The Shameless Hour (The Ivy Years #4)

“She didn’t like Alison?”

Rafe grimaced. “They never met. But Alison comes from money. She was this fancy California girl, you know? I always thought it didn’t matter to her, though. We hit it off right away last year. We had fun together. But she’s sleeping with Mr. Rolex.”

“And you,” I pointed out. It seemed possible that Rafe was taking this whole social divide thing a little too far.

Rafe looked down at his hands. “Not today,” he mumbled. “Though I guess it’s better to find out first, I guess.”

“Not hardly!” I yelped. “If you’re going to have your heart broken, at least you could get sweaty first. Instead, you get betrayal with a side order of sexual frustration.”

He sipped his wine, a stoic expression on his face. “Nobody ever died from sexual frustration.”

I was pretty sure I’d come close a few times, but I kept that to myself. “There must be some way you could get revenge,” I teased him. “Let’s steal her phone, and break up with her fuck buddy via text message.

He chuckled. “You are evil.”

“Only when it’s deserved. And revenge is very cathartic.” I mimed someone texting on a phone. “Sorry Mr. Rolex, but you’re just not that good in bed. I’ll call you if I’m feeling desperate.”

Rafe shook his head. “At least I can return the earrings.” He tossed the little jewelry box back into the gift bag. “Couldn’t really afford them. But I wanted to get her something nice. I thought we were going to be together for a long time.”

“And that is why I do not do relationships.” Because some nice person like you comes around to remind me why it’s a bad idea.

Rafe cocked his head to the side. “How’s that working for you? I think it’s your turn to tell me an embarrassing story. Because I’m pretty sure I’m winning this bet.”

“Not hardly.” The truth was that my humiliation could dance the cha-cha around his. But I’d already decided to keep the worst of it to myself. Instead, I was going to tell my second most humiliating tale.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’d never repeat it.”

He wouldn’t, either. Rafe had one of the more trustworthy faces I’d ever come across. There was something serious in his expression that I didn’t often find in men our age.

With a fortifying gulp of champagne, I told him about the ugly morning I’d had last January. “I have a friend, but he and I used to be friends with benefits. We’d stopped fooling around a year earlier, though. His decision. And he never really said why…”

I got lost there for a second, picturing myself in Graham’s room, removing his clothes. We were usually drunk and giddy. Getting Graham’s jeans off his body when he was wasted wasn’t easy. But I was happy to do it. Graham only liked to have sex when he was trashed. That should have been a clue. Maybe there were other clues, too. But I never saw them. I’d always had a blind spot when it came to Graham.

Rafe was waiting patiently for my story to continue. I’d never talked about this. Not with anyone. But there was something steady in his expression that made it possible for me to go on. “I was hung up on him,” I admitted. I’d never said that out loud before, either. And it wasn’t easy. College was too early, in my opinion, to get all swoony over a guy. That never worked out.

But still, I’d hoped.

“Even though we weren’t fooling around anymore, I always thought that some day we’d get together and stay that way. Because he understood me in a way most people don’t. We were such close friends, too. We told each other everything. At least that’s what I thought.”

I had to swallow hard then.

“You really don’t have to tell me,” Rafe said gently.

Christ. I obviously wasn’t as good at putting a brave face on things as I imagined. I cleared my throat. “I walked in on him hooking up with somebody else.”

“That sucks,” Rafe said softly.

I held up a hand. “That’s not the point. I never thought he was celibate after we stopped fucking. The problem was that I walked in on him with a man.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. That’s not where I thought this story was going.”

“Me neither.” I gave a nervous laugh.

“Maybe it was just a one-time thing. Or maybe he’s bi.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t. And he isn’t. He has a serious boyfriend now. They’re ridiculously happy together. And when I saw them that morning…” I broke off, because it was impossible to express. I just knew. All of a sudden, I understood what I hadn’t wanted to see before. For all the sloppy, drunk sex we’d had, it had never meant a thing to him.