The Theory of Deviance: Portland Rebels, Book 3

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  “You like the church job?” She knew he took working for his family’s company seriously, but the musical post seemed to suit him better. “I know you said it didn’t pay, but is that what you’d rather be doing?”

  Mikey made a sound that was half a laugh, half a cough. Crap. She’d been asking too many questions. It was a reflex, though. When you asked people a lot of stuff, it stopped them from asking anything about you.

  “It’s just a fun thing I do on the side,” he said. “I only took the position because I was in the choir as a kid. I knew the former director, and he asked me if I’d be willing to fill his role when he left. But I like working in nature. Taking care of things. It’s why I majored in environmental studies—for me and for my parents’ business.”

  The last line made it seem more like he was convincing himself of the answer more than anything else, but Krissy didn’t push it.

  “Got it.” She tucked into her breakfast, took her first bite, and moaned.

  Mikey grinned around his own mouthful of food. “Good?”

  “Good doesn’t begin to cover it!” She downed another forkful and moaned again. “Swear to God, this is better than sex.”

  Mikey nearly choked around his swallow. “Is it?”

  It’d been a while since she’d done the actual deed, but she’d certainly classify this combination of fluffy, rich, and sweet as orgasmic. She gazed at him from beneath lowered lashes.

  “Absolutely. Should I expect everything you get your hands on to be this good?”

  Mikey’s blush was coupled with a shy glance at his plate. Two dimples pushed at the edges of his pink lips as they curled upward. The slightly feminine shape of his mouth provided a lovely contrast to his square jaw. He leaned closer, and electricity sparked between them in the cold morning air.

  Oh, yes. She might have come here riddled with skepticism, doubting what she’d felt during those few short days they’d spent together, but this. This was what she wanted—the flirting, the connection, excitement buzzing inside her like the moment before a curtain lifts and pretending for a short time that she could have something real.

  “Are those pancakes I smell?” Rafe called out.

  Krissy glanced over her shoulder, and the thrill Mikey’s reaction had shot through her intensified. Dressed in nothing but rumpled black sweats and a charcoal tank top that showed off his upper body, her roommate looked as sex-mussed as he always did first thing in the morning.

  That was Rafe. Ready-made sex appeal. Just add water.

  “They are,” Krissy replied, telling herself that Rafe’s interruption was a good thing. Getting her hopes up with Mikey this soon was a bad idea. “Grab a plate before I eat yours too.”

  Rafe made himself a heaping serving and sat down across from them.

  “So,” he drawled as he poured syrup directly onto a spoon and lazily sucked it off. “What’s on tap for today?”

  There was a brief pause before Mikey answered, his body taut and closed off. Krissy had some ruffled feathers to smooth here, but that was a juggling act she’d figure out how to balance later. Mikey went through options on what the tour highlights could be, and they decided on a plan. When he stood to clear his place, Rafe made a pointed glance at her. A look that clearly said did you tell him yet?

  Krissy ignored him. Hopping out of her seat, she brought her dish and mug to the sink. “I call dibs on the shower,” she hollered, then raced toward the bathroom.

  Locking the door behind her, Krissy silently scolded Rafe, even though she knew he was only trying to help. She had to come clean if she wanted something more than friendship with Mikey, but seriously, how the hell was she supposed to do that?

  “Hey, I know this might sound crazy, but…”

  No. Her therapist had instructed her not to use the C-word. She had bipolar disorder and needed to talk about it the same way she would a medical illness. But her diagnosis carried a huge stigma, and her experiences with telling people about it hadn’t usually ended well.

  Sighing as she stepped into the shower, Krissy soaped her legs and grabbed her razor. She hadn’t expected anything to come from this week. Sure, she’d been “Mikey this, Mikey that” since she’d come back from Maine, but she couldn’t trust her feelings. Intense and brief connections were a factor of her condition. Now that she was here again, the bond they’d formed seemed real, but things would change when she told him the whole saga. Once he knew what had gone down at school, the trail of disaster she’d left in her wake, and the things she had to do now to keep herself on an even keel, he’d run for the hills.

