Liam Davis & The Raven (10 page)

“As for the other stuff
, I have a pretty good routine, but sometimes—once or twice a year—I have an accident.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and I didn’t think it was either, but Hunter stiffened and a light blush touched his cheeks. “But that’s just life. I know how to deal with it.”

“Sure. And what about intercourse?”

Hunter chuckled. “Paraplegics can still have sex. I do, and I really enjoy it.” He curled his muscles again. “I’m strong, and other than doing it standing, I can pretty much fuck how I want. Using the chair can make things rather adventurous, too. And—because I know you’re wondering—I have my orgasm in the mind. Smelling, kissing, touching, watching a guy come undone . . . you have no idea how much that attracts me.”

I wrote down his answer, tracing over it with my pen.

These topics needed to be talked about more openly. It would have made a fascinating article for
Scribe
. Could have been my end-of-semester feature, except that Quinn made it clear he didn’t like me using him or his friends as angles for my stories.

“Thank you for sharing. I didn’t know much about any of this.”

Hunter nodded and glanced toward the street, running a hand through his hair to spike it up. “Sure.”

I stared at one of my other questions
and licked my dry lips before I asked it. “You’ve known Quinn a long time, right? Were you and he ever together?”

Hunter cocked his head and studied me, a whisper of a smile
nudging the corner of his lips. “When did you come up with
that
question? Never mind—no. Quinn and I were friends, he was the first guy I came out to, but we were never attracted to each other like that.”

I ticked off the question with a larger
-than-usual stroke of my pen—

Tap-tap-tap.

I jerked at the tapping on my car door at the same time Hunter cracked into a smile.

“So much for our suave stalk
ing,” he said under his breath. “He found us first.”

Mitch
rested his arms on the car window sill and sent us a puzzled look. A dark yellow T-shirt clung tightly to his chest, and coppery hair glinted golden red in the sun.

“I saw you guys,” he said
, a touch nervously, keeping his eyes on Hunter. “What are you doing around here?”

I deferred the question to Hunter, and pressed myself further back into the seat so they could see each other better.
Probably now was a good time to think of an excuse and slip out of the car, leaving Hunter and Mitch to their serendipity.

“
I was hoping to run into you,” Hunter said, “but I guess this will have to do.”

Mitch’s cheeks
flushed. “Sorry?”

“Look,” Hunter said
with less confidence in his voice, but with a