Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113047 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113047 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Rafe gets this intent look when he’s talking about this crap.
“They’re really good people, though. And Tony told me at dinner that he was glad I’d brought you.”
I laugh but it doesn’t sound right. “Yeah, dinner. I can picture that conversation. ‘Hey, Rafe, I’m glad you brought the stupid car guy who didn’t know what he was doing.’”
“Hey.” Rafe’s expression is serious. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t turn something I said into a weapon you use against yourself.”
My ears heat. I grab a beer from the refrigerator and hold one out to Rafe before I remember he doesn’t drink, and he shakes his head tightly.
“Seriously, Colin. They’re not like that.”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning against the fridge and looking down at the floor I scrubbed the other day. The new bleach-to-water ratio I used definitely helped with the yellowing. “Yeah, I’m sure they’re perfect and you all volunteer at soup kitchens together and shit.” My voice is a snarl and I sound childish even to myself. I don’t know why I do this.
“Actually,” Rafe says, leaning forward in his chair, shoulders tight. “I do sometimes. What are you trying to say?”
“Whatever,” I mutter, wishing I could take it back. Why the hell does it piss me off so much that he volunteers at a soup kitchen?
“No. You think I haven’t seen this before, Colin? Someone trying to make me feel as if the work I do is suspect. Make it seem like my commitment to my politics is about feeling superior?”
And that’s what it is. Like every good thing he does just underlines how I’m no good to anyone.
“You do feel superior, though. Don’t you? To me, anyway. I can see what you think. I’m a selfish little bitch who doesn’t do anything for anyone but himself. Hell, who couldn’t even—”
“Stop it right there,” Rafe says sharply, out of his chair in an instant. “Don’t tell me what I think. Don’t put words in my mouth.”
I put more beer in my mouth instead, tossing the empty can and using the time when my back is to Rafe to get myself under control.
For a while we just stand there. Finally, he says, “You know, you volunteer too. At the YA.”
Yeah, I want to say. At the YA where the kids think I’m fucking gay because of the way you look at me. Except he’s not looking at me that way now. Now he just looks… disappointed. And fuck me, my stupid breathing thing is back.
I crack open another beer and slump against the counter, trying to get a deep breath. I have no idea what to say, and Rafe’s obviously not going to help me out this time.
“I’m going to leave,” Rafe says finally, as I finish the beer.
Ugh, I’m furious with him but I want him to stay. I’m a total monster right now, but I want, somehow, for him to choose to spend time with me anyway.
“Yeah? Got to go find someone to hang out with who’s a saint like Javier, huh?” Shit. I did not mean to say that. I can’t meet Rafe’s eyes. He stands slowly, like he’s making an effort to stay calm.
“No. But I can’t be around you when you’re intoxicated.”
“Pssh, I am not intoxicated.”
“It’s not negotiable,” he says with this superior tone that makes me feel like a worm.
“Jesus Christ, man, can you take it down a notch? It’s just a few beers. It’s not like I’m a fucking junkie or something.”
Rafe straightens to his full height and looks me right in the eye.
“Yeah,” he says. “Well. I am.”
Chapter 6
“UH,” I say, anger swallowed up by surprise. “What?”
Rafe sighs and runs both hands through his hair, making it fall around his face in messy waves. “Shit. This isn’t the way I wanted to tell you.”
He starts looking around the kitchen like a door might magically open in the wall. Finally, he sighs again and stands up straight, as if he’s forcing himself to be still.
“Look, okay. I had a drug problem.” Rafe’s voice is quiet. A little shaky. “I was… into some bad shit and I…. It’s still a struggle for me sometimes, and one thing that helps me keep it under control is not being around people who are intoxicated.”
I have no idea what to say to that. It’s not hard to picture Rafe being into some bad shit. I’ve noticed the way people look at him, like he’s a threat. When he walks at night, he’s told me, women will cross the street so they don’t pass him, and I know it bothers him even though he understands it. No, it’s the idea of Rafe being helpless, out of control, that doesn’t fit with the way I think of him.
He glances at me uncertainly, and I’m suddenly aware that I haven’t said anything.
“Um. Okay.” I want to be reassuring, but I’m pretty sure I just sound confused. I try again. “But you stopped?”