The Guy With the Suitcase (Once Upon a Guy #1) (16 page)

But Pierce was asleep.

Had he misread Pierce? Or did he bore him so much? He really thought he felt the same, but apparently not. Or maybe it was his sickness that had distanced Pierce from any loving thoughts for Rafe. It was true that Pierce hadn’t flirted with him since he’d told him about his positive status. Sure, he had helped him, but he had stopped being playful with Rafe. He wasn’t like he was with Vance, for example. Maybe Pierce was into his boss and not Rafe. Maybe he saw Rafe like a little brother.

Rafe sighed and decided to let it go. It didn’t matter. Pierce was a friend before anything, and he still wanted to show his gratitude to him. He pulled the comforter over both of them and patted a kiss on Pierce’s cheek before resuming his binge-watching of three episodes of his favorite childhood show.

By next week, Pierce had stayed at Rafe’s every day, watching movies and TV shows, mainly from the 90s, which they both had a fascination for, going to work together and leaving together. The upcoming Christmas craze had enveloped the city into an endless green flora and Santas ringing bells on every corner. Les Fourches was bursting with tourists and families, being busier than ever. Even Rafe was working a few extra shifts, despite that he was supposed to be doing two shifts a week. Starting from this week and until the end of the season, he’d be doing four shifts a week, much like Pierce. Adding to the overall generosity that subscribed people during the family holiday, Pierce was counting on the Christmas Spirit to put a few extra bucks in his savings.

So on Wednesday, and almost a week before Christmas day, Pierce walked in for his evening shift just as Rafe was finishing his afternoon one. When he took his place behind the bar, Rafe was counting his money at the side, next to another waiter, Charlie, a hunky Australian who was doing a tour of America for a year before going off to travel the rest of the world. His trip, not so surprisingly, included humping every walking, three-legged thing. It only took a few giggles and a couple of nudges to make Pierce’s insides twirl.

“Hey, Rafe. Didn’t hear you leave this morning,” Pierce said, approaching his friend and his colleague, adding an extra flare to his words, for Charlie’s enjoyment.

Rafe barely gave him a glance as he was counting. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t want to wake you,” he murmured.

Pierce took the punch of Rafe’s cold shoulder and tried not to look the wounded puppy he felt like. Ever since his first night at Rafe’s place, there was a distance between them. Rafe no longer teased him or made double entendres about the nature of their relationship. He didn’t know what it was he had done to distance Rafe, but he wished he could fix it. Everything he had done, and even everything he was doing now, he was doing for Rafe, to give Rafe a worthy friend. If Rafe was no longer interested in pursuing more than a work relationship with Pierce, he didn’t know if he cared what happened to him. He didn’t even care if he stayed on the streets ’til the end of time.

“What are you doing later, mate? Want to get a drink?” Charlie asked, elbowing Rafe’s side once again.

Pierce wished he could elbow the guy’s face. He hated seeing someone else touching Rafe. When Rafe smiled and gave an affirmative reply Pierce had to shake his head and ground himself back into reality, if only to remind himself that he was just Rafe’s friend and that the help he’d given came with no strings.

“Whatever time you finish, call me to open the door, okay?” Rafe told him as he put away the money and receded into the back room to hand in his cash float and his earnings.

A couple of men, dressed in tight tank tops and leather shorts, walked in, followed by a drag queen with fuchsia hair that towered over her head in a lopsided pyramid. All three had pink glitter eyeshadow covering their eyes and ruby red lipstick across their lips.
 

They all cheered when they saw Charlie and they embraced one another in an orderly fashion. They were Conclabia and her Pubescent Pubes, a comedy act from the club two stores down. Regular customers and some of the loudest patrons.
 

Charlie and the gang exchanged niceties, muscle compliments, and make-up adoration before Rafe appeared and embraced each and every one of them intimately, leaving one of the Pubes for last, a tall, buff blond with brown eyes and pink blusher. He squeezed Rafe’s butt-cheek while they were holding the hug longer than usual, Rafe barely reacting to the violation of his privacy.