  But say he didn’t? Then what? She was too messed up to be anybody’s girlfriend. Keeping her emotions in check was hard enough without adding in the roller coaster of a relationship. It was why she’d spent the last two years avoiding being intimate with anyone.

  Make that, almost anyone.

  Krissy stared down at the line she’d drawn through the foam on her legs. Her relationship with Rafe was as complicated and delicate as her mental state, which was ironic since it was the only thing that had kept her sane.

  They didn’t sleep together; he’d drawn a line in the sand over intercourse that Krissy never wanted to push. Sex made things more serious, he’d said, and while Rafe went both ways in the bedroom, his heart swayed more toward men.

  It was fine. She didn’t love him that way, not fully anyway, and their play was one of the many ways he took care of her. Fooling around with him stuck a literal finger in the dam of her raging libido, no complicated feelings required.

  It had worked out fine in the beginning, but after a while she’d noticed him getting twitchy. A longing look at an attractive man when they grabbed dinner somewhere. A night out at a gay bar that ended with him coming home cranky and alone. She’d finally told him to please go out and get his. It was fine with her if he hooked up with a guy, as long as he stayed safe. She wouldn’t be jealous.

  Actually, she found it pretty damn hot.

  If he’d done so, he didn’t say. Maybe he had and kept quiet about it because he didn’t want to hurt her. She knew what they were doing wasn’t healthy, and it couldn’t go on forever, which was why Rafe was all about her taking a shot at things with Mikey this week. But explaining this to him was going to be impossible.

  God, she wished she could just be normal, instead of having a body and brain chemistry that constantly rebelled against it.

  She’d tell Mikey the truth, but not yet. They had a fun day planned ahead of them, and Krissy wanted to enjoy it for as long as she could.

  * * * * *

  It was past midday by the time they’d rotated shifts in the shower and headed outside. The chunky rainbow-striped tights and vintage corduroy dress Krissy had on beneath her jacket didn’t keep her very warm, and she gunned it for the truck, climbing inside as soon as Mikey unlocked it. The engine rumbled to life, heat sputtering through the vents as they set off down the street.

  The buildings became more residential farther down the road, and they came upon a large church with a huge steeple. Tall, ornate windows were set in green wrought-iron casings. Broad cement steps led to three sets of double doors, balsam wreaths with red bows hanging from each one.

  Mikey nodded toward it. “That’s my family’s church. Where I work.”

  “You work at a church?” Rafe spat. “I thought you were a landscaper.”

  Krissy winced. Rafe and religion didn’t exactly see eye to eye, and Mikey’s second job was one more thing she hadn’t found a way to explain yet.

  “It’s a volunteer gig, part time,” she said. “He’s the musical director. Teaches the kids. Right, Mikey?”

  He responded with a tight nod. An uncomfortable silence filled the cab.

  Awwwwkward.

  Krissy fiddled with the radio, compelled to cover for Rafe’s glaring disdain and the distance that settled between
them. One hand squeezing Rafe’s in apology, she searched through stations and asked Mikey about different landmarks. He eventually loosened up, noting some of the houses he’d worked on and pointing out a Pelletier Property Services truck when they passed it. Rafe finally patted her knee, and the silent acknowledgement let Krissy relax enough to enjoy her surroundings.

  New England charm was everywhere, from the colonial architecture to the beach snack bar shut up tight for the season, its walls decorated with colorful lobster buoys that were dusted with a fine layer of snow. Maine might’ve been gripped by the depths of winter, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Rays of orange-gold sunlight reflected on the snow, making everything shimmer and sparkle. Chunks of ice idled in the harbor, bobbing on deep blue water.

  “I totally dig the vibe here,” she said when they made their way across the bridge into the Old Port. Cobblestone streets made parallel lines along the wooden structure of the wharf, warehouses from another era renovated to incorporate shops, galleries, and restaurants. With sparkling white lights in the trees and snowflake decorations on every storefront, the town was painted like a classic Christmas card picture. “It’s like a more chill, festive Greenwich Village.”

