Chapter Twenty-One

Egg

Dan

This was getting goddamn ridiculous.

By Wednesday evening, I still hadn't managed to talk to Rafe. He hadn't answered the door last night, he'd jumped in his car and sped off when I went outside this morning, I had no idea where he'd been all day at work and now I could see that his friend—the tall, skinny one—was over at his place, the familiar car parked behind Rafe's in the driveway.

For the tenth time since getting home, I crept over to the living room window and held my head just past the frame so I could peek out. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to catch a glimpse of, but once again it was nothing. Rafe's living room curtains were shut.

Huffing, I stomped back over to the couch and sat down, dropping my head into my lap. Staring with unseeing eyes at the TV, I wondered whether I should just go over anyway. Hammer on the door until he had no choice but to answer. I could be as rude as Rafe was if I wanted to be.

I'd just never tell my momma.

But no. I didn't think interrupting his evening with his friend would make Rafe more willing to speak to me. He'd just double down and get even more annoyed.

I didn't even know why he was annoyed, and it was frustrating the hell out of me.

It had become a matter of principle at this point. Rafe was going to talk to me. I was going to get him to like me. At least as much as he'd liked me the other day, while his tongue had been in my mouth and his hard dick had been throbbing against mine.

I was charming as shit, damn it. Everyone liked me. Except maybe Crossbody, but he didn't like anyone.

Growing even more restless, I shoved up from the couch and stalked into the kitchen. Staying close to the wall, I held my head out until I could peek through the window. The blinds in Rafe's kitchen were closed.

This was bullshit. He couldn't ignore me forever.

Frowning, I tucked my head under my arm and yanked open my fridge to grab a beer. Maybe I'd go and sit on my deck to unwind. Maybe Rafe's back door would be open and I'd be able to hear them talking. They'd been talking about me on the phone the other day. I'd heard his friend call me Big Dick Dan.

I pouted as I stepped out onto the deck, lip curling when I glanced at the fence now obstructing my view of Rafe's yard.

Apparently my big dick wasn't good enough for a repeat. Apparently my big dick wasn't impressive enough for Rafe to acknowledge me, even after he'd had his hand all over it.

Maybe it's too big, I thought, which made me feel a little better. Intimidating, even.

From what I'd seen over the last three years, he hadn't dated a guy in a while. I'd only ever noticed women spending the night at his place, hence my assuming all this time that he was straight. Maybe he was just a little nervous about getting back in the saddle, so to speak.

Setting my beer bottle down, I grabbed my head and stepped quietly off the deck. Padding over the grass, I stopped in front of my fence, then slowly lifted my head high until I could peek over the top.

They weren't sitting on the back deck. I couldn't see anyone in the kitchen either at first, until movement through the small window on the door caught my eye. I eagerly shuffled closer to the fence, hissing out a, "Fuck," when my knee banged into it and my nose bashed against the top of the panel.

When the person inside looked over at the sound, I realised it was the friend, not Rafe. He stepped towards the door, squinting as he peered out into the dark. I yanked my head back down, grunting in pain when my nostrils scraped over the panel, and hurriedly backed away.

Stomping back up the steps, I threw myself into my chair and shoved my head onto my neck so I could drink my beer. I sipped it slowly and moodily, straining my ears for any tiny sound from next door.

Eventually, I wandered back inside when I started to get cold. I had just stepped into the living room, weirdly irritated and not sure what to do with myself, when I finally heard sounds outside.

I almost tripped over the coffee table as I lunged for the window. Ducking underneath it, I tried to angle my head so I could see Rafe's front porch. It wasn't the best view, so I placed my head on the sill and reached up to slowly ease the window open.

When I poked my head sideways out of the gap, just up to my eyes, I could see Rafe's friend standing on the porch. Rafe was in the doorway, leaning his shoulder on the frame. He was barefoot, wearing sweats and a cute, dorky T-shirt with some game logo on the front. His newly pink hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and he was fiddling with his eyebrow piercing as he nodded at something his friend said.

A surprisingly strong sensation twisted my gut at the sight of him. Not wanting to examine that too deeply, I ignored it and pricked up my ears, trying to hear what they were saying.

