Out of this World (Browerton University Book 5)

by A. J. Truman

RAFE

  Rafe shook Nathan’s hand, yet despite the friendly greeting, there was a dark undercurrent beneath Nathan’s words. Something about him made chills creep down Rafe’s spine. Rafe stood by the door, next to Eamonn.

  “Hugh Grant actually has a wicked sense of humor. He loves pranking the other actors on set.” Nathan launched into an anecdote of one such Hugh Grant prank, complete with flawless impersonation. He got real quiet and hunched over the table. “And then Hugh turns to me and he says, ‘Not bad for a Tuesday.’”

  Heath and Louisa lost it. Rafe smiled, but couldn’t pretend to laugh.

  There were people who orbited and others who were orbited. Rafe was up against a guy with his own damn solar system revolving around him. It didn’t help that Nathan had a fit body and wicked smile. His designer sunglasses were folded and resting in his Burberry polo front pocket. Rafe wasn’t attracted to him, but there had to be plenty of other guys who were, and Nathan knew that. He seemed like a player.

  Rafe squeezed Eamonn’s hand to provide moral support. Eamonn didn’t squeeze back. He stared down at the dirty dishes on the table and seemed to be in a different galaxy altogether.

  “Hugh Grant is like fifty years old, but I’d still do him,” Louisa said.

  “What else is new? It’s The Railway all over again,” Nathan said, and the table burst out laughing. Louisa covered her face in embarrassment and playfully smacked Nathan’s arm.

  Rafe fake laughed, but only not to be left out.

  “You told him about The Railway?” Nathan asked.

  Louisa and Heath looked behind them at Rafe, who wished there was a trap door he could sail out of.

  “I guess that’s a no…” Nathan raised his eyes. Like Heath and Eamonn, his tone of voice made it seem like he was always being sarcastic, always mocking you. But unlike those two, Rafe got the feeling that he wasn’t kidding. “Basically, Louisa tried to pull some guy who told her he was a uni student, even though he was obviously forty-something. The man had crow’s feet and was balding. He walked with some kind of limp, probably from the Gout.” Nathan stood up and approximated the man’s walk. Rafe had to give him credit for getting into character so quickly. “We couldn’t figure out if Louisa was blinded by her Midori Sours or her sheer horniness.”

  “Sod off, Nathan!” She smacked his arm again, and the room filled up with the boisterous laughter of inside jokes and had-to-be-there moments that Rafe didn’t get. Even Eamonn couldn’t resist cracking the tiniest smile. He’d never felt like more of a foreigner.

  “I sometimes regret introducing you to Midori Sours,” Nathan said. He patted the empty chair beside him. “E, have a seat.”

  “I’m good here, thanks,” Eamonn said with no feeling in his voice.

  Nathan cut a quick look between Rafe and Eamonn, which made Rafe’s stomach turn.

  “You created a Midori monster,” Heath said. Rafe was surprised his flatmates were being so chummy with Nathan considering what he did to Eamonn. They were blinded by celebrity.

  “Speaking of monsters, you’ll never guess which famous actress is actually a complete cunt.”

  “Is it Judi Dench?” Heath asked. “It’s Judi Dench, isn’t it?”

  “No. It’s one of the American stars. Her British accent is pathetic. She sounds like this,” Nathan said, taking on a Kardashian accent, before turning to Rafe. “No offense.”

  Rafe wanted the spotlight off him as fast as possible. He wanted to fade into the walls.

  Nathan patted the empty chair beside him again. “E, seriously. You look like you’re practicing to guard Buckingham Palace.”

  “I didn’t know you were coming back,” Eamonn said.

  “From the sounds coming from your room earlier, you weren’t holding your breath.” Nathan’s eyes flicked over to Rafe, who wanted nothing more than to crawl into the fridge.

  Eamonn’s jaw was so tight Rafe thought it was going to break off.

  “The shoot wrapped early.” Nathan slouched back in his chair. “My agent’s been sending me tons of scripts, but I spoke about it with my dad, and I wanted to finish up uni. I only have one year left. He told me that no matter what happens, I’ll always have that degree to fall back on, which is the only decent advice he’s ever proffered. I don’t know if I’ll need it. I mean, my agent’s said I’m in the mix to play James Bond.”

