by Shae Connor
“C’mon, let’s hug it out.”
I’m as gentle as I can be, mindful of his multiple healing injuries, but once I get my arms around him, I don’t want to let go. Darryn must feel the same way, from the way he relaxes into me and lets out a soft exhale.
God, he smells good.
I want to live in this hug forever, but his dad is right there. I force myself to let go and back away. Darryn’s arms slide away as slowly as mine, like he’s as reluctant to let go as I am.
I nod at Mr. Kaneko, who’s watching us. “Sir,” I tell him.
He sighs. “I told you, Grant. Call me Ken.”
I share a glance with Darryn. “Sorry…Ken.” I force the name out. “I spent my entire childhood being taught to call adults Mister and Missus, sir and ma’am. Hard habit to break.”
Mr. Kaneko—I’ll still going to think of him that way even if I remember to use his first name out loud—sets the duffel bag he’s carrying on Darryn’s desk. “You’re nineteen years old, you and Darryn. You’re adults yourselves now.”
Darryn winces, but there’s laughter in his eyes. “I think I’ll stay a kid a little longer. This adulting thing is for the birds.”
I grin at him, and he returns it before turning back to his dad. “Thanks for bringing me back, Dad. Tell Mom I promise I’ll be super-extra-special careful.”
“And I’ll keep an eye out for him, too,” I put in. “Heck, we’ll wrap him in bubble wrap if we have to.” I’m only partly joking. If I could put him in a bubble so nothing could hurt him again, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
Mr. Kaneko nods, suddenly serious. “I know you will, Grant. We appreciate everything.” He nods again and turns to leave.
Darryn pushes the door mostly shut behind him before he turns around and moves toward his bed. “What’d I miss?”
I feign nonchalance. “Not much, just the usual stuff.” I watch as he perches on the edge of his mattress, spine straight, every muscle coiled like he’s about to take off down the runway toward the vault. My heart aches to see him so unsure. I sit down across from him and try out a grin. “Tell me, Kaneko. How’s it feel to be a self-rescuing superhero?”
Darryn stares at me with wide eyes before he relaxes, and a smile slowly spreads across his face. “I like that,” he tells me. “It feels…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Better. Like maybe now I’m gonna be okay.”
My smile softens. “You are.” I bite off the entirely inappropriate babe my brain wanted to add. What the fuck, brain? Get a hold of yourself!
“Anyway.” I wave a hand between us. “Let me hear the whole sordid tale. I wanna know all about how you got the drop on Rich the MF-ing Asshole.”
Darryn snorts and shifts around until he’s got a pillow behind his back and his legs folded up in front of him. I mirror his position.
“He is an asshole,” he begins. “I know it. You know it.” He sighs. “He knows it, too.”
I lift my eyebrows, and Darryn goes on.
“He spent high school deep in the closet. And I mean deep. Like, he was one of the guys who made fun of the gay kids. He says he never hit them or anything like that.” I can’t hold back a disbelieving snort, and Darryn tilts his head in acknowledgment. “He said he had too much to drink at a party and started making out with another guy, and he got busted. It was spring of his senior year, so football was over, but all of his friends dumped him.”
I bite my lip to keep from saying what I’m thinking. Sounds like he got what he deserved.
“Anyway.” Darryn shakes his head. “None of that is an excuse, of course. But he told me he was sorry about hurting me and he wanted to say that in person.”
I’m gobsmacked by that. “And he thought kidnapping you off the street was the way to go?”
“Yeah, I know.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t say it made any sense. He seriously didn’t seem to think he’d done anything wrong. Not until the police knocked on his door.”
Darryn stops there and pulls his knees up close to his chest. He wraps both arms around his knees as best he can with the sling and the wrist brace still in place. It takes all my willpower to stay where I am, when all I want to do is climb into his bed next to him and take him in my arms—not for anything sexual, but for comfort. If I could take away his pain, I would.
