Page 70 of Rent: Paid in Full
“Do you at least know if you’re flirting or just friends?”
“No fucking clue.” Her eyes are big and she speaks quickly while Cat is out of earshot. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Ryan. I mean, I never do, but I’m worse than usual. I’m factually worse than usual right now. Women are so fucking lovely. How the hell are you supposed to know if they’re flirting or just being friendly? How?”
“I wish I could help, but I’m far from an expert on women.”
“I know, buddy. I know.” She sighs, patting me sympathetically on the shoulder.
Miller stiffens beside me, neck tensing sharply. He glares at Emily and then scans the room. The second his eyes land on Cat, he waves her over. “You’re Cat, right?” he asks.
“Yeah.” Her voice is a little deeper than I expected: a rich, husky timbre that’s surprising and very appealing.
Miller introduces himself, making small talk and finding connections between them. I can tell from the way he’s talking to her that it’s no casual conversation. I know him better than that. He’s looking for something. Something to use. He finds it when she mentions she’s an art major.
“You know what you should do if you’re into art?” He says it as if the idea has just come to him. I’m immediately aware that he knows exactly who Cat is to Emily and has engineered the entire conversation. “You should check out Em’s pieces. She has an amazing collection. Her room’s like a gallery.”
Emily’s neck colors, and she says, “I, um, er…”
“That’d be cool,” Cat replies quickly. The color from Em’s neck travels up to her face. “I mean, I guess it would be, but you’ve probably packed your room up already.”
“I haven’t. I meant to start yesterday, but I drank four cups of coffee while I was amping myself up to get started, and then I was super, super shaky, so I...”
“God, Em,” says Miller. “Aren’t you leaving tomorrow? It’s going to be a nightmare trying to pack all that up tonight by yourself.”
“I know. Ugh. I probably shouldn’t even be here. I should get going soon.”
“I could, I could, like, help you pack…if you want.” Cat pushes a hand into one pocket, an action meant to look casual but comes off looking quite eager.
Miller claps his hands together. “Fantastic!” He looks over at me triumphantly. “How awesome is that?”
I give him a subtle elbow in the ribs to let him know he’s overplaying his hand, but I’m unable to diminish his joy. After Cat and Em leave, I take my sweet time finishing my drink. I relish the feeling because I can feel Miller simmering impatiently beside me. I like it. I like making him wait. I like knowing he wants me. I like driving him crazy. It turns me on, makes me feel bold. Makes me feel crazy too. Makes me feel high.
Even after my can is empty, I make him wait a little more. I don’t move until the heat emanating from him reaches a fever pitch, seeping into my marrow via the knee he has pressed against mine. Infecting me, making me feverish, and leaving me all but delirious.
The second the fresh air hits me, I lose it. Reason, control, whatever it is that’s been holding me back all this time is gone. I let him pull me into the shadows without any resistance. When our lips meet, I taste beer and bad decisions, and goddamn, they taste good. By the time I come up for air, I can’t tell if he was the one who started the kiss or if it was me. He’s hard and panting, grinding against me, groaning, and holding me so tightly against him I can’t remember how to breathe.
“Whatever you want, Ryan.”
“Huh?”
“Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
My head swims. The night sky slowly rotates around Miller, spraying out in a flurry of light and dark colors. I’d love to say it’s from the booze. Wish I could, but I only had three beers the whole night. Miller switched me to soda for the last two rounds. If I wasn’t so horny, it would have pissed me off royally. Things being what they are, I responded quite differently. Instead ofbeing pissed off, I felt weirdly, not taken care of exactly, but something nauseatingly like it.
It’s hard to make sense of it.
I don’t talk for most of the way home. Miller chatters incessantly. I don’t follow a thing. The words he said earlier ring in my ears:whatever you want, whatever you want, whatever you want.
The walk home takes ages. Ten minutes that’s more like an hour. Miller’s hand reaches for mine every time we find ourselves shrouded in darkness. His fingers lace through mine and squeeze hard. Mine squeeze back.
He stands behind me, cock and belt buckle digging into my ass, as he reaches to unlock the door to our room. I’m face-to-face with a flat timber surface, the grain of cheap blond wood taunting me. Standing in my way. A feeble barrier between where I am and where I want to be.
“Say it.” His lips drag up my neck and down again. “Whatever you want. Say it, Ry, and I’ll give it to you. Anything you want. Anything at all.”
The door closes behind us. The lock slides shut with a series of soft, slick clicks, each one more final than the last. Our room is dark, but the curtains are open. A dim shard of light pours in through the window and paints my bedding halogen blue.
“Anything.” Miller’s voice finds me in the dark, burrowing into my chest and flicking the switch on useful things like self-preservation and rational thought. “All you have to do is say it.”
I’m aware of my lips and tongue moving, though I feel removed from what I plan to say. I’ve never said it out loud before. I’ve never even consciously thought it. I wouldn’t dream of it. I would never allow something so stupid to enter my mind, much less leave my lips.