“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “The hallway seemed like the place to sit until the walls stop shaking.”
“I would probably have asked if I could join in.” Her eyes twinkled at me. “But that’s just me.”
I managed to smile instead of swallowing my tongue. I’d been raised in a home where sex was just not talked about. It’s not like I’d ever made a conscious choice to be a prude. I just didn’t know how not to be one.
Bella stood. “Come on, then. You can tell me the rest of your sob story upstairs.”
“What?”
She beckoned. “I have furniture. And also glasses.” She hefted the champagne bottle and picked up my gift bag. “On your feet.” Then, without waiting to see what I’d do, she turned and walked up the stairs.
Four
Bella
For a second I wasn’t sure if he was going to follow me. But after a moment of hesitation, I heard Rafe trudging up the stairs behind me. That was good, because I really did not want to be alone tonight, brooding over all my uncertainties.
The staircase wound up into the eaves of the old building, growing narrow at the top. Up here there were just two rooms — mine and another single, its door ajar. Strains of classical music could be heard from a stereo within.
“Evening, Lianne,” I said in the direction of my neighbor’s door. “I have a friend over in case you wanted to join us.”
Silence.
I smiled to myself. I’d been deliberately vague about what it was Lianne might join us for. Generally I considered myself a nice person. But Lianne’s distaste for my personal life had rubbed me the wrong way since move-in day.
My neighbor didn’t approve of the frequency with which men turned up in my room. Her serious frown could often be seen through her open door as I passed by with one of the hockey players who sometimes shared my bed. Both our rooms opened onto a tiny, shared bathroom, and Lianne had once gotten an eyeful of a bare-assed guy in our shower. Her mouth had zipped into a straight, disapproving line.
Lianne thought I was a total slut.
For her part, Lianne seemed to live like a monk. Not only had I never seen her with a guy, she didn’t seem to have friends at all.
“Goodnight,” I called into the crack of her open door.
There was no response.
Whatevs.
Unlocking my door, I propped it open for Rafe. Then I dropped his shiny paper bag on my bed and fetched two dining hall glasses from my desk drawer. I poured the champagne slowly, tipping the glasses so that it wouldn’t fizz up. Into my glass, I only poured a little, since I’d had a couple of beers already. His I filled to the top.
Rafe followed me into the room a moment later, shutting the door behind him. What a hottie he was, with big dark eyes set into a handsome face. Rafe was a soccer player, and he totally had that soccer look. He wasn’t as bulky as the hockey players I usually hung around with, but he carried his muscular body in a way I found absolutely sexy.
Also? There was something to be said for guys who could run for two hours straight. Endurance was an excellent trait in a guy…
Rafe glanced around. “Your room is so cool. I love the slanting ceilings.”
“Mmm,” I said noncommittally. Those ceilings could dole out a vicious bump to the head — or to other body parts — if you weren’t careful.
I handed a glass to Rafe, and then sat down on the bed, my back to the wall. “Sit already,” I told him.
Rafe’s eyes darted around the room for a second, and I saw him doing the math. Aside from the bed, my desk chair was the only other option. And it had about seven books stacked onto its seat.
“Right here,” I told him, patting the space beside me. I needed this tonight — a chance encounter with an obviously lonely guy. A distraction.
A hook-up, if I played my cards right. And I always played them right.
“I don’t bite,” I assured him. “But I do want you to tell me why you’re all dressed up, carrying around a bottle of bubbly and…” I picked up the bag in my free hand and dumped it onto the bed. Two things slid out: a small box with a fancy ribbon around it and an unopened box of condoms. Uh-oh. “Huh. Looks like you had a big night planned. What happened?”
Sitting down beside me, Rafe groaned. “It’s too embarrassing to talk about.”
Aw. “I’m sorry. I’m quite familiar with humiliation, actually.”
He glanced up quickly, surprise on his face. “Challenge.”
“Seriously? My humiliations could arm-wrestle yours to the ground one-handed while singing Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You.’”