13. Caleb

THIRTEEN

AS THE SUN finally disappeared for the day, night crept in through the windows of the condo, bathing it in lights and shadows from the city outside. It was always an interesting juxtaposition to be looking out at the bustling streets from up here and be met with nothing but silence.

I had the place to myself. Travis was never one to do something as mundane as stay home on a school night and study. So I took the opportunity to leave my bedroom and venture out to the living area to set up for the next few hours.

With my French press and mug, I chose a seat at the dining table that was never used and clicked open on the first of several sociology links our professor had given us to research for our upcoming essay, and winced at the length of the paper.

I couldn't wait to be done with school and do something I actually enjoyed. This course was a mandatory one for my degree, but the sooner I could get it over with and focus on photography only, the better.

Although learning about the consequences of human behavior was something I probably could stand to have a few lessons in, since I was constantly trying to understand the reason Travis was the way he was.

I reached for the French press and poured myself a cup of coffee, and had settled in to read the mind-numbing paper when the door to our condo swung open and laughter spilled in to my silent space.

Great. This was exactly what I'd been hoping to avoid tonight. Another go-around with Travis and one—or several—of his crowd.

They didn't need a degree to know that their future was set for them, and technically I didn't either, I supposed, but unlike them, I wanted one. I knew how lucky I was, but I didn't want to just skate by on the trust fund Dad had put aside for me. He and Vera had taught me and Travis better than that. We'd been taught to understand our privilege. To be humble, not a Mr. Braggerton about it unlike some people I knew, who along the way had led Travis down the path of self-indulgence.

I wanted to work. I wanted a career, and the quickest way to do that was to graduate.

Something I wouldn't be able to do with Travis and his yahoo friends invading my study space every night. I was about to tell them just that when Travis stepped out of the foyer and into the main living area, hand in hand with a man.

There was something familiar about the guy trailing after Travis in a fuzzy, off-the-shoulder purple sweater and low skinny jeans. I just couldn't pinpoint what.

I sat still as a statue as they made their way into the kitchen, my pulse pounding as I tried to think of a way out of this, and quick, because right now they were completely oblivious to my presence—which, knowing Travis, meant they would probably have each other's clothes off in the next few minutes.

"So…" Travis turned around to face his plaything, the lights from outside illuminating his teasing smirk. Damn he looked good. I hated that I even noticed how attractive he was when he wasn't glaring, and it had my dick jerking unexpectedly between my legs.

The fuck?

That was unwanted.

One appreciative look at Travis and now I was hard up for him?

"You up for a drink, or…" Travis trailed off.

"Mmm, definitely or."

Oh, for fuck's sake. If the floor could just open up and swallow me whole, that would be great—preferably before this guy swallowed Travis whole.

"Well, that's easy enough."

"And so am I."

Travis chuckled, and the sound seemed to vibrate through me, making my wayward cock throb harder—a reaction that was out of left field. It was like I'd been possessed, or taken over by some outside force, because there was no way I was sitting here watching Travis flirting with some random and getting hard.

"You shouldn't tell me things like that," Travis said. "I might take advantage."

"Might?" Mr. Easy teased. "What should I say then to make sure you will?"

Damn it. I needed to get out of here. But with Mr. Easy walking backward out of the kitchen and luring Travis away from alcohol with the promise of a whole different kind of buzz, it seemed my fate was sealed.

Why didn't I just get up the second I heard the door open? It would've been way less conspicuous than standing up now, when the two of them were in the process of getting their freak on.

Mr. Easy moved into the center of the living room directly opposite me, and I'd never wished for a quick and early death as hard as I did right then.

He smoothed his hands over Travis's chest where his shimmering leopard-print shirt was unbuttoned.

"You know, I wasn't sure I'd hear from you again after the welcome party."

Ooh, shit.

That was where I knew him from. He was the crop top guy who'd been glued to Travis on the dance floor that night, his leg twined around Travis's like climbing ivy—not that I'd been looking.

"Been a little bit busy," Travis told him. "But I'm all yours right now."

I gripped the handle of my coffee mug a bit tighter as Crop Top moved in close to rock his hips against Travis's.

"I can feel that," he said, grinding a little harder. Travis thrust forward, a low growl rumbling out of him, and I…

…spilled my damn coffee all over my laptop.

"Fuck."

Travis and his date's heads whipped in my direction as I sprang up from my seat and grabbed the hoodie I'd tossed over the end of the table.

"Caleb?"

I vigorously wiped down my keyboard, hoping like hell the table was covering up my body's inconvenient response to Travis.

"Caleb?" he said again, stopping on the other side of the table, and I glared at him.

"Who the hell else would it be?"

"Jesus, don't bite my head off. I'm not the one who spilled your coffee."

No, he wasn't. But he was the reason I was hard right now, and for that, he could fuck right off.

"Hi, I'm Kirby."

My eyes shifted over Travis's broad shoulder to where Crop—Kirby stood smiling brightly. So brightly his teeth practically lit up the space.

"Hey." I slammed my computer shut and scooped it up. "I was just leaving."

"Now why would you want to do that?" Travis said. "The place is big enough for the three of us."

I decided the best thing for me to do was get the hell out of there.I went to reach for the French press, but like Travis could read my mind, he went for it at the same time, and when our fingers touched, I immediately let it go.

"Stay." His blue eyes held mine, daring me. But I wasn't playing that game.

"Nah, it's cool. I don't want to get in the way."

"Oh?" He glanced back at Kirby, who waggled his brows, then back to me. "What if we want you to get in the way?"

