Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Are you sure I can’t hurt him just a little?”
“No.”
“So I can scare people on campus, but I can’t fuck anyone?”
Why was he always so difficult? “Rafe, can you please just do this for me?”
“Of course, brother dear, but there is absolutely something going on with you and Alex.”
“No, there’s not. He needs help. That’s all there is to it.” I should’ve asked somebody else. Lance would’ve done it for me or Corbin, or even his husband, Beau, but I was so used to always relying on Rafe for help. And now I was going to have to put up with his shit, and he was going to tell Lorenzo. Goddamn, I didn’t need that. “You owe me, and you know it. I don’t want any more questions about this. Just handle it.”
“You mean, you don’t want me calling Lorenzo and telling him all about you and Alex?”
“Rafael, I am—”
“I won’t tell him. You’ll eventually need to tell me more, so I’ll find out one way or another.”
That couldn’t happen because there couldn’t be anything else to tell. “All right, thanks, little bro.”
“You know it. Consider Randall taken care of.”
I ended the call, picked some tomatoes, and stepped back into the kitchen. When I checked on Alex, he was lying down again with his eyes closed. Maybe he would sleep for a bit while I finished making dinner.
I tried to immerse myself in chopping and sautéing, but I couldn’t get rid of the anxiety that had my chest tight and my body buzzing. I laid out the lightly breaded eggplant on the pan and slipped it into the oven to roast, then started the water boiling for the pasta and checked on Alex again.
There was a student in my living room—a student who made very clear he’d like to be in my bed. A student who clearly had a hell of a lot more than I’d imagined going on in his life. A student I wanted. I needed to see if he’d eat some more and then send him to bed. He needed sleep, and I needed him securely closed away in the guest room.
When dinner was almost ready, I heard footsteps and turned to see Alex in the doorway of the kitchen. His color was much improved, and he seemed steady on his feet. “It smells so good.”
“Thank you.” It pleased me more than I wanted to admit that he’d been called by my cooking.
“What is it?”
“It’s pasta alla norma, roasted eggplant in a garlicky tomato sauce.”
Alex frowned.
“You’ll try it and like it. Sit down.”
Alex grinned and did as I said. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d act like an Italian mother if I came to your house.”
“My mom was an amazing cook. I wished I’d been able to learn more from her, but I’m doing all right teaching myself.”
“What happened to your mom?”
“She and my dad died in a car accident when I was twelve. My older brother raised me after that.”
“How old was he when they died?”
“Seventeen. We had other family too—cousins, aunts, and uncles. We managed.”
“I’m sorry. I lost my parents a few years ago. But we weren’t… close. My uncle took me in mainly because he’d wanted a son to mold in his image. That was fun.”
“So you’re on your own now?”
He huffed. “No, between my grandparents and my uncle, I don’t get left alone nearly enough. They have a hell of a lot of expectations for me.”
“And if you don’t follow the expectations?”
“Then I’m on my own for money.”
I nodded.
“I wouldn’t be able to finish school. I wouldn’t—”
I held up a hand. “I’m not judging you for that.”
“Thanks.”
Alex took a bite of the eggplant pasta and groaned. The sound did things to me it shouldn’t. “This is so good, and I don’t even like eggplant. I don’t really like tomatoes, but oh my God, this is so good.”
“I’m glad you like it. It was my mother’s favorite.”
“Oh, that’s sweet.”
I didn’t think anyone had called me sweet since I was a little child. But I liked it. Alex didn’t say much as we continued to eat. He devoured what was on his plate and got more. I was glad to see him eating. Maybe there was something of the Italian mother in me.
When he finished his second plate, he took his dishes to the sink, not something I expected from a frat boy. “You clean up after yourself. I like that.”
Pinkness rose in his cheeks. “My aunt was so awful to the people who worked for her. I liked to help when I could.” He covered his mouth as he yawned. “I think I’m still tired. Where is the guest room?”
“Come on. I’ll show you.” As he followed me, my mind was filled with confusing thoughts about the different facets that made up Alex. He was brilliant, but he was an idiot about taking care of himself. He was in a frat but didn’t seem to like the other guys.