  “Are you bleeding serious?” Louisa asked.

  “If they could have a blond Bond, then why not a ginger Bond?”

  “Wicked,” Heath said. Rafe’s flatmates had been reduced to fawning. Heath was a loyal friend to Eamonn. He wondered how much of the break-up story Eamonn had told him and Louisa. Maybe he tried to leave Nathan with some character in the eyes of his friends.

  “But a degree is good to have. Bond can wait. And I missed you buggers. I’m sorry for the radio silence. Filming a movie is exhausting. It’s long days, seven days a week. I barely had time to check my email. No wonder celebrities check into the hospital for exhaustion.” Nathan smiled at Eamonn, but it was completely one-sided. Rafe gave a silent cheer. “We only have one more year together. Let’s put all the shit of the past behind us and just fucking enjoy it, right?”

  His eyes shifted to Rafe and held him in place. “So tell me about yourself, Rafe. All I know about you is how loud you can moan.”

  Oh, hell no. Rafe felt all feeling drain from his face.

  “Shut it, Nathan,” Eamonn said in a low growl, which Nathan seemed to enjoy.

  “Rafe is great.” Louisa turned around and tugged on his sleeve. “He’s here until December.”

  “Smashing. I’ll get my old room back by January.”

  Hearing that put Rafe’s adventure in stark lighting. It had a finite end date. His days with everyone were numbered. Especially Eamonn.

  “I’m staying up in Jones with the most annoying Americans. No offense, mate.” Actually, I do take offense. And I’m not your mate! “But it’s nowhere near as nice as these flats. We don’t have lifts.” He turns to Rafe again. “That means—”

  “Elevators. I know.”

  Nathan held up his hands in defense. “Excuse me, then. He knows what lifts are.”

  Rafe managed a smile, and he wondered if Nathan the great actor could see through it. Nathan shot him a smile back that was anything but friendly.

  “The gang’s all back together.” Nathan squeezed Louisa’s hand.

  Yes they were. And I don’t belong here.

  EAMONN

  Nathan is back. Holy fucking shite. Eamonn was finally moving on. He didn’t know what exactly he and Rafe were, but it was something dynamic.

  And then there he was. His past, smiling at him at the kitchen table.

  The whole day felt like a surreal dream. He remembered the tight group dynamic they all had. It was a little nice to reminisce and remember the good times. But he didn’t forget about the bad times, the nights where Nathan got so smashed he spewed venom at Heath and Louisa, or when he stomped all over Eamonn’s heart. Eamonn hadn’t told Heath and Louisa about his race to the airport to save their relationship. He tried to respect the friendships they had with Nathan and not completely sully them. He didn’t think he’d ever see Nathan again.

  That night, they all went to Apothecary. This time, Eamonn pulled up a fifth chair and sat at the end of the booth. He wasn’t going to let Nathan have Apothecary and his friends while he sat home stewing. And a part of him was curious to see Nathan. He wasn’t proud of this part, but it was classic Eamonn. He couldn’t completely cut someone out of his life. Connections were hard to break.

  Rafe sat next to him, and Eamonn held his hand under the table. He could tell Rafe was uneasy about Nathan being there, but also agreed that Nathan shouldn’t scare them away from living their lives.

  “It’s great being back here, with real people. Apothecary has really cleaned itself up,” Nathan said. “I remember this place used to be a dump.”

  “The bathrooms were disgusting,” Heath said.
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br />   Eamonn caught Nathan looking at his arm next to Rafe’s, as if he had X-ray vision to see under the table.

  “They weren’t too dirty for us. Isn’t that right, Eamonn?” Nathan asked him.

  Shut up, Nathan.

  “What are you talking about?” Louisa asked.

  “Nothing,” Eamonn said through clenched teeth.

  “Oh, come on, E. You never told them?”

  Rafe looked at him with such innocent eyes. “What is he talking about?”

  “Nothing. It’s in the past.” Eamonn needed another pint, another five pints.

  “Ow.” Rafe jolted his hand away, and Eamonn saw he’d been squeezing it hard.

  “What’s the story?” Louisa asked. She was practically giddy for it.