Okay, that was it. "Give me the press, Travis."

"Oh, come on, Caleb." He chuckled. "Hang out with us for a while."

The invitation was innocent enough, but the slight tilt to his lips was anything but.

"How long you been studying?"

"Not long enough." I held my hand out, gesturing to the French press. "But now I have to make more coffee."

"What if I make the coffee? Would you stay then?"

"Yeah," Kirby chimed in, not knowing the mine field he'd just ventured into. "Don't let us run you off."

This was getting ridiculous. But I finally caved, figuring it was the easiest way. I could stay over here, away from them, then maybe Travis would leave me alone.

"Fine, whatever. But I need to work."

"We won't get in your way." Travis drew a lazy cross over his heart. "Promise."

Like I believed that. But there was no going back now, so I put my computer on the table and made my way into the kitchen, hoping they would leave me alone.

"Hey, Kirby?" Travis said. "Why don't you go find us something to watch? I'll be there in a second."

"Okay."

After a quick kiss to his lips, Kirby all but skipped back to the couch, and I rolled my eyes. It was clear Lady Luck wasn't on my side tonight as Travis followed me into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, relaxed in leather pants that fit him in all the right places.

Something I never would've paid attention to before tonight, this very moment, when my dick seemed to have a mind of its own.

I wanted to strangle him.

"Need any help?"

"No." I grabbed the coffee beans out of the cabinet and poured some into the grinder before plugging it back in.

"Okay. Well, could you make me one, then?"

I looked over my shoulder, and when he grinned, I scowled.

"Is that a no?"

Instead of answering, I pressed the button on the grinder and let the loud whirring answer for me.

"Fine. I know when I'm not wanted… Which, by the way, isn't anywhere in this house tonight. Jeans feeling a little tighter than usual, Caleb?"

Of course he'd noticed—he had a radar for that kind of shit. "Why don't you go back to your date?"

"Oh, I am." Travis pushed off the counter and walked over, not stopping until his front brushed against my back. "But you might want to grab a mug with a top this time. I'd hate you to see something that had you spilling your coffee again."

He chuckled as he walked out of the kitchen, and I cursed my stupid cock.

God, he was such an agitator. Totally got off on it. He couldn't even give up the chance to get one up on me when he had a sure thing waiting for him on the couch.

I would give it ten minutes. Hell, maybe five. Then I was out.

Back at the table, I opened my computer and made sure to keep my eyes glued to the screen and not on the pair practically sitting on top of each other in the other part of the room. Several pages in and the sound of the TV was no longer hiding the sounds of Kirby, as Travis did God knew what to him on the couch.

But I wasn't going to look. That was what Travis wanted.

If I didn't know better, I'd think it was the reason he'd brought Kirby back here in the first place. Travis didn't usually invite guys back to his bed. He was more a "sneak out the next morning" kind of guy. So it was hard not to think that this little show was for my benefit. To show me what a hotshot player he was.

Newsflash, asshole, I already knew that.

But that didn't mean I wanted to sit here and watch. It wasn't that I was a prude, but I was trying to fucking work over here, and they were getting progressively louder.

I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on the work in front of me and not the ache between my legs, but my eyes kept losing track of where I was. Then Kirby moaned and I was done. I wasn't going to sit here and listen to them have sex several feet away from me.

As quietly as I could, I closed my laptop and glanced over at the couch to make sure I hadn't attracted any unwanted attention.

That was a mistake.

Travis had Kirby beneath him now, stretched out on his back along the cushions as he nuzzled into his neck and kissed a path back up to his mouth. Their hands were tangled up in each other's hair, much like their legs were further down the couch.

Look away. Go away.

But I stayed frozen as I watched, swallowing hard when Kirby's leg wrapped around Travis's ass to hold him there. Travis lifted up onto his elbows, looking down at his conquest with a hunger that made my stomach flip and my mind rewind to a time when Travis had looked at me that way…

"Caleb…" Travis pushed my hair out of my eyes, and the intensity that flared when our gazes locked was like nothing I'd ever felt. I sucked in a breath as my cock reacted to the way he was looking at me—the way he'd always looked at me, but I'd never understood the context before. Not until his fingers tightened in my hair, and an urgent need began to pulse between us?—

A curse ripped out of Kirby, bringing me back to the present, and I didn't want to know what Travis had done to elicit that reaction. Whatever it was, Kirby was gripping the back of Travis's neck and pulling his mouth down, as another flash of memory dragged me back in time…

I thought I was dreaming, but it was really happening. Travis was kissing me. Kissing and touching me in a way that I never could have imagined, and the shock made my heart stutter and another gasp escape my lips. The ones currently molded against Travis's like they'd been made to fit there.

It felt so good, so right, that I didn't even question it, didn't even think as his tongue slipped inside my mouth…

"Yeah, just like that." The sound of Travis praising Kirby had me snapping back to reality, as he sat up to straddle him and began to roll his hips.

Oh God. I was gonna be sick.

Before I could grab my shit to head to my room, a message flashed up on my phone.

JT:

Late night coffee hang? I'm at the café downstairs.

Fuuuck yes. His timing couldn't have been better.

I slid my chair back, no longer giving a shit about being quiet, and ignored that I saw Travis's head turn in my direction out of the corner of my eye. Whatever. I didn't want him to think I was affected by what was going on in any way, because he could do what the fuck he wanted. Same as me. I just hoped he didn't catch what was still happening below my hips, because the last thing I needed was for him to think I was somehow turned on by the sexual display happening only feet away.

And those memories could fuck right off too.