The Theory of Deviance: Portland Rebels, Book 3

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  Then Mikey touched her hand, a light brush of his fingertips along hers.

  “It’s okay. And I meant what I said before. Thank you for telling me.” She still had the sense that he was managing the situation until their eyes met. The dimples on either side of his mouth appeared when he smiled. “I’m gonna wash up, okay?”

  She nodded, her anxieties rushing out like the tide. Nothing was wrong here, other than an unfortunate interruption. Mikey swung his legs over the side of the futon and went into the bathroom. Krissy tiptoed toward the bedroom, finding her pjs in a neat pile by the door, phone charger and pill bottle on top of it.

  Rafe.

  Warmth filled her chest even as sadness rushed in beside it. It had hurt when he’d admitted he could never be with her in the long run after that first heavy make-out-and-petting session, because she’d thought he was perfect for her in so many ways. But she’d accepted that his heart didn’t work that way.

  A part of her had actually been a little relieved.

  They both knew she wasn’t ready for a relationship, and being friends with benefits was the best of both worlds. Now she finally was doing what he’d encouraged—taking a stab at a chance to be with someone who could give her everything. And for the first time in so long, that felt possible.

  Padding into the kitchen area, Krissy filled a cup with water and downed her pill. Outside the windows, downtown Portland glittered in the distance, its lights mirrored on the black surface of the water. Calming, like Mikey’s presence.

  Thumbing across her phone screen, Krissy opened her mood journal app and grinned at the happy emoticon waiting there.

  You haven’t logged your mood yet. How are you feeling right now?

  Great. She was feeling great.

  Chapter Five

  The next afternoon, Krissy and Rafe sat in the living room while Mikey took his turn in the bathroom. They’d spent the morning watching a Harry Potter marathon after making another massive breakfast, this one with the addition of home fries and bacon. Rafe had teased her as soon as Mikey hit the shower, apologizing for ruining their fun the night before.

  “Nothing happened,” she insisted.

  Rafe rolled his eyes. “Nothing, my ass. He’s cute. I’d even call him hot, if we could upgrade that haircut from geek to geek-chic somehow. And he obviously likes you. So what’s the hold-up?”

  Krissy let her silence answer for her, focusing on tying her laces instead.

  She’d paired her high-topped Chucks with a long-sleeved flannel shirt and bright-green leggings, her hair in pigtails. The hairstyle was more a necessity than a fashion statement. She’d felt more confident about her updated look after Mikey’s compliment—the pop of color from her contacts and her bleached strands made her feel like she was seeing a different person every time she looked in the mirror—but the static electricity in the air was making her new layers frizz out like a lion’s mane.

  “Is it because of us?” Rafe asked. Krissy nodded. “You don’t have to tell him. But it’s good to start things off by being honest.”

  Krissy cringed. She did have to tell Mikey, but…ugh.

  “There isn’t a guidebook on how to have that conversation with a prospective boyfriend, Rafe, even if he took the news of my being crazy well.”

  “Kris…” he warned.

  She huffed out a sigh. “Of my having an illness well.”

  The look of pride on his face at her reply dissolved quickly into a smirk. Rafe unguarded was a fleeting thing, like a comet or a shooting star. He folded his hands behind his head and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

  “If it helps, I’d be willing to facilitate things. Make it a real-life version of what we did on stage.”

  Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “That’s crazy.”

  “Why?” he asked with a smug grin. “You said you wanted it. Think of it as a belated Chanukah present.”

  “That’s like the most fucked-up present ever.”

  He winked, and damn if the idea of her wildest fantasy coming true didn’t make her stomach jolt with excitement. But there was no way that was happening.

  Hey Mikey, I really like you, but I also have this thing going on with my roommate. He’s mostly into dudes though, so how about we all fuck and then talk it out in the morning?

  Sure. Great idea.

