Page 2 of Kiss-Fist
‘I need to leave.’
‘I can lock up,’ Rome tells me, grabbing his keys from the nightstand.
I don’t know why it bothers me that he has a key to my place. I gave it to him last time I went out of town and needed help watering my plants. ‘I’ll take it back now.’
He doesn’t look offended, which is maybe the reason I feel like this has run its course. He twists the key off the loop and sets it down beside my phone. ‘Text me later?’
‘I’m going to be busy for a while.’ This comes across like a cop-out, but it’s notnottrue. Not only do I have classes weighing down on me to the point I want to cry, but now I have to look for a new place to live.
All this change is going to put me in an early grave.
Rome cocks his head to the side, tapping ayhand shape in the air—a sign that can be interpreted as ‘oh I see.’ His lipsmake their little ‘peh-peh’ motion as he signs it. ‘If you change your mind, you know my number.’
I’m not going to tell him that won’t happen. Fuck only knows when I’ll need a good distraction again. Like I said, this isn’t really doing it for me anymore, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not old. And I’m certainly not dead. I’m not even retirement age. My dick still works, and it still needs attention some days.
But as much as I hate to even put this out there in the universe, I might need something else. Something deeper.
Fuck, that sounds so disgusting. No. I’m not dealing with this right now. I quickly usher him toward the door, and he doesn’t go in for a kiss, thank god. Hell, I don’t even get a lingering Deaf goodbye. He just strolls out, shooting a wave over his shoulder without looking back.
His little black sports car is waiting for him in one of the guest spots, and he gets in. I swear I can feel the rumble of the engine in my chest as he starts and revs it the way he always does. I close the door quickly before he can look back and see that I’m still watching him, and I sag against the wall until I remember thatshit!
I’m fucking late!
Glancing at the delivery and drop-off circle on campus, I see the Deaf Chef food truck with its colorful logo and bright awning. I’m entirely unsurprised to see the man I waslooking for lounging against the side with a smug grin on his face.
Rhett signs something to the guy in the window, then laughs and shrugs and tries to look demure but fails. Looking demure is absolutely not him. At all.
He’s annoyingly in your face and loud. Demure? Fuck off.
I snort and move forward.
As I do, I see Mellie lean out and wave his hand, blushing a little. I should be more disturbed by this weird role-play shit they’re engaging in, but I can’t be. Not when a sudden move is looming over me. Cardboard and bubble wrap and…oh god.Movers.
And that’s right before the realization that I’m over this whole no-strings hookup thing.
Which means what? Did Rome and I break up? Was that a thing between friends with benefits? Did I need to give him time before moving on to just friends?
I’m such a disaster. I have no idea how any of this stuff works.
I make sure my feet stomp a little harder as I approach, and Rhett turns his head. When he sees me, he rolls his eyes and waves his hand to Mellie at the window. ‘He’s here.’ He points his finger twice at me to emphasize.
He winks at me and then signs, ‘Asshole.’
I kick a rock at him, and it bounces off his shoe.
I’d like to think my presence fills people with dread, but sadly, it doesn’t. I’ve been working at a community college for too long. Workingwithstudents, notagainstthem, is the only way I can ensure their success, and being dreadful and scary doesn’t help.
But it would be nice if I could still be more than just a soft, wet sponge when it comes to my friends.
‘Why do you look like you need to take a shit?’ Rhett asks, and I purse my lips before loosening them.
‘Because I’m looking at you.’
He grins at me and pushes off the food truck, not intimidated by me at all. Damn it.
We’ve been friends for too long for him to be bothered by my moods—not that he ever was, the dick—and I’ve known Mellie since residential school when we were both knee-high and snot-nosed, so yeah. He’s seen me at my best, but he’s also seen me at my worst.
And my worst is…not great.