“When he realized it was the cops, he freaked out. He started yelling at me and went to grab my arm. I ducked, which is how he hit my face.” Absently, he touches his bruised cheek with his fingers. “And then he tried to push me into his bedroom and I hit the doorframe, which is where the bruised ribs came from.”
I can’t hold in my thoughts any more. “I’d like to slam him into a few doorframes. Fucking asshole.”
Darryn meets my gaze, and the fire is back in his eyes. “Oh, don’t worry. He got slammed around. I got around him and got the door open for the police. He resisted. Ended up face-first against the wall with his hands twisted up behind his back.” Darryn bares his teeth in a parody of a smile. “I’m betting he’s been in a world of hurt the past couple of days.”
That probably shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. “Good.” I sigh. “I just wish he’d gotten his without hurting you again.”
Darryn makes an abortive move that I think was probably an attempt to shrug before he inclines his head to one side. “I could’ve done without more bruises, yeah. At least it’s not going to set anything back.” He waves his splinted arm. “No damage here, and the sling is a precaution. The ribs will be fine in a week or two.” He grins. “Not anything worse than I’ve done to myself in the gym, anyway.”
I take a deep breath and then grin back. “How’d you get away to call the cops?”
Darryn smirks. “The biggest cliché ever. Told him I had to pee. Flushed and then turned on the sink when 911 answered.”
I laugh outright at that, but there’s a knock at our door before I can respond. We both look over to see Pace standing in the partially open doorway, one hand shoved into the front pocket of his jeans and his face creased with concern. “Sorry. I shouldn’t interrupt.”
He takes a half step back but Darryn stops him. “No, it’s fine. Come on in.”
Pace pauses and then moves into the room slowly, like he’s approaching a time bomb. “I wanted to stop by, see how you were doing.” He glances at me. “Both of you.”
Darryn gives him the tiniest of smiles. “I’m okay. A little achy and off-balance. I’ll be okay soon. Thanks for checking. I appreciate it.”
Pace doesn’t look convinced, but he nods quickly. “If you need anything…”
Darryn’s smile widens minutely. “We’ll let you know, promise.”
Pace relaxes at that, and he nods again at Darryn, then at me. “You know where to find me.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. “We’ll get that workout thing figured out soon.”
“Sure.” Pace bobs his head once more. “See you.”
He slips back out into the hall, and I stand and follow him to push the door closed. I imagine some others are curious like Pace, but I doubt Darryn wants to spend his evening receiving visitors like a convalescent royal.
“So.” I turn back to face him, determined to let everything go for now and treat this like any normal night in the dorm. “Pizza?”
Darryn lets out a sigh that sounded like it came from his toes and falls back against his pillows. “Pizza.”
…
By the next day, we’re about 90 percent back to where we were the week before. Darryn takes a little longer getting ready for class in the morning, but I help him with his backpack as usual, and we make it to our first classes on time. “See you at lunch,” I tell him as we split up to head to our different classrooms.
The warmth of his smile carries me through the next few hours, when I drop off my backpack at our usual table in the dining hall and head for the
line. I grab two plates and fill Darryn’s with some of his favorites—sliced roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and a yeast roll. I decide to get the same myself and carry both plates back over to the table just as Darryn walks in the door.
“Hey!” I wave him over, and he gives me a puzzled look as he approaches.
“You didn’t need to get me a plate,” he says as he parks his backpack next to the table.
I shoot him a look. “Not a big deal. You can wait on me next time I get hurt. ’Cause you know that’s gonna happen.”
He chuckles, conceding the point.
I grin. “I’ll grab drinks and stuff. Be right back.” I hurry to gather flatware, napkins, and glasses of sweet tea to take back to the table. By the time I get there, Annie’s talking to Darryn.
“…was really worried. We’re so glad everything turned out okay.”
Darryn ducks his head. “Thanks. Yeah. I mean…”
I set everything on the table. “Probably not something he wants to relive.”