  A short time later, they were filing into the small theater in the Old Port. Krissy sat between Mikey and Rafe, her knee bobbing as she flipped through the playbill.

  “I’ve always thought there’s something incredible about the moments right before a show starts,” she told Mikey. “The energy of the musicians tuning their instruments, the crowd just waiting to be dazzled.”

  And this show was going to be especially dazzling. It was a performance of the musical Hair, and a note in the program said the cast would be interacting with the audience, not to mention the partial nudity. But that part wasn’t half as exciting to Krissy as the opportunity to watch people singing their hearts out. It always made the torch she carried for a life in the theater burn a little brighter.

  “I never got to see the revival when it was on Broadway,” she continued, her feet tapping a rhythm against the floor. “But I’ve practically memorized the soundtrack. I’m stoked I get to see it here.”

  She was talking too fast, and the chair was bouncing with her movements, but she didn’t care. Mikey knew more about her now. She could be herself.

  “You’ve always wanted to act?” he asked.

  “Since I was a kid and my parents took me and my sister to see Les Misérables. I knew by intermission it was what I wanted to do with my life.”

  And they had supported her. They’d gotten her a vocal coach and come to every silly high school show she’d been in, waited for her outside during her audition for Tisch and applauded when the acceptance letter came.

  Now all they did was ask her if she wanted to do something “less stressful”, acting as if she were a china doll about to crack.

  The house lights dimmed, the overture beginning, and Krissy wove her fingers tightly together as the cast traipsed in from the wings. Rafe’s friend Merrick was starring in the role of George Berger, and once he’d sauntered onto the stage, he leapt off it and into the audience. He immediately climbed onto the armrests of Rafe’s chair and pretended to grind against her roommate’s face.

  Oh, yeah. This was going to rock.

  They launched into the opening number, and Krissy mouthed along to the lyrics. As the show progressed, the hum inside her got louder. The desire to be on the stage, the feeling of I want to do that too.

  She could. She could dazzle the shit out of this audience. The stage-fright thing was BS.

  She’d told Rafe her anxiety was because she didn’t think she had a good voice. The fabrication was easier than admitting her fear of getting sick again, and what it could do to her career.

  The worry had slithered into her thoughts during every audition the last two semesters, her voice cracking as she tried to reach notes she had no problem with in the shower. It only added to her parents’ concerns that the long rehearsals, erratic schedules, the possibility of rejection, and periods of unemployment could trigger another episode.

  But Krissy wasn’t going to let that happen. Her strict routine ensured she was staying on top of things. She understood her illness wasn’t some cold she was going to get over. This was forever. And the only way to avoid a repeat performance of her last hospitalization was to keep up with her studies, do what her shrink told her to do, and assure her family everything was fine.

  The title song started, and Krissy let herself fall into it, forgetting everything else and dancing in her seat. Midway through the number, Merrick pulled a rolled-up piece of paper from his pocket and lit it up in the middle of the stage.

  It was a prop, a fake joint lined in powder, b
ut it edged the memories under her skin nonetheless. Suddenly, she was inundated by them—the awful things she’d done the last time she got high. The bad choices and wild, inappropriate behavior. The vast wasteland of depression she’d fallen into after she’d lost her grip on reality.

  She grasped the armrests, trying to stay calm.

  Nothing is happening to me. I’m in control.

  Rafe’s mouth was at her ear a second later. “Should we leave?”

  “No,” she whispered back. He and Mikey should at least be able to enjoy the show. She’d take a breather. Do a lotus pose on a bench she’d seen. “You guys stay. I’ll chill in the lobby.” She gathered her coat from under the seat and turned to Mikey. “I’m gonna sit the rest of this act out.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just need some air. I’ll see you guys at intermission.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, you stay and watch. I’ll have to field a call from my mom and dad anyway.”

  She made her way quickly up the aisle before he could stop her or ask more questions. Chalk one up for her parents—no way could she make a career out of acting if some fake smoke gave her an anxiety attack in the middle of a performance.