  Nathan shot Eamonn one of his classic looks that let him know trouble was around the corner. Eamonn remembered them well from times when Nathan got upset that things weren’t going his way, and he was going to enjoy this.

  “I can get the next round,” Eamonn said.

  “Oh, what is it, E? You don’t want people to know that we shagged in the men’s room last year? It was quite steamy.” Nathan turned to Rafe, in a finishing fuck you. “We actually broke one of the stall walls.”

  Eamonn shot out of his chair, and it fell to the ground. He charged to the bar for another drink. Nobody was ready for another round, but he was. He would drink all of their rounds. He wished he hadn’t left Rafe there. Who knew what other rubbish Nathan was spewing? This had been their relationship, he realized. Nathan pushing his buttons. Nathan hogging the spotlight. Nathan savaging any guy who dared show Eamonn any attention. It led to some fucking wild angry sex, but that couldn’t compare to the sex he and Rafe had. It was wild, but also had a type of closeness that he couldn’t remember having with Nathan.

  The bartender poured him another Snakebite, and he drank it right on the spot. He wasn’t prepared for this. Leave it to Nathan to just fucking show up without warning. He lived for the drama. Maybe he cheated just to have an interesting break-up story. Eamonn glanced back at the table, and Heath’s head stuck out above the crowd. Heath gave his mate a supportive smile, and he knew Rafe wasn’t alone. He wanted to go back, but he couldn’t face Nathan again just yet. He couldn’t face all those memories coming back.

  Eamonn braved the chilly night to sit on the Apothecary’s outside deck. He had a picnic table to himself, but not for long.

  Nathan sat on the table, moving Eamonn’s drink over. “Drinking alone now, E?”

  “What are you doing here, Nathan?”

  “I wanted to check up on you. You just ran off.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Their eyes met in a moment where bullshit slipped away. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you. The shoot ended early. I wanted to come back to school.”

  “And you think we can all just pick up where we left off? Like what you did never happened?” Eamonn got up and stood by the fence overlooking a small thicket of trees.

  “I’m sorry, Eamonn. I really am. I thought about transferring, because I hated what I did. But I wanted to come back to make things right.” Nathan put his hand on Eamonn’s shoulder. He flinched back.

  “I can’t just forget.” Eamonn still remembered the smell in the air as if he could sense danger when he entered the airport terminal. Nathan’s callous shrug from that night was tattooed on his brain. Nathan broke his heart, but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

  “We were broken up. What you saw at the airport technically wasn’t cheating.”

  “We had just broken up. Did you meet that wanker in the bloody security line?”

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you at my airport terminal.”

  “I went there because I loved you! I loved you, and you said you appreciated that.” Eamonn caught his breath.

  “I’m not asking you to forget. Or even to forgive, not just yet.” Nathan slumped against the fence. “I’m not proud of myself. You may hate me, but I loathe myself.”

  Eamonn studied Nathan’s face. Sometimes, it was so hard to tell what he was thinking, what was real and what was a story. Not like Rafe. Eamonn worried about what he was thinking right now.

  “Why did you do it?”

  Nathan stared at the ground for an extended moment. For a second, he thought he saw something change in Nathan, a piece of armor fall away. When they were together, Eamonn would get the feeling that Nathan was forever putting on a performance. He would live for those glimpses backstage.

  “Because I’m a fecking idiot.” Nathan gave him a half-smile.

  “I think you should go back to your new hall.”

  “E, you may not be happy to see me, but our friends are. I’m not going to quarantine myself away from them.”

  If the tables were reversed, he knew Nathan would make Heath and Louisa stop talking to him.

  “I am back, and we’re going to be seeing more of each other. I’d like us to try and rebuild what we had.” Nathan stepped closer and ran his fingers down Eamonn’s arm. “We have history, E. You can’t just throw that away to have fun with some American twat.”

  Eamonn wacked his hand away. “You know all about throwing things away.”

  Nathan studied his face, in that way Nathan loved to do. The psychoanalyst. Eamonn hated it. “Oh, E. You were never good at casual sex. That’s not you. Be careful with him. Your little cub scout isn’t worth getting your heart broken over. They all leave.” Nathan snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

  “Fuck off, Nathan.” Eamonn charged back into the bar, but he couldn’t face Heath and Louisa. And he really couldn’t face Rafe. Nathan had gotten under his skin like the worst kind of rash.

