“Sure. Sit.” He pushes the chair next to him out with his foot. I’m surprised he doesn’t pull me away to speak in private, but that’s okay too.
Bree, who’s sitting next to him is watching him carefully, clearly wanting to say something. I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard her speak before. I mean, I’ve heard Fletcher—he’s the one who raises his hand with every single answer in class.
I remove my bag from my shoulder and drop it down next to me as he waits for me, almost in a challenge. I sit down with confidence. I may be a bumbling fool around him, but I’m still the overconfident guy I always was. “So, we volunteering tonight or what?”
“You. Volunteer,” Fletcher snorts, clearly still annoyed by me being near his brother.
“Yeah,” Rhett answers, sitting up a little straighter. He turns toward Bree and Fletcher. “He’s been helping out at the mission.”
Bree’s jaw nearly drops to the floor. Okay, they’re clearly not my biggest fans. “He does?”
Rhett clears his throat. I can tell he’s embarrassed by me. I should be offended, but I let him get away with it. Well, sort of. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him to mine, grinning like an idiot and laying it on thick. “We’re friends now. Is that a big deal?”
Rhett looks like he wants to shove me away, but I give him credit when he doesn’t. Although his body is tense as hell. “We are. I guess.”
Bree looks at him, appalled. “Wait.” She gestures to me, and I finally let Rhett go—although the contact of his body was phenomenal. “This is ‘fuckface’?”
“Sounds about right,” Fletcher gets his shot in as I cock my head to the side, looking at Rhett.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He chuckles as he nods at Bree. “Yup. Definitely.”
“Nice nickname. Can I have a different one?” I ask as Rhett’s eyes meet mine.
“Nope.” He lets a small smile slip. “Bree came over before you did the other day, and I thought it was you. But instead it was her. So, I accidentally called her your nickname.”
I laugh, thinking about it because yeah, I can picture it. Bree shakes her head from side to side, still in disbelief. “You two are really friends?”
Rhett sighs heavily then nods. “Guess so.”
“Wow.” Fletcher looks just as stunned.
“We have a lot in common. Don’t look so surprised,” I try to defend.
Fletcher snorts. “Like what?”
It’s Rhett this time who comes to the defense, “We both draw and we both volunteer. I’m as surprised as you are, but he’s not so bad.”
I cover my heart with my hand in mock appreciation. “Please. Stop. I’m blushing.”
He laughs again, and goddamn, that sound. It’s everything.
And it must surprise Bree and Fletcher because they’re looking at him in shock. “Wow. Okay.” Bree finishes off her milk and places it back on her tray. “This is weird.”
I ignore her disdain and turn back to Rhett. “So, tonight? Am I driving?”
“No. I drove today.”
I narrow my eyes because he knew I’d want to drive him, but then he gives me a smug smile. “So, I guess you can follow me back to my place, if you want, and ride with me.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Fletcher stands up, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. “This is really fucking weird.”
Bree stands too. “Yeah. I have questions . . .” Her eyes dart to me, and then she looks at Rhett—sad longing in those pretty eyes, and okay, a part of me definitely feels for her. It can’t be easy to be in love with your best friend. “Later.”
Rhett seems to accept that but stays put at the table as they leave us sitting alone. I turn to him, my eyebrows raised. “That was painful for you, wasn’t it?”
“To admit you’re a decent human? Hell yeah.”
“Really?” I lean into him. “Even though I made you come harder than you ever have in your life?”
His eyes widen, and I don’t miss the sharp inhale or his Adam’s apple sliding along his throat when he swallows. “Not here.”
I sit back a little in my chair. “Secret friends?”
“No. But the other parts are. Right?” He studies me, and I nod my agreement.
I grin. “You mean the ‘friends who maybe kiss’ part?”
He lowers his voice, but his eyes are damn near amused. “Yes. The kissing and the coming. Those parts should stay out of school.”
“You’re no fun.” I smile, leaning back in my seat and ignoring my friends’ gazes from my lunch table.
He stands up and surprises the hell out of me when he drops his voice low and leans into me. “Now, you know that’s not true. I can be very fun.” He stands up straight, and it’s my turn to breathe heavily. My cock twitches and becomes semi-hard in the middle of the goddamn lunchroom. Then he winks at me before he leaves.
I’m so fucking grateful for my backpack as I pull it quickly into my lap.
He. Actually. Fucking. Winked.
And damn, if my dick isn’t now fully hard.
TWENTY
So, today was weird. I have to admit, Grayson has a massive set of balls on him. Coming over to my lunch table with the entire school in attendance to witness our newfound friendship. And then the fucker wrapped his big-ass arm around me, clearly not caring about the gossip mill.
Of course, no one was even close to the truth from what I heard. Mostly, everyone is just shocked we’re friends after four years of high school. Two guys who are completely opposite becoming friends was the talk of the school.
And Bree and Fletch.
Who would not let up, but what could I say? That he’s the only person I’ve ever felt a sexual draw to? That when he made me come, my vision went totally white and then black, and I swear I saw colors I’d never imagined before?
Because as corny and fucking cliché as that sounds, it’s exactly what happened.
So I skirted around it and then went to the mission with Grayson after school. Now, we’re at my place again, sitting in my car. I don’t know if I should invite him up or what exactly I should do.
Fuck, I’ve never been this awkward in my life.
“Those kids . . .” I turn to look at him, listening to his deep voice full of wonder. “They’re amazing.”
My heart tightens in my chest because I know he’s not spewing bullshit. I can see it on his face. “Yeah.”
He smiles, but it’s sad. “Laney’s really funny. When she opens up, she’s really funny. And smart.”
Damn this guy. I kill the engine and unbuckle my seatbelt, turning toward him. “Yeah. She likes you. She doesn’t talk much.”
“None of them do, right?”
I shake my head. “No. Trust is really hard in the system.”
He unbuckles and turns in his seat so he’s looking into my eyes. The moon is big tonight, so it’s fairly bright in the car. “Tell me about it?”
It’s a question. Not a demand or anything even remotely close. He’s curious. “I don’t like thinking about that time of my life.” He nods and doesn’t push me, which makes me want to tell him more. “But it’s hard. I know there have to be good people out there, that there are good foster parents. Hell, I was adopted by two of them, but . . .”
“Mostly bad?”
I swallow the bile-like feeling in my throat, my stomach squeezing painfully with the reminders. “Yeah.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own, but for whatever reason, I want to tell him more. “My mom ran off early. But my dad . . .” I feel even sicker, thinking about him. “He acted like he wanted to try for a long time. He would fuck up, and I would end up in foster care. The first time was with this elderly couple who weren’t so bad. They were even kind of nice, but all I wanted was to be back home with my dad.”
Grayson listens in silence, paying close attention.
“And my dad would get me back by doing the bare minimum, but it was never long before he’d mess up again. Get arrested or fail a drug test. Lose his job and get us kicked out of our home, which was a shitty little apartment, but he still couldn’t get it together enough to keep it. And each home I’d be placed in was progressively worse.”
He reaches out, surprising me with his touch on my hand, but I quickly recover and allow his comfort.
“Some people were just neglectful. Some were strict, like they thought they could fix us.”
“Fix you?”
I nod, the taste of bile back. “Yeah. Like we were broken kids with no real structure before, so they’d treat us like slaves on a strict schedule. Giving us multiple chores a day. Correcting grammar and belittling us when they looked at our homework. It would have been fine, but it was done with disdain. They beat into us that the way we were raised was wrong. That we were bad.”
“That’s awful.” There’s no pity or judgment in his tone.
“And some liked to hit.”
“Jesus.”