And whether they were talking about me.

"…looked like he had a donkey dick," his friend was saying. I smirked.

Oh yeah. They were definitely talking about me.

"The billy goat beard isn't really my thing, though," the friend continued, and my smile faltered as a frown twitched my brows.

Okay, maybe they… weren't talking about me.

"He said he'd seen us there last week."

Rafe snorted. "I remember him. He was a creep. So he just flat-out propositioned you at the grocery store?"

"Yeah, while I was picking a sandwich. He said, ‘I saw you and your cute friend here the other day. How's about I become the filling in that tasty little sandwich?'"

Rafe burst out laughing, and I abruptly realised it was the first time I'd ever heard a genuine laugh from him. It was surprisingly loud and brash, with a cute little snort. My chest grew weirdly tight, but then my frown deepened when I processed what his friend had said. Who the hell was this dude with a billy goat beard and a donkey dick trying to have a threesome with Rafe?

"What did you say?" Rafe asked, still chuckling.

His friend was laughing too as he told him, "Well, I was pretty creeped out, so I just said, ‘That's a really weird thing to say to someone in the middle of a grocery store, dude.' And he said, ‘You can get weird in the middle of my grocery store any day of the week, baby.' So I just forgot about the sandwich and noped it out of there."

"Ew, what the fuck?" Rafe was laughing again, and I found myself smiling at the sound of it.

"Yeah, so maybe we find a new place to buy groceries, dude."

Rafe huffed and grumbled, "But that's the only one nearby that sells Carolina Reapers. I refuse to make my hot sauce with anything lower on the Scoville Scale."

Rafe made his own hot sauce? It wasn't all that interesting, I supposed, but I found myself absorbing the tiny scrap of information about him greedily.

I really didn't know that much about him, despite us having been neighbours for years, and now I kind of wanted to find out more. Wasn't sure why.

"We'll go in disguise and stock up," the friend was saying. "Don't forget you promised me two bottles this time when you make your next batch."

"I remember." Rafe was smiling. Properly smiling. It was still small, but it was unguarded and made my belly clench again. "Drive safe, bro."

"Will do." They briefly hugged, before the friend turned to make his way off the porch. Rafe stepped back and closed the door.

I stayed where I was for a second, then yanked my head back, smacking my cheek on the window frame. Straightening, I shoved my head on and hurriedly strode for the door.

Rafe's friend was heading down the porch steps when I stepped outside. He pressed the button on his key, making his car chirp as its lights flashed, then jumped out of his skin when I called out.

"Hey there." I fixed my most charming grin on my face as I strode across my front lawn toward him. He was clearly into guys, right? If he'd noticed some creep's donkey dick at the grocery store? If a dude was into dudes, I could, without fail, charm the pants off him.

Seriously, I'd never failed.

Not that I wanted to get the pants off this guy, but I did want some information.

"Oh crap," I heard him croak, before he started walking twice as fast toward his car.

Oh hell no. I'd learned my lesson from this morning. I started running, not caring if I looked slightly unhinged.

The friend squawked and started running too, almost tripping over his own long legs. I managed to reach his driver's side door before he did and leaned my elbow casually on the car roof as he skidded to a stop in front of me.

"Hey there," I repeated with a grin, pretending I wasn't slightly out of breath from sprinting across my yard to stop him leaving. "You're Rafe's buddy, right?"

"This is serial killer behaviour, man," he blurted, breathing hard. "You don't just start chasing a dude through the dark like that."

"I wasn't chasing you," I replied smoothly. "I just… want to talk."

He shifted anxiously from foot to foot, gaze darting longingly to his car behind me. "Um, nah. No thanks. I'm good."

"Won't take up too much of your time," I said in an overly cheerful tone, then held out my hand. "Don't think I've ever had the pleasure. I'm Dan."

He hesitated, glancing back at Rafe's house, then sighed and briefly grasped my hand. "Neville."

"Neville," I repeated with a wide grin. "Nice name. Pleasure to meet you, Neville."