  Chapter 20

  RAFE

  On top of reeling from Nathan’s entrance, Rafe was dealt a rough week of classes. He faced down a physics exam and a paper on Measure for Measure. His Shakespeare professor had taken points off his last paper for spelling humor and color incorrectly, so Rafe had to do a “British spell check” before he turned in this one.

  By Thursday afternoon, he was extra excited to go into Apothecary for his shift. Thursday afternoons at the bar were incredibly slow since most students waited until night to celebrate the weekend. But these slow shifts had given Rafe plenty of practice as a runner. At work, he didn’t have to think about Eamonn or Nathan. He could just concentrate on keeping the bar in order.

  Apothecary’s owner, Alfie, was behind the bar today.

  “Where’s Sadie?” Rafe asked. Sadie was the usual barmaid during his afternoon shifts. She loved arguing with patrons about soccer teams, and she cursed more than Heath and Eamonn combined.

  “She’s out sick.” Alfie wiped down the counter. “Or maybe she’s just hungover.”

  “Do bartenders get hungover?” Rafe asked. “I thought being around alcohol so often made you immune or something.”

  Rafe took a quick glance behind the bar and picked out what needed to be restocked. He’d trained his eye not to get distracted, but to focus on his areas. Ice, well drinks, garnishes. Pay no attention to the loud patrons or the bartender’s hands whipping around fixing drinks. He went into the stockroom and got more cocktail napkins and straws and replenished the bar.

  “I didn’t even realize we were running low. Thanks,” Alfie said. He looked to be in his early forties, with thinning hair and a gut. Rafe couldn’t really tell someone’s age. They were either younger than him, about his age, or full-on adult age.

  “It’s more to prepare for tonight. At least when business really picks up, you won’t run out so fast.”

  “Good job.” Alfie put down his rag. “Rafe.”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you ever thought about working back here?”

  “Like as a bartender?”

  Alfie nodded yes.

  Rafe had thought about it. He imagined two scenarios: one where he was king of the bar, like a male version of Jersey in Coyote Ugly spin
ning bottles in his hands; and the other where he was messing up left and right and chaos was breaking out and the bar burned down.

  “I can’t stand serving these feckheads. That’s one of the joys of owning a bar. I can stay in my office. Want to give it a shot?” Alfie threw him the rag.

  “Seriously?”

  “You’ve been observing the bartenders while on your shifts. I think you know what to do. There’s a book behind the bar for making cocktails, but most people just want a pint. It’s dead right now, so it’ll be a good tryout. What do you say?”

  “Yeah. That would be great!”

  Rafe ventured behind the counter, and Alfie trained him quickly on how to pour, how to work the register, and how to deal with obnoxious customers. He returned to the quiet of his office. Rafe ran his hands over the bar. His bar. He was a bartender. He’d never felt cooler.

  He chitchatted with the few customers he had during the rest of his shift. Sadie and Alfie were not ones to socialize with guests and ask how their day was going. Rafe figured his role was half-bartender, half-waiter. He had one patron take a picture of him mixing drinks, and he posted it to his Instagram page.

  But his high from this afternoon came to a screeching halt when Nathan entered the premises. He took a seat smack in the center of the bar. He grinned in amusement as he watched Rafe serve another customer, and Rafe avoided him as long as he could.

  “Look at you. This is honestly a surprise. I did not take you as a bartender.”

  “Well, I guess you don’t know me as well as you think.”

  “Guess not.” Nathan ordered a pint. Rafe felt his eyes on him as he poured, and not in a sexy way. Like a predator scoping out prey.

  “Three dollars. I mean, pounds.”

  Nathan gave him a five pound note and told him to keep the change.

  Rafe kept busy. He checked the well drinks and wiped down the counter and was extra-attentive to the one other person at the bar.

  “You’re not the first,” Nathan said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not the first.”

  Rafe took the bait, regrettably so. “What do you mean?”

  “Eamonn has shagged his fair share of Yanks.”