Especially since that dangerous ground was becoming more and more treacherous by the day. It was harmless enough for Rafa to have a crush on him. It sure as hell wasn’t for Shane to have a crush of his own. And of course he didn’t. The idea was absolutely absurd.
Yet that night at the river, when Rafa had touched him—only an innocent touch of his hand on Shane’s arm—Shane had felt it right down to his balls. And on the drive back to Castle, he’d been compelled to share an embarrassing story about falling in a pool at a barbecue in college while trying to balance a case of beer on his head. It had made Rafa laugh and wrinkle up his nose, and Shane wanted to tell him more personal stories.
He shook his head. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone and wanted to spend so much time with them. Of course the irony was that he’d be spending hours a day with Rafa, and it was time to get his shit together and stop blurring the lines.
But he couldn’t just not show tonight—not when Rafa was making avocado soup because it was Shane’s favorite. He could imagine how Rafa’s face would fall if he didn’t show. As he started up the stairs, his pulse fluttered uneasily. Christ. What do I have to be nervous about? Go eat the soup and call it a day.
The smell of roasting tomatoes—and mmm, bacon—filled the third floor. Shane stopped in the doorway as he reached the kitchen and watched Rafa ladle soup into a bowl with great concentration. Rafa wore jeans and a worn green T-shirt, with flip-flops on his feet. His hair was unfortunately still slicked down, and Shane wondered if he’d ever see it curly again with a strange pang of regret. The denim hugged Rafa’s slim hips and the curve of his ass, and Shane mused about what kind of underwear Rafa had on…
As heat rushed through him, Shane jerked his gaze up and cleared his throat.
Rafa’s face lit up as he glanced over. “Oh! Hey, Shane. The soup’s almost ready. I’ve just got to…” He reached for a small bowl. “I cooked and diced a few strips of bacon as garnish. Thought it was worth a try.”
“Bacon’s always worth a try.”
Rafa laughed. “That’s what I figured. And I made the roasted tomatoes and basil again, but this time with Boursin instead of goat cheese. So you can tell me which one’s better. But here, soup first.” He thrust out a spoon and handed Shane the bowl.
“Aren’t you going to have any?” Shane hesitated. Rafa had a habit of just watching him intently, and it could be unnerving at times. Largely because he looked at Shane like Fred Flintstone eyeing a rack of brontosaurus ribs.
“Oh, yeah.” Rafa went back to ladling.
Shane took a mouthful of the soup. “Mmm. Damn, that’s good.” The creaminess of the cold avocado and the salty hint of warm bacon was perfect.
“Really?”
Nodding, Shane had another spoonful. And another. As he ate, Rafa talked. Everyone thought of him as so quiet, but once he got going, he wasn’t so shy, and he had a lot of interesting things to say.
“And we’re talking about the actual King of England here. I seriously almost tripped him in the entrance hall. But he was just like, ‘Steady on, old chap. Pip, pip,’ or something ridiculously British. And this other time, you won’t believe what I saw in the Blue Room.”
Shane chuckled as Rafa continued. Rafa talked with his hands, his voice never getting very loud, but his eyes sparkling. His teeth were even and white, and gleamed as he smiled.
“Oh, I watched that movie—Endless Summer? You’re right, it was really cool even though it was old.”
“Glad to hear it. It’s dated, but it’s a classic.” Why should he care if Rafa liked the movie or not? It made no sense whatsoever, but Shane was pleased. “There was a sequel too. From the nineties, I think. Kelly Slater’s early era.”
Rafa’s face lit up. “Kelly Slater? He’s a legend. I still have a poster of him in my room.” He laughed nervously. “Wow. That sounds super lame. It’s from when we first moved in. I just haven’t bothered taking it down. I’m not…I don’t put up posters anymore.”
“It’s okay. My old room at my folks’ house was like a time machine.” As the words left his mouth, he tensed. He never talked about his parents, but with Rafa the words somehow just came out. Somehow it felt…safe. Shane kept his gaze on his shoes.
But Rafa didn’t push the subject, instead simply saying, “Thanks for understanding. Okay, that’s totally next on my list. Have you seen Riding Giants? Laird Hamilton was a beast. I wonder if he still surfs. He’s gotta be sixty-five by now.”