Annie actually blushes. “You’re right. Sorry.” She sets her backpack on a chair and then pauses. “Is it okay if I sit with you guys? If you’d rather…”
Darryn looks up at that. “Of course. Please do. But—”
“No talking about the asshole,” she finishes, and Darryn tilts his head in agreement.
“Okay then,” she says. “Be right back.”
I take my seat and catch Darryn’s eye to check in with him. “It’s okay if you don’t want her to sit with us, you know.”
Darryn shakes his head. “Thanks, Grant. Really, it’s fine. I like Annie. And from what you said, she helped with the whole…Asshat Who Shall Not Be Named situation.”
I snort. “We could call him ‘Dick.’”
Darryn almost chokes on his tea. “Oh my God,” he says once he clears his throat. “He was adamant that he was Rich, too. Not Richard, and for God’s sake, never, ever Dick.”
I grin at him. “Dick it is, then!”
Annie’s voice cuts in. “Do I even want to know?”
I glance up at Annie, then back at Darryn, and both of us lose it. And does it ever feel good to laugh together again.
Chapter Sixteen
When Saturday rolls around, I do my usual workout with Pace in the morning, then shower and throw on some sweats before settling down to get some classwork done. The space where Darryn usually sits looms empty, though I know he’ll be back before long. I’ll be glad when he finishes physical therapy so he’ll be home on Friday nights.
Home. The thought pulls me up short. But it’s how I feel. Even though it’s a standard too-small dorm room, sharing it with Darryn is enough to make it feel like a real home.
Sure enough, a little after noon, the doorknob rattles and then the door edges open. “Hey, gimme a hand.”
I jump up and step over, reaching for the brown paper bag Darryn’s holding out. It’s got the logo of a local fast-food place on it, and my mouth waters at the smell of the greasy goodness inside.
“Oh man, I should’ve done an extra mile on the treadmill this morning,” I tell Darryn as he drops his backpack next to his desk. I reach into the bag and pull out a double cheeseburger and a huge container of fries. “Make that five extra miles.”
Darryn laughs and slides into his chair. “I talked Dad into running through the drive-through on the way over. I figured you’d appreciate it.”
“You have no idea.” I’ve got the burger unwrapped and halfway to my mouth when I realize he’s not eating. “Didn’t you get yourself something?”
He grins. “Breakfast at the Silver Bullet Diner.” He names one of the most popular breakfast restaurants in town. “I’m good.”
I chuckle. “For the day, I’d say.”
I settle in with my lunch, watching as Darryn digs out a textbook and notebook and spreads his work out across his desk. I know he has a lot of catching up to do, on top of the three regular classes he’s taking this semester, so rather than trying to talk, I let him work. I’m finished with my lunch and back into my own notes before he breaks the comfortable silence.
“So,” he says, waiting until I turn my head to look at him before he continues. “You free for that dinner tonight?”
I blink once before I remember his comment earlier in the week about taking me out. “You don’t have to do that,” I tell him one more time, but he shakes his head.
“Yeah, I do. For me as much as anything.”
I study his face for a long moment before nodding. “Sure. Whenever you want to go.”
“Seven,” he shoots back. He follows up with a wink. “And wear something nice. I mean, not fancy nice. Like, khakis and a button-up.”
That gets a raised eyebrow from me. I try to play it cool, even though my heart is racing. “Got it.”
And then it’s back to the books for both of us.
We do take a few breaks from homework during the long afternoon. At one point, Darryn even crawls into his bed and dozes for an hour. Not surprising, considering his body’s still healing. I spend my breaks playing phone games and stretching my legs, but by five o’clock, I’ve burned through pretty much everything I can handle for the day.
I stand up and stretch my arms up over my head, feeling my vertebrae shift and crack from too much time sitting. “Ugh.” I let my arms drop. “You’d think they’d spring for some more comfortable desk chairs if they actually expect us to get any work done in here.”