  She pushed the door open and tiptoed out of the theater.

  * * * * *

  Mikey watched Krissy leave, bewildered by her sudden departure. A sickening heaviness settled in his stomach as he turned back around in his seat. He was out of his element here. He’d done a quick search about bipolar disorder on his phone when she was in the shower this morning, but Wikipedia didn’t help other than to give him a clinical overview. She’d said she had to avoid any triggers, but he couldn’t figure out what set her off.

  Letting her leave didn’t seem right—she’d been so excited to see this, and now she was sitting in the lobby alone—but Mikey didn’t know what to do.

  Rafe would, though.

  He’d kept his interactions with Krissy’s roommate to a minimum today, but there was no avoiding the guy now. Not if he could shed some light on what was going on with Krissy. Leaning over the empty seat between them, Mikey whispered, “Should one of us go after her?”

  Rafe shook his head. “She’ll get embarrassed if we make a big deal out of it. Best to let her be. Intermission is soon anyway.”

  Mikey nodded and slumped back into his chair, trying to concentrate on the show as the actors sang about life and love, about rebelling against their conservative parents and society. About being free to be whoever they wanted with no guilt.

  Do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t hurt anyone? Sure. He’d get right on that. As soon as he stopped thinking about how corrupt it was to have gotten even harder last night when Rafe walked in on him and Krissy. How he’d stolen away from her like the couch was on fire and jerked off in the bathroom to the idea of Rafe giving him instructions on the best ways to fuck her. To the thought of Krissy sucking them both off. Rafe’s cock in his mouth while Krissy watched. Him watching her and Rafe coming together.

  Wrong. So fucking wrong. And so much worse than anything he’d fantasized about before. Apparently the fact that he’d wanted a man once in his life wasn’t enough. Now he needed to add orgy to the list of things he had to banish from his thoughts.

  At least before it had been only one person at a time—one guy he’d wanted before he’d escaped college and lived the life of a monk. Now he was attracted to both Krissy and Rafe. It was a violation of everything he’d been taught, deviation in its worst form.

  Maybe it was because of what she’d told him about that show she’d been in, his lizard brain taking her theatrical experience and turning it into another messed-up fantasy. He’d looked up the Theory of Deviance this morning too. It was described as an absence of conformity; any thought, feeling, or action that violated social laws.

  Well, he was just the freaking poster child for that, wasn’t he? He was going to need about a year of confession to cleanse himself of these thoughts.

  But that was all they were—thoughts. He wasn’t hurting anyone by thinking, so maybe these people on the stage who saw their sexuality as gifts, and not as something dirty, were right.

  People onstage who were now naked.

  It was only for a second. They’d hidden themselves under a giant parachute and resurfaced completely nude right before the room went black. The house lights came on a few seconds later, the stage totally empty. Mikey blinked when the announcement for intermission came over the speakers and people started moving out of their seats.

  “You all right over there?”

  Mikey glanced at Rafe. The actors’ nude bodies were still imprinted on his brain, a flash that remained on your retina long after the picture was taken.

  “Sure. Why?”

  Rafe dropped his head back against the seat and laughed, then shook his head. Mikey’s gut sank like lead in water. There was a knowing glimmer in the other man’s velvet gaze, as if he could read every thought Mikey had.

  “This show is a bust.” Rafe put on his coat and stood. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Shouldn’t we check with Krissy first?” It felt weird, making this decision without her.

  “If she was stressed enough to leave, she’s not going to want to come back in. And you look halfway scandalized.”

  “I’m not scandalized,” Mikey replied defensively. “Just surprised. That was a whole lotta naked up there.”

  Rafe snorted. His teeth gleamed, pearlescent. “Come on. Krissy will be happier at the apartment with you anyway. You go find her. I’ll tell Merrick we’re heading out.”

