Page 30 of Rent: Paid in Full
Fuck, it was hot.
Can’t wait for him to wake up so we can start all over again.
He starts to stir, groaning and swiping at his face with his hand. I hot-foot it over to the coffee maker and start pouring.
“Boobs or dicks?” I offer, pointing to my mugs.
Oh, don’t act so surprised. I’m not a complete asshole, and besides, having my dick sucked just right always puts me in a good mood.
He doesn’t answer. He puts his glasses on and blinks once or twice as his vision adjusts. Then he holds out his hand and twitches his fingers at me to hurry me up. I hand him the boob mug and try not to laugh at the state of him. He looks like he’s been dragged through a forest. Backward. By his hair.
When he’s had a few sips of coffee, I dig my wallet out of yesterday’s jeans and stand next to his bed again. I carefully and pointedly count off five Benjamins, folding them over and fixing them in place with the money clip he threw on my bed. A gold letterMglints against a background of pale blue.
He watches as I do it. Jaw ajar, eyes brimming with shock and fury.
Hmm, interesting. He thought yesterday was a one-off.
How wrong he was.
He looks at the money out of the corner of his eyes, fingers tugging at his bottom lip. Pinching it, making it crease down the middle.
I tap the money lightly, the way you would to get the attention of a bartender.
“Same again,” I say.
He makes a sudden movement toward me, so I step back, my heart thudding in excitement or fear or hope, but it’s a false alarm. He gets out of bed and huffs toward the bathroom.
He slept shirtless last night, and I’m here for it. His arms and chest are beautiful, a large expanse of olive skin. He’s lean and hard, with just enough muscle to drive me crazy. I don’t get totally lost in the sight of his chest this time because as hot as his body is, it’s nowhere near as hot as the fact his sleeping shorts are tented, barely containing a massive erection.
“Mmm,” I say, smiling and making no effort to hide the fact I’m looking.
“It’s morning wood. Get over yourself.”
I run a hand down my torso and stroke the outline of my cock with my thumb. “Mine’s not. It’s all you.”
It’s been three days, and he still hasn’t touched the money. Literally has not touched it. I took note of exactly where I put it on the desk, so I know. I know the exact knot of wood the top left corner was touching. I put it there so I’d know if he moved it, and he hasn’t. Three fucking days.
Four days.
Five.
Shit, I’m losing my mind. I’m going to beg soon. I can feel it. It’s awful. It’s a horrible feeling. I’ve never begged anyone for anything before, but I can tell I’m going to do it. I felt the words on my lips this morning, dancing across my tongue. I could almost taste them. The only thing that stopped me was the determined resolution in his eyes.
I followed him yesterday. I didn’t exactly mean to. It’s just that when I asked him where he was going, he said, “Nowhere,” very defensively, so I hung back when he left, holding the door open a crack so the lock didn’t make a noise when I opened it again. He went down the hall and took the stairs one floor down. I got to the second floor just in time to see him disappear into Emily’s room.
It was only when I got back to our room that I looked down and realized I was barefoot and didn’t have my wallet or keys. I had to get Carmen, our RA, to use the master key to unlock our door.
Though I didn’t enjoy yesterday’s experience, when he leaves under similar conditions today, I’m ready. My shoes are on, and my wallet and keys are in my pocket.
I’m going to have a shit fit if he goes back to Emily’s today. I can feel it coming on.
I’ve always got on pretty well with her in the past. I don’t know her super well, but some of my circles overlap with hers, so while I don’tknow herknow her, I know enough about her. She’s a free spirit. Happy-go-lucky and one of those people who always makes a point of being nice to everyone. A little too nice, maybe, if you were looking for a fault, but that’s not my main problem with her. She’s one of those people who doesn’t love being who she is. Wealthy and privileged. She feels bad about it. Not a little. Not just in words. Properly bad about it. Deeply bad. She’s the type of person who wants to make a difference. A real one.
She’s the type who rescues strays.
Stray cats.
Stray dogs.