Darryn tosses down his highlighter and sighs as he rocks his head from side to side. “I’m just glad they have arms. My shoulder’s fine most of the time, but if I leave it unsupported for too long, it really starts to ache.”
I wince. “I bet.” I step over and sit on the edge of my bed. “How is it most of the time? I mean, really?”
Darryn turns the chair to face me. “I’d tell the doctor the pain’s at a two or three on the scale of ten most of the time. More if I’ve been doing anything more strenuous than sitting or lying down.” He shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I never thought I’d miss being able to wash my hair with both hands.”
A quick image of how I could help with that flashes across my mind, but I push it away. “And your wrist?”
He looks down and extends the hand with the brace. “A four to five, usually. I have to use it more, and it was worse to start with, of course. That’s down from about a seven. I only need pain meds after PT now.” He snorts. “Which is good, because they’re trying to get me off them completely. They’re stingy about meds now. They don’t want me taking anything except Tylenol or whatever.”
“Like you being in pain is going to help anything?”
“I know, right?” Darryn shakes his head. “It’s enough to have me rethinking my major. I mean, if I’m going to spend all my time working with people who are in pain because the doctors won’t give them anything for it…”
Before I can respond, Darryn’s phone starts up playing one of its random ringtones, and Darryn reaches over to silence it. “Study session over,” he says, tossing me a grin. “Time to get ourselves prettied up and head to dinner.”
“Shit.” I jump up and head to my closet. “I didn’t even think to check to be sure I have something decent that’s clean. I think I brought back everything after the holidays.”
I go digging toward the far end, where I don’t find any khakis, but I do unearth a pair of gray slacks and a light green button-up shirt. I turn to hold them up for Darryn’s approval. “I don’t need a tie or anything, do I?”
Darryn laughs. “Nothing that fancy,” he replies. “That’ll work great.”
“Awesome.” I hang the clothes on the hook inside the closet door, dig around on the closet floor for my one decent pair of dress shoes, and then go hunting for clean socks and an undershirt. I don’t usually wear undershirts, but in January and
with a pretty thin shirt, I’ll probably need it.
When I turn back toward my bed with my clothes, Darryn’s pulling his out of his closet—navy blue khakis and a blue and white striped shirt. He brings them over to lay them across the foot of his bed and then heads back for the rest.
I watch him for a few moments, an undercurrent of nerves buzzing through me. He sure seems to be taking this seriously, and I find myself wondering… Does he mean this as just a dinner to say thanks? Or is he, maybe, thinking of this as an actual date?
No way, I tell myself. It’s gotta be too soon for that. Bring it down a few notches. Darryn is your friend, and he’ll stay your friend unless and until he says he wants something more.
I change into my slacks and undershirt quickly, for some reason feeling awkward about undressing in front of Darryn. I also realize I forgot a belt, so I go looking for that, and by the time I have it through the belt loops and go back for my shirt, Darryn’s buttoning up his dress shirt, though he’s still wearing his jeans. He’s not having an easy time with the buttons, but he’s getting the job done. I decide to leave him to it unless he asks for help.
When I finish dressing, Darryn’s ready except for his shoes and belt, and he truly is struggling with the belt. I hesitate before I ask, “Need a hand?”
Darryn glances up, his cheeks flushed. “I guess,” he says, though he doesn’t sound happy about it.
I decide to make it as matter-of-fact as possible. I take the three steps over to stand in front of him, grab the ends of the belt, and slide the buckle together to fasten it as quickly as I can. I ignore how close we’re standing—especially the proximity of my hands to a part of his body they would love to touch.
I step away as swiftly as I can. “All good!”
Darryn flashes me that tiny, private smile—there’s a light rosy tint to his cheeks that I try not to think too much about—and sits on the bed to slide on his shoes. They’re loafers, not lace-ups like mine, so he ends up ready to go before me. I’m only a minute behind him, though.