schooled
those boys today. People are going to talk about it for weeks.”

That might be true, but I didn’t want to think about it right now. Instead, I put my lips on his jaw. Then I tasted him, enjoying the scrape of his whiskers on my tongue.

His breath hitched. “
Belleza
,” he whispered hoarsely, making me shiver. Then he tilted that sexy mouth down to mine and kissed me slowly. His lips were warm and firm, and so very
Rafe
.

“Mmm,” I sighed against his lips. I wondered how it would be between us now that we knew each other’s secrets. Maybe Rafe would be tentative. I hoped not.

He deepened the kiss. I opened for him, and his bossy tongue tangled with mine. One big hand slipped around my waist to palm my quivering belly, and the gentle pressure sent waves of electricity zinging through my core, lighting up my fun zone.

Not tentative! Nope!

Rafe stoked our kiss, his lips coaxing mine, his hands skimming, teasing…

A loud moan reverberated off the weenie bin walls, and it came from me. The single night we’d shared in September had lived on in my mind, so hot and wild that I’d wondered if my memory had embellished it. But now I knew it hadn’t. Inside the thoughtful, quiet Rafe I’d come to know lurked the sensual beast I’d remembered. As he kissed me, those strong arms were in motion, squeezing my hips, pulling me against his sturdy chest.

I turned my whole body to face him, seeking even better contact. Tossing a knee over his lap, I managed to straddle him properly. His arms clamped around me, his hands landing on my ass. He squeezed, and we both groaned.

Our kisses were as deep as the ocean. I hadn’t let my guard down like this — truly letting myself go — in so very long. I’d been tied up in knots for so many weeks that it had come to seem normal. But this was glorious. I basked in the circle of Rafe’s arms and let him know exactly how happy he made me.

“ATTENTION PLEASE. THE LIBRARY WILL CLOSE IN TEN MINUTES.”

The intercom’s warning was barely enough to separate us. After several more drugging kisses, we finally broke apart, both of us panting. “We should go,” Rafe said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. But then I kissed him again, because my mouth overruled my brain.

Rafe chuckled against my lips. “Come on,” he said, slapping my backside. “Let’s get out of here.”

I’d never heard a better idea in my life.

Rafe shoved his books and computer into his backpack then followed me out of the little room. He put an arm around my waist, and together we climbed the stairs and walked out into the night. “Where’s your jacket?” he asked, eyeing me. “Wait. Where are your
clothes?
”

“Um,” I said as he stopped to shuck off his jacket and drape it over my shoulders. “I was in a hurry to find you.”

“You ran over here alone, in your PJs?”

“Rafe, it’s
two blocks
.”

He put his arm around me again. “Can I remind you that it’s important to stay off a certain fraternity’s radar right now?”

“Nope,” I argued, steering him down the street again. “Think about it. Do you really want your first move as my boyfriend to be an argument? That’s going to hold up your trip to pound town.”