I forced myself to move, shuffling my naked self into the bathroom. Why was I so groggy? My body felt drained. Relaxed, good, but drained. Glancing in the mirror, I took in my bed hair, my unshaven cheeks. Two or three-days’ growth of my perpetually patchy beard.
I remembered shaving yesterday. At least, I thought so. I turned on the shower and stepped under the spray, hoping the water would help clear the foggy memory.
Emerging with a towel around my waist, I found Regge staring into a frying pan of potatoes and ham. The smell activated my appetite. When did I last eat something?
The sight of Regge’s bare back, his ass in my smiley face boxers, did things to me. “Smells awesome,” I said, walking up and circling an arm around his waist.
His shoulders stiffened, his hand gripping the spatula.
“What’s wrong?” I loosened my hold. He slid away.
“Nothing.” He carefully turned the already turned potatoes. “Things are fine. Do you want eggs? I think I have some.” He nodded toward the fridge.
I stepped away, blocking the fridge. I squinted at him, as though I could see the turmoil in his head. “I want you to talk to me.”
“I am talking to you.”
“Regge, tell me what’s in your head right now? Last night was—” I wanted to say amazing, beautiful, a thousand other adjectives. I swallowed them in lieu of answers, gentling my tone. “Last night you were begging for my touch and now you can’t stand to be near me? What the hell?”
I edged into his space, studying him. Regge could lie his way into heaven with the devil in his pocket, but I knew him. I knew when he was happy, excited, angry, even slightly irritated. When he’d slip into that sad melancholy about his past and the loss of Charlie. He hid it well. But I’d made it a hobby to decipher his expressions, his moods.
Or at least I thought I knew him. But now his soft, open expression from earlier had closed.
“Sorry. I think I got carried away. Last night, I mean.” He looked away.
Ice crackled along my spine. This wasn’t happening. Things had been awesome not five minutes ago. “Carried away?” I backed up several steps until my legs hit the edge of the folded-out futon. “What do you mean? Did you not want to…” I couldn’t say it.
His gaze wouldn’t land. Not anywhere in my vicinity anyway. “You said we were just friends with benefits. Don’t make this more.”
I remembered. “I asked. Iaskedif that’s what this was. You said yes.” Had I said the wrong thing? Misspoke? Or simply screwed up again?
“I was agreeing with you.” Words clipped sharp enough to cut. “That’s what you wanted.”
Damn, I had messed up again. I opened my mouth to fix it. To say all the things I should have said last night. But the jade of Regge’s eyes stopped me, shredding whatever words I had.
He shut down. He’d done it before. After our fight at Reckless Abandon. A cold front harsh enough to freeze time. As though I was just a hookup who’d overstayed my welcome.
“How the fuck do you know what I want?” The words spilled from me, hot and bleeding. I knew I sounded desperate, but damn it, I was. “Have you asked?” I snapped at him. “What I want? No. So here’s a clue. I want you. In whatever way I can get you.”
I’d said it before. Months ago. Regge had said he wasn’t ready for anything like a relationship. That he was still adjusting. Maybe he still was. How would I know? We hadn’t talked about this in a while. Not ever, really.
Tears formed behind my eyes. I had to get out of here. I scanned the room, found my jeans, and pulled them on quickly, not bothering with underwear. Regge could keep them. A black T-shirt was rumpled on the floor. I yanked it over my head inside out.
Regge stared from the kitchen, spatula in the air, potatoes burning in the skillet. I waited, hoping he’d stop me. Explain himself. But he said nothing.
I heard myself exhale a long, miserable sigh. It didn’t feel like me. Like I was outside my own body. I couldn’t remember anything except the closeness we’d felt under the stars and the mind-blowing orgasm from only a few hours ago. The rest of it was a blur.
I needed air. Space. I couldn’t stay and look at Regge’s indifference another second. “If friends is all you want, that’s fine.” I found my duffel and started shoving whatever clothes I could find into it, cinching the cords with a vicious yank. “But friends are honest with each other. I know you well enough to know you’re hiding something.”
“HB.” The nickname was a knife blade of intimacy.
“Hunter.” Bile worked its way through my gut. “Or Bruce, that’s what acquaintances call me.” I shoved my bare feet into sneakers.
Regge wrenched the smoking skillet off the burner and turned to face me. “Hunter, don’t. You should stay.”
“And do what? Play checkers? Video games? Fuck like friends? Tell you what. You start talking and being honest, and I’ll stay.” Our eyes met across the room.
“You should eat.” He turned back to his breakfast.