He blushed. Oh yeah, I could charm this guy easy.

But then he exhaled forcefully and shot me a little glare. "Look, I'm not going to talk to you about Rafe."

"Neville," I said with a chuckle, shaking my head. "Neville, Neville, Neville. We're just having a friendly little chat."

"About what?" he asked nervously.

I paused, drumming my fingers on the roof of his car, then eventually began, "I was just wondering if Rafe had—"

"Nope." Neville tried to reach for the door handle. I smoothly stepped in front of it.

"Neville," I repeated brightly. "I'm just a little confused, is all. Rafe and I, uh, finally started getting along pretty good—"

Neville snorted, crossing his arms and shooting me a derisive scowl. I paused, not sure what that look meant, before continuing.

"—and now, for some reason, he won't talk to me. Just as I thought we were on our way to becoming buddies." I tried giving him an ingratiating smile.

This wasn't exactly going how I'd thought it would.

"Buddies," he repeated flatly.

My brows twitched. "Uh… yeah?"

We'd hung out all afternoon on Monday. Wasn't that what buddies did?

Plus, we'd engaged in some light frotting. Technically, only really good buddies did that.

After a moment of silence, Neville sighed and scrubbed his face. "Look, I get that your whole deal is—" He waved a hand in my general direction. "—this."

My nostrils flared. I didn't know whether I was supposed to be offended or not.

"But come on, man," he continued, frowning at me. "You could've been a little more sensitive about it, all things considered."

I stared at him, nonplussed. All things considered? What did he mean by that? Sensitive about what? About Rafe being embarrassed over trying to kiss me while drunk? I thought I had been. I'd told him I would've kissed him back if he hadn't been drunk. I'd made it pretty damn clear I wanted it too. I'd even kissed him in the end.

"I was," I said slowly, trying not to let my temper rise.

Neville snorted incredulously. "Dude, it was his first time and you strolled out ten fucking seconds after nutting. That was a really shitty thing to do."

I frowned. "It wasn't ten seconds." Then the rest of what he'd said registered, and I stared at him in confusion.

Was he seriously trying to tell me that Rafe had been a complete virgin ? I barked out a harsh laugh, but I was actually starting to feel a little ill, because something wasn't adding up.

"And that wasn't Rafe's first time having sex, for fuck's sake," I scoffed. "I live next door to him. I've heard him having sex before."

That sick feeling grew when I realised Neville was staring at me with a stricken expression.

"Oh crap," he croaked, darting a look at Rafe's house. Guilt filled his eyes. I recognised it immediately, because I was suddenly feeling it too, deep in the pit of my stomach, as realisation slowly dawned.

I wet my lips. "Are you saying—"

"I'm not talking to you anymore." Neville lunged for his car door handle again. I quickly blocked it, because no goddamn way was I letting him leave now.

"Had Rafe never—"

"Lalalala, I'm not listening! Not listening! I'm just going to keep talking so I can't hear you!" Neville gave up trying to reach his door and ran around the hood of his car, yanking open the passenger side door.

"Oh hell no," I growled, striding after him. "You ain't leaving yet, Neville."

"You're acting like a serial killer again!" He shut the door and slammed his fist down on the lock, then clambered across to the driver's seat.

Grunting in irritation, I leaned my palms on the hood and glared at him through the windshield. "I know you can still hear me, Neville." I was acting a little unhinged, so I tried to smooth my expression back into a charming smile. "Look. Neville—Can I call you Nev?"

"Leave me alone!" He turned on the engine. "I'm not telling you anything."

I growled. "I just want to know—"

The hood suddenly jerked out from under my hands as he started reversing off the driveway. I stumbled, lips peeling back in a snarl as I quickly righted myself and glared at the car, squinting when its headlights pierced my eyes.

Neville backed onto the road and lowered his window.

"Fuckboy!" he yelled, but it was kind of timid, like he was scared to put his whole chest into it. It still made me bristle. Then his arm appeared out the window and swung forcefully.

