“I’m sorry, okay?” Mitch yelled, patting his head as if were still aflame, all jittery as he crawled into the corner to join the other cockroaches.
Jason raised his hands. “Won’t happen again.”
“It won’t because you’re both taking your shit and moving out,” Shane roared before stalling with his mouth slightly open as he glanced Ros’s way. “Unless… Ros wants to go instead…?”
This was the time to come back to reality. Shane’s offer was one Ros couldn’t take. “I can’t afford anything else,” he mumbled.
“You could take my room,” Shane said, as if he’d been prepared for that question.
After this not-so-gallant yet glorious outburst of violence, Ros wouldn’t even consider humiliating Shane by telling him they weren’t getting back together in front of these two maggots. But that didn’t mean Ros would allow him back into his life like some sucker.
“Thanks, I’m staying.”
Shane’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t miss a beat and glared at the frightened men. “So you go. Pack up, or my dog’s gonna have some free meat to feed on.”
Shane had told Ros he’d never killed anyone, but this threat didn’t sound empty either. Better to not overthink it.
Jason, who usually slept until midday and didn’t rush a single activity, was out of the door as if he were competing in the Olympics, while Mitch moved like an injured wolf, but his muzzle remained shut as he disappeared down the corridor.
Ros took a long breath and leaned against the counter, suddenly weak in the knees. “That was amazing, but I still hate you. I told you to stay away.”
Shane’s features twisted as he contemplated Ros’s words, but he must have come to some sort of conclusion, because he took a deep breath and stepped toward him, one hand resting on the edge of the counter, right by Ros’s hip. “I can’t.”
Goosebumps travelled all the way up Rosen’s arm, as if those thick fingers stroked him, but he wouldn’t crack. “There’s a hundred pretty boys out there for you. You don’t need me anymore. My dad hates me, so there’s nothing for you to gain here.”
“I made a mistake, okay?” Shane snapped but didn’t attempt to touch Ros despite standing so close. His tongue slid from between his lips and licked along their seam. “I can’t take it back, but I miss you,” he said with intense green eyes pinned to Rosen’s
“You do?” Rosen asked as bile gathered at the back of his throat. “You can always rewatch that video. You know, the one where I’m begging you to let me go.” He didn’t want to remember. He shouldn’t even want to look at Shane, yet he stood in place, inhaling Shane’s scent, because it brought him peace regardless of all logic.
This man was a human wrecking ball. Was it fucked up that Ros found it so hard to resist him?
“I obviously deleted it!” Shane closed his eyes and took a deep breath before leaning in to stare into Ros’s eyes as if he expected them to reveal the truth about Rosen’s feelings. “I’m not that guy, okay? I hated how you treated me when your dad was around, and I just—I don’t fucking know what I was thinking!”
Even though the video incriminated Shane and didn’t show anything Ros should’ve been ashamed of, it brought him relief to know that it didn't exist anymore. He’d had a tumultuous month to cool off and focus on other things, but now that the evidence of what happened was gone, it brought him a step closer to forgetting about it. Life was armed with sharp blades that kept him distracted, but when everything felt helpless, or shortly before sleep, when his self-control weakened, he’d think about the Shane he thought he’d known—the one who might be rough around the edges but had a good heart beating in that muscular chest. Too bad that man wasn’t real.
“I came out because I couldn’t stand Dad’s hypocrisy anymore. It didn’t matter whether you were in the picture or not, or if I hated you for lying to me. I believe my dad did what you said he did, and I don’t want anything to do with a man like that. I can see you’re trying to do something here, but I don’t know how I could ever trust you again. I don’t know why you’re here.”
Shane exhaled. Looked away. And then leaned in, pressing his soft lips to Ros’s.
His toes curled, the hairs on his nape stood to attention, and Ros instinctively put his fingertips on Shane’s chest. He’d missed this so bad. The Shane from before the whole mess. When he closed his eyes, the bitter memory of Shane pressing him into a dirty mattress in a cold container—
Ros pushed him away. “You should go,” he mumbled and slid along the counter to create more distance. If he’d learned one thing about himself this year, it was that he was stupid and naive. His instincts would fail him and needed to be countered with reason.