Chapter Seventeen
Rayne
Rayne was beyond excited when he woke on Friday morning. Today would be his first time going to practice yoga in a real fitness center, not in his front yard with a book. He’d practically memorized the Mind and Body studio schedule after reading each class’s description and background of the instructor. He would’ve gone sooner, but he’d had a mandatory court-appointed counseling session on Monday, two botched job interviews on Wednesday, and his massage therapy school application to resubmit by Thursday, not to mention a pop-up meeting with his probation officer that afternoon. But not even his hard-nosed, power-tripping, foul-breathed PO could put a damper on Rayne’s excitement today.
He bobbed his head to the upbeat jazz music coming from Trent’s system in his bedroom as he added a change of clothes and a few toiletries in his backpack to take with him to the gym. He double-checked that he had his OneHealth scan card in his wallet, another soft smile curving his lips when he thought about the man who’d given it to him.
He wondered where Mike was and when he’d show up at his bedroom door again. The anticipation was exhilarating. It’d been a week, and he was getting restless, anxious. Rayne thought maybe he should make the next move and ask Mike to dinner or something, but it didn’t take long to realize that would be a bad idea. What am I gonna do? Ask him out to dinner and then ask him to pay for it? Rayne shook his head. Or I can pull out my two-for-one coupon at Applebee’s. Oh yeah, that’ll be romantic as hell.
He wanted to show his appreciation and interest for Mike; however, he had to tread carefully. This was unexplored terrain for him. He couldn’t show thanks the way he used to, and the last thing he wanted to do was unintentionally manipulate Mike into giving him more. Besides, he was no longer interested in material things. What he really wanted was some alone time to get to know more about the man who drove him batshit crazy.
Rayne didn’t realize he was humming along with the saxophone until Trent pointed it out. “You feeling that Herbie Hancock like that, Rayne?”
Rayne bit his bottom lip to contain his smile, or at least he made an effort to.
Trent held up the package of bologna and shoved it toward Rayne. “You want a sandwich too?”
With bologna? Not on your damn life. “No, thanks,” Rayne answered, then took a bowl out of the cabinet to mix his peach yogurt and granola.
“How do you eat that shit, Rayne?” Trent cringed as he stuffed his last bologna, cheese, and tomato sandwich into a Ziploc bag and chucked it into his lunch cooler.
“That’s funny. I was just wondering the same thing about you.” Rayne eyed the rest of the junk Trent had piled on the counter to accompany his three mystery-meat sandwiches. “Doesn’t eating all of that food at lunch make you sluggish the rest of the day?”
“Nope.” Trent patted his hard abs beneath his tattered gray long-john shirt. “I work it off too fast.”
“If you say so.”
Trent grabbed his book bag and yellow hard hat out of the hall closet, preparing to leave for the day. “Rayne, umm. Wood didn’t want me to ask you, but…”
“Ask me what?”
Trent scratched the back of his neck while staring at some point over Rayne’s head instead of directly into his eyes. “Uh… I wanna do something special for Wood here at the house in a couple of weeks for our…” Trent shuffled his feet back and forth, his mouth curved downward. He couldn’t have appeared more uncomfortable if he’d been having this conversation with his pants around his ankles. “Our six-month anniversary is coming up, and it’s a stupid anniversary, if it’s even an actual anniversary. But I wanna do something special because I’m usually sick of a person after like one month, but I love Wood so much and I—”
“It’s fine, Trent. You guys have got to stop walking on eggshells around me. It’s exhausting.” Rayne got up and put his bowl in the sink, clapping Trent on his shoulder as he passed. Trent’s laugh sounded uncertain, so Rayne kept trying to reassure him. He plastered on his phony everything’s-great smile and contended, “And six months is worth celebrating for sure. I can stay at Chelsea’s that night… or did you mean the whole weekend?”
“No, no, no. Just Saturday night,” Trent rushed to add, sounding relieved.
“Cool. And thanks for being honest, Trent. This is what roommates do.” He shrugged. “It’s no problem to give you guys some privacy. Besides, me and Chels have been dying to have a movie night.”
Trent halted in his tracks. “Hey. You said you didn’t watch TV.”
Rayne shook his head. “No. I said I prefer not to watch television.”
Trent’s brows turned downward. “Why?”
“Did you know that eighty-nine percent of television series and movies contain sex or some degree of intimacy?” Rayne raised a brow. “I do like movies… just not the constant reminder of what I’m not getting.”
“Damn.”
“It’s crazy, right?” Rayne sucked his teeth. “But Chels found one of the few films with zero romance.”
“That’s a crazy-ass statistic, man.” Trent hefted his bag higher on his shoulder as he headed toward the front door. “What she find for y’all to watch?”
Rayne mumbled, “Silence of the Lambs.”
There was a small moment of silence before they both laughed so loud it was hard to rein in.
“Yeah, you guys enjoy that.”