I didn't know what the fuck he was doing, and I didn't have time to react before something crunchy nailed me in the chest. Wetness seeped through my shirt. Neville clapped a hand over his mouth, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done. I slowly looked down and saw raw egg dripping gooily down my front, the yolk leaving a long trail of yellow on my white T-shirt. Pieces of shell clung to the fabric, the rest splattered on the ground by my feet.

That little shit had just thrown an egg at me.

My head whipped back up as my nostrils flared in outrage.

"Neville," I growled threateningly as I started striding down the driveway toward his car. I was definitely acting at least somewhat unhinged at this point, but he'd just thrown a fucking egg at me.

I heard him squeak before he hit the gas, his car shooting forward. Chest heaving, I stared after it for a few seconds, then turned and strode all the way back up the driveway and right onto Rafe's porch, intent on hammering on his front door until he answered.

With my fist raised and poised to knock, I realised all the lights were off downstairs. I faltered, slowly lowering my hand as my irritation abruptly faded and the sick, guilty feeling in my gut returned. Worsened.

Had the other night really been Rafe's first time with another guy?

I swallowed and took a step back, rubbing a hand over my chest until I remembered the fucking egg and grimaced as I pulled my yolk- and albumen-covered fingers away.

I hadn't realised. I hadn't thought about it. When he'd started watching me at night and then tried to kiss me, I'd just figured I'd always been wrong in assuming he was straight. Looking back now, I realised there were signs I'd missed that night, and I cringed as I shoved a hand through my hair, then bit back a curse when I yet again remembered the fucking egg too late.

Shit. Yeah, there'd been signs. Signs I hadn't thought about at the time, because I'd been too horny to take a second and realise what they might've meant.

How hesitant he'd seemed at first. How much his hand had been trembling when I'd shoved it down my pants—not with overwhelming lust, like I'd so arrogantly assumed, but probably with nerves. How stunned he'd seemed by the sensation of my cock pinned against his. How shocked and vulnerable his cry had been when I made him come.

My chest ached, so I rubbed it again with my egg-covered hand as I took another step back from the door, brows pinching. I winced when I remembered what Neville had said.

" It was his first time and you strolled out ten fucking seconds after nutting. "

Fuck. I had. I'd just figured… we'd both gotten what we wanted, and that he was probably eager to go to bed after having a nice orgasm. He'd still looked overly pale and a little hungover, and it wasn't like Rafe was ever a big talker.

Damn. I'd fucked up.

Bad.

Exhaling, I turned and walked quietly off his porch, wiping my hand on the hem of my shirt. I'd already been such an asshole to him. I couldn't be even more of one by hammering on his front door late at night, demanding he talk to me.

I got why he didn't want to talk to me now. Why he was pissed at me.

I was pissed at me too. My momma would definitely be pissed at me if she knew what an insensitive tool I'd been. She'd raised me to be a gentleman.

Which I was. Most of the time. Sometimes I definitely wasn't, but not in situations like this. I didn't make a habit of steamrolling over the important and meaningful moments in people's lives without acknowledging them or their feelings.

But that was exactly what I'd done to Rafe.

I felt like shit when I got back inside my house. I felt restless. I wanted to go and fix things with Rafe now , apologise and get us back on track to becoming friends, but I knew I couldn't. Yet.

Despite the late hour, I considered calling Vince to talk about it, just so I wasn't sitting here with my thumb up my ass. I knew he'd be up—he didn't sleep much. When I'd moved in here and seen that my neighbour was a ghoul like him, I'd assumed Rafe was the same, which was why I'd never really thought about how loud I was at night.

Fuck. I really had been a dick neighbour.

I couldn't talk to Vince about it anyway, I realised glumly as I wandered into my kitchen to wash my hands. I was pretty sure Rafe would be furious if he found out I'd told anyone what had happened, and besides, it wasn't my business to share. I'd already inadvertently caused Rafe's friend to accidentally out him. Which just cemented my dick status even more.

And Neville was definitely going to tell him about our conversation. There was no way he wouldn't. Fuck. I had a goddamn mountain to climb if I wanted to get Rafe to ever like me.

Good thing I was a determined bastard.

Emphasis, it seemed, on the ‘bastard.'