Page 30 of Slew Foot
Rafe figured that was probably positive, since Connor was dating him.
“Yeah, that’s good,” he said.
Connor looked faintly confused but a moment later, the trainer tapped his arm.
“Okay, you’re all set, O’Shea.”
“Thanks.” Connor sat up, grimacing.
“Shoulder trouble?” Rafe asked.
Connor shrugged, reaching for a gray tee with the Harriers’ name across the chest. “It’s one of those nagging things. Comes and goes.”
Rafe nodded. He knew what that was like. His back was always a little fucked up. Honestly, it kinda had been since his last biggrowth spurt. Which, since he was twenty-nine now, had been a very long time ago.
“So,” Connor said, after he put the shirt on and smoothed down his hair. “Reach out if you need anything.”
“Okay,” Rafe promised, sighing when a knot in his back finally loosened. “Sounds good.”
“Glad to have you here, Moon,” Connor said.
“Thanks, man,” Rafe said, reaching out to tap his thigh as he passed. “Glad to be here.”
“Oh, you liveclose,” Rafe said, sounding surprised as Mickey pulled into the complex where he shared an apartment with Tanner and parked.
“Four minutes in clear traffic,” Mickey said with a grin, reaching for the door handle.
But Rafe frowned. “You’ve been going way out of your way to pick me up in the mornings. I’m?—”
Mickey shot him a look, sitting back in his seat and arching his eyebrow.
“Uhh, you don’t have to do that,” Rafe said, like it was finally sinking in Mickey was over the constant apologies.
“True,” Mickey agreed. “I don’t have to pick you up.”
“But youwantto?” Rafe asked. His hands were clenched into fists against the sweats he wore.
“Yes.”
“Oh. Okay.” Rafe’s hands unclenched, the furrows on his brow smoothing away. “Thanks then.”
Mickey got out of the car.
Honestly, he wanted a lot of things. He wanted to push Rafe up against the car and kiss him until his lips were a little swollen and he pressed his cock against Mickey’s thigh.
He wanted this inconvenient crush to disappear.
He wanted Rafe on his knees, wanted to push his cock past the tight constriction of Rafe’s throat, and …
“Uh, Mickey?”
Rafe stood a few feet away, frustratingly handsome and earnest in his sweats and puffy jacket, knitted cap pulled over his wet hair with a few wayward little curls peeking out, his stubble thick and his eyes dark and …
Mickey cleared his throat. “This way.”
He nodded toward the entrance to the building. They emerged into the lobby, and it was bright and modern, with a red tile wall, exposed pipe ceiling, and weirdly shaped information desk in the corner.
The young woman who worked there glanced up from her phone and gave him a friendly wave. He lifted a hand in greeting and watched Rafe smile at her and wave back.