  They went in different directions, Rafe hopping onto the stage and walking confidently behind the curtain as if he belonged there, Mikey toward the back of the house. He found Krissy in the lobby sitting cross-legged on a bench against the wall. She looked so sad, so lost and nervous, rolling and unrolling the hem of her shirt. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

  “Hey.” She hopped up and bounded toward him. “Sorry I had to run out, but I’m fine now, I promise. Where’s Rafe?”

  “He went to tell Merrick we’re leaving.”

  Her face fell. “Because of me?”

  Watching the happiness drain out of her was like a knife plunging into his chest. “Nah. I wasn’t really enjoying the show either.”

  “You weren’t?” she asked, hope lighting up her eyes.

  “Yeah, too much nudity.”

  A small smile formed on her face. “You have a problem with nudity?”

  Her grin grew impish, a playful gleam emerging from beneath her thick, dark lashes that Mikey wanted to use as a cloak. A shield against all his impure thoughts.

  “Not where you’re concerned.” The line was ridiculously cheesy, but she giggled anyway. Thank goodness. “You sure you’re okay, though? I didn’t know what bothered you in there, and I’d like to stop it from happening again, if I can.”

  She went up and down on her toes a few times, pensive. “The fake pot smoke reminded me of stuff that happened when I was sick. I know it wasn’t real, but it took me back there.”

  “Okay. No smoke of any kind. Got it.” He gave a firm nod, glad to have something solid to work with. “I guess we’ll go back to the apartment then?”

  “Unless you wanted to do something else?”

  He’d had other tour destinations in mind, but most of them required daylight, and the sun was already kissing the horizon. “Let’s grab a pizza and chill. It’s only Sunday. We have the rest of the week to see the town.”

  Her smile returned to full-Krissy-wattage, and Mikey’s heart felt like the Grinch’s at the end of the movie, growing two sizes larger until he thought it would burst.

  Rafe returned a few moments later. “I told Merrick you weren’t feeling well. He said he was sorry and offered us all a complimentary backstage tour tomorrow.”r />
  “Aces!” Krissy said with a fist pump. “Let’s jet, fellas.”

  She turned on her heel and skipped to the door.

  They stopped for a few slices at a place with a view over the docks, then went back to the apartment. Mikey stood awkwardly in the living room, trying not to ogle them as they took their coats off. Krissy in her leggings that showed off every curve. Rafe looking like a male model in a turtleneck and dark-washed jeans.

  Christ, what was the matter with him? He’d spent the last two days worrying they were a couple, and now that he was pretty sure Krissy wanted him, all he could do was crave them both. Was this his subconscious’s way of ensuring he’d be a virgin forever?

  The two of them exchanged glances, a silent connection that put Mikey’s suspicions back on high alert. Rafe turned toward him, his lips turned up in a slow grin.

  “I have an idea,” he said. “Let’s play a game.”

  Chapter Six

  “What kind of game?” Krissy asked warily. The look on Rafe’s face wasn’t to be trusted.

  “A board game, silly. I haven’t played one in forever.” He walked over to the collection by the TV and knelt down, picking through them until he found a box he liked. “Let’s play Sorry, the game of sweet revenge.”

  “You would choose that,” Krissy chided. She wasn’t sure what Rafe’s motives were. Playing a game seemed to go against his desire for her to tell Mikey the truth, but she’d take it if meant she could stall the inevitable a little longer.

  As Rafe sat on the futon and began unpacking game pieces, Krissy turned to Mikey and asked quietly, “This okay?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  Her heart leapt. No, pirouetted was more like it. She’d felt so stupid for having a meltdown in the theater, but Mikey hadn’t blinked an eye, simply asking what he could do to make it better.

  “Awesome, I’m just gonna grab my meds.”

  She ran to the bedroom and downed her pill, then sprinted back to the couch. Mikey and Rafe were on opposite sides of the futon. She shimmied in between them and sat down. Her knee pressed against Mikey’s and stayed there.