It wasn’t that Pierce totally ignored Rafe’s last profession, but he disliked seeing him in anything other than his arms. He considered anything mildly sexual involving Rafe as a crime against his innocence. And yes, Pierce also knew that the guy he thought so innocent had been a rentboy, but he didn’t think he could ever see Rafe as anything but the young kid who’d ran from home for liking Britney and Katy Perry.

Rafe threw himself over the bar and pinched Pierce’s nipple over his shirt. “Hey, I’m talking to you,” he laughed, and so did his company.

Pierce blinked and focused his eyes on Rafe’s beautiful irises staring back at him. “Yes?”

“I said, I’ll see you later,
distraído
,” Rafe giggled and joined his friends in leaving the bar to start their night out somewhere further down, in the heart of the Village.

Business picked up and Pierce was forced to put Rafe — and whatever he was up to — on the backseat of his mind. The young man, however, seemed to have called shotgun on his every thought.

“Fucking dickhead,” he spat while he was making a Cosmopolitan.

His colleague, also working behind the bar, turned and asked him what had happened.

“Nothing. Just…cocktails. Hate those fuckers,” he murmured.
 

It wasn’t cocktails he was pissed at, but Rafe. Why had he lead him on, even going as far to invite him over to his place for a fortnight, only to blank him and date other guys? It wasn’t that Pierce wanted to date Rafe, but—

No, he
did
want Rafe to be his and only his. He wanted to look at his handsome eyes all day long and hold him in his arms when he slept. He wanted to kiss those full lips of his and taste them for all eternity. And he wanted his touch to explore every inch of his body until he knew it by heart, but even then he wouldn’t let him go because nothing was good enough as the real Rafe. Crap. He was in love with that little, thieving rugrat.

Only this time, he’d stolen something more valuable than his grandad’s suitcase. He’d stolen his heart.

But what was the point, if Rafe didn’t feel the same way? Since he had started on his drugs, he had proven as much, Pierce was nothing but a guest to Rafe. Gone where the hints, and the hand holding that had taken place on Pierce’s first night at Rafe’s room, when he thought he was asleep, but he had known. And he had felt Rafe’s kiss on his cheek and he thought the next morning would be a magical one. He thought he’d wake up with Rafe by his side, kiss him good morning and stay in bed, snoozing together. But, no. Rafe was gone when he had woken up, leaving him with a distant Rafe.

Before he even realized, Pierce had finished with work and had started his walk to the subway, only his destination was unknown. He didn’t know what the point was to sleeping in Rafe’s room when he was invisible to him. He probably wouldn’t even notice if he didn’t go home tonight. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be home at this time.

He made up his mind long after his legs had. And they carried him to his usual hostel. A thunder roared as he was buzzed in and he looked at the sky before making his way to the reception. The weather seemed to match his mood this evening.

“Hi, can I have a room for two nights?” Pierce asked a brunet muscular guy who was browsing Facebook on his phone.

The guy greeted him, recognizing him from other nights he’d slept over, but they had hardly ever talked.

“Sorry, dude. It seems we’re all booked out for the next three weeks. Christmas time and all,” he said.

Pierce frowned. “What? Where am I going to stay now?” he shouted. This just wasn’t his night.

The guy shrugged and pursed his lips. “You can try the other hostels in the area,” he told him.

Pierce wanted to punch the guy. He wanted to punch the wall. Instead, he slapped his hand on the desk as he was getting up. “Fine,” he grunted.

He’d be damned if they saw him again. He was sure there were other hostels, much friendlier, and helpful than that douche. He stormed out just as the night storm picked up, drenching him in seconds. He made his way up a block and across the street, where he’d seen another hostel, but had never slept in it. He had no luck there either. He tried another one in Uptown. He walked so far in the rain that his skin sweated while his clothes were soaking. The night was not being nice to him. He needed a place.