  “You know there are a few theaters here,” Rafe said. “You can audition after you graduate.”

  Mikey glanced in her direction. “You’re thinking about moving here?”

  “I dunno. Maybe?” It was a fleeting thought she’d had, not one she was ready to take seriously. Krissy elbowed Rafe, but he wasn’t deterred.

  “She’s trying to decide what to do after graduation,” he told Mikey. “I said she’s nuts to want to get into acting at all, but why should she listen to me, someone who knows how fickle life in the theater can be.”

  She elbowed him again, but he grabbed her arm and held her still, answering her glare with a wag of his eyebrows.

  Pain in the ass.

  “Rafe’s in between shows,” she explained. “His last one closed in November. He had a bunch of auditions last week. It’s why he’s jumping every time his email dings.”

  “Ergo, I know what I’m talking about. Get out now, while you still can.”

  He released her elbow and poked her side until she giggled and squirmed. The move pushed her closer to Mikey, and Krissy tried not to react to the contact, too many body parts in such close proximity.

  “I love the theater,” she said once she’d recovered. “Access to costuming means an easy way to keep adding to my fabulous wardrobe.”

  She smoothed down her dress, an item found in a bin of unwanted costumes at school. Theater dumpster-diving was a habit of hers during set break-downs, the more eccentric the better. It was fun, feeling like she was always a little in character.

  “Well, you’d better make some decisions soon,” Rafe said. “The clock is ticking.”

  “Really?” She stuck out her tongue at him. “I hadn’t realized.”

  She didn’t need the reminder. Her family kept at it enough for them all.

  Five months until she finished school, and Krissy hadn’t made any solid plans. It wasn’t for lack of love of the stage—it was just hard to figure out what she wanted, especially with Rafe and her parents telling her what was best all the time. But she’d worked hard to keep up, needing to prove that she wasn’t going back on her plans. She was going to be an actress, was going to graduate Tisch with a degree in drama, bipolar be damned.

  She had to show her family she was capable of being the person she was before she got sick, so they would stop looking at her the way they did.

  “My friend Merrick is in the area, performing with a local repertory company,” Rafe continued. “He can get us comp tickets to a matinee tomorrow. Let you see how good their shows are.” He threw her an innocent grin. “Say the word, and I’ll make it happen.”

  Krissy glanced at Mikey. “Would you like to do that?”

  “If you want to, then sure.”

  There he went again, being so wonderfully unassuming and quiet. Not shoving ideas down her throat like everyone else did.

  “Okay then,” Rafe said. “I’ll set it up.”

  He pulled out his phone and spent the remainder of the drive on it, only chiming in when the sun began creeping toward the horizon and Mikey asked if anyone was hungry.

  “Sustenance would definitely be appreciated,” Rafe said.

  “Retweet!” Krissy needed to eat again, and soon. A big breakfast meant she hadn’t been hungry for lunch, but regular meals were another part of the keeping-Krissy-from-going-off-the-deep-end agenda.

  “Any requests?” Mikey asked.

  She clapped her hands. “Can we go somewhere with lobster?”

  “It’s Maine,” he replied with a laugh. “Every restaurant has lobster. But I know a nice place nearby.”

  He pulled up in front of a redbrick building on the waterfront. It was busy inside, the crowd within visible through several large windows. Rafe reached for the truck’s door handle.

  “I’ll put our names down. You guys take your time finding parking.” He winked at Krissy before hopping out.

  It was a thinly veiled offering of time alone to talk. Well played, Rafe. Well played.

  Nerves fluttering, Krissy practiced her yoga breathing as Mikey searched for a spot. He found one a block and a half up, shut off the ignition, and glanced over at her.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “Are you having fun?”

  His eyes searched hers, big and brown and gentle. Awareness prickled. She’d been holding herself back, but sitting with him in the quiet of the cab, the allure of being hidden in the shadows…

  She shifted closer on the seat. “Yes. Are you?”

  “Yes.” A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “I like your hair, by the way. And your eyes. The color, I mean.”

  Relief washed the tension from her body. Coloring her hair had been a whim during finals week when she was too wound up to sleep, the purple contacts a spontaneous decision the morning after. She’d regretted it afterward, unsure of her choices as always, but Mikey’s compliment felt like a standing ovation.

  “I like you,” she said.

  He blinked. Stared at her lips. Licked his own. “I like you too.”

  Krissy’s pulse raced. They were close, close enough to kiss. Close enough to forget about secrets and illnesses and have it all disappear under the hot slip of mouths and tongues.

  Kiss me kiss me kiss me.

  The high-pitched sound of her phone ringing startled her. Krissy pulled it from her purse with a groan. Mom and Dad checking in, of course. She could ignore it, but if she didn’t answer, they’d probably call the police.

  “Sorry. Just a sec,” she told Mikey, then swiped the screen to answer. “Hey, Mom. Can I call you back?”

  “Sure,” her mother replied. “I just wanted to see if you were having a nice time.”

  “Yup, great time.”

  She promised to continue the conversation in a few, impatient to return her focus to Mikey, but by the time she ended the call, the moment was over.

  Chapter Three

  Mikey figured it wasn’t gentlemanly to kiss Krissy right after she got off the phone with her parents. He wanted to, because good Lord she was the perfect combination of cute and hot in her little puffy jacket, but not here. Not in the cab of a truck where anyone could notice.

  And not with Rafe sitting in the restaurant, waiting for them.

  “Let’s get inside,” he said. “It’s cold, and you’re hungry.”

  “Oh man, you’re right. I’m starving. Let’s go!”

  She booked it out of the truck with a surge of energy he hadn’t expected. Mikey led her down Fore Street, his stomach churning in anticipation of another meal with Rafe. Her roommate’s presence was still unnerving. He didn’t trust the guy, and the almost twenty-four hours of nonstop d
iscomfort had made Mikey forget how attracted he’d been to Rafe when he first saw him.

  Mostly.

  Watching Rafe eat breakfast this morning had been like a trial from God. Each time he’d drizzled syrup on his spoon and sucked it off, Mikey’s treacherous body reacted—pants going tight as he idly wondered what Rafe would look like if he were about to feast on things other than food.

  Mikey hated it, not being able to block out those thoughts. This was his opportunity to make things work with Krissy. He wasn’t supposed to be feeling like…this.

  When they reached the restaurant’s door, Mikey opened it for Krissy and followed her inside. It was a place he’d hoped to take her—a good blend of local fare and gourmet concoctions, the decor an eclectic mix of modern and Down-East style. Wrought-iron candelabras hung from wooden beams, sconces on the walls, and the open kitchen gave it a warm, homey feel.

  They checked in with the hostess, who’d already seated Rafe in a booth by the windows.

  “After you,” he said to Krissy, but she palmed her phone and waved it in front of him.

  “I’ve gotta call the parental units back first. You go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

  She pecked him on the cheek and went off in the direction of the restrooms.

  Mikey gazed after her, his stomach taking even more of a beating, his frustration and anxiety like a buzz saw to his nerves. But he squared his shoulders anyway, walked toward the table, and slid onto the bench seat opposite Rafe.

  “Krissy had to call her parents,” Mikey said.

  Rafe didn’t look up from the menu. “I swear, if those people could install GPS in her, they would.”

  So he’d met her family then. “They’re super protective?”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  Another barb of jealousy jabbed at Mikey’s sternum. He didn’t like how well Rafe knew Krissy, how involved he was in her life. And that pill thing from last night was still bugging him. He’d wanted to talk to Krissy about it today, but how did you ask something like that? And it wasn’t like he’d had a private moment to do so anyway, with Rafe along for the ride.