When he reached that hostel, and they give him a negative response, he collapsed on the floor. His eyes stung. Needles were pinching every corner of his eyes and soon he was pouring his tears out, unable to control himself.
 

He was such a hopeless case. No one cared about him. Not his parents, certainly not Rafe. He had nothing to live for and nothing to look forward to. How had he, a college student with aspirations in life, ended up homeless and dreamless in New York?

When the sky decided to finally stop spitting its mockery on Pierce, he also decided to find solace where he had a million times before. In the subway. He paid for a single ticket and let himself through the metal bars. It was way too damp at the station, so he waited for the train. He slept with intervals, changing trains and directions, until the next morning when he decided to make his way to work.

To his surprise, he made it to work with barely time to spare. His phone had run out of battery, and only when he walked in the restaurant had he realized it was only ten to two. He retreated to the staff room to put on a fresh shirt and pair of jeans, fixed his greasy hair in the mirror and stepped in the bar, ready to start another shift.

Vance came from the back side carrying something. He stepped behind the bar with a case of bottled soda to restock the shelves.

“What’s that smell?” he said as he passed behind Pierce.

Pierce looked around and saw his disheveled face in the mirror. “That’s probably me. Sorry,” he apologized.

Vance let the case on the bar and stared at Pierce, wincing. “
Why
do you smell?”

“I didn’t find a hostel last night and the storm caught me,” he grimaced. He didn’t realize it was that bad.

Vance breathed out. “Come on, dude. One thing I told you when you started was to come to work clean.”

Pierce looked at Rafe who was now sitting at the bar, having snuck up on Pierce, who was too concerned with his boss’s reprimand. “Hey, where the hell did you go last night? Why didn’t you come home? I was calling you, but you weren’t answering. I was so worried.”

“I thought you were too busy going out with your new friends,” he replied to Rafe, then turned to Vance. Why were they attacking him? Had it not been enough that he’d had a horrible night? Did they need to make him feel even crappier than he felt? “And I’m sorry I couldn’t find a hostel in the middle of a high season. Jesus!”

Vance put his hands on his waist and frowned. “Hey, Pierce, no need to give me attitude. You don’t just have a case of smelly pits, you reek. If anyone should be giving anyone attitude, that’s me,” he said in a calm manner, but Pierce could see his nostrils flaring up as he spoke.

“Whatever,” Pierce said and picked up a ticket from the printer to start making the drinks.

Vance took it from his hands. “Don’t whatever me. I can’t let you work in this state. Go home, dude. Have a shower and come back tomorrow,” he said in the same tone.

Pierce couldn’t believe his ears. What the hell was wrong with people? He thought Christmas was the time of charity, not of reckless douchebaggery. “What? I can’t lose a day’s worth of wages and tips,” he yelled.

Vance looked at the few patrons that had turned their heads looking at the spectacle behind the bar. “Don’t raise your voice with me. I said go home. I might as well work the whole day than have the whole restaurant smell like garbage,” he replied with less patience.

Pierce pushed Vance. “Fuck you,” he told him and turned around, leaving the bar.

“You know what? Don’t bother coming back, asshole,” Vance yelled having completely lost his temper.

Pierce turned and gave him the finger.

“Vance, it’s okay. I can do Pierce’s shift. Please, just calm down. Both of you,” Rafe said, turning his head to both of them, pleading.

Pierce growled. “Of course. Swoop in and steal my job too,” he shouted at Rafe.

“That’s not what this is,” Rafe begged and got off his chair, pulling Pierce to the staff room.
 

When they got in he pushed him through the door and closed it behind them.
 

“Have you completely lost your mind? Calm down, Pierce,” he shouted as low as possible, trying not be heard outside of the room.
 

He took his keys out of his pocket and forced them into Pierce’s hands.

“Here, take my keys and go back to my place. Have a shower. And I swear to God, if you’re not there when I get back I’ll whoop your fucking ass for locking me out of my apartment and I’ll whoop your fucking ass anyway for acting like an idiot,” he finished and walked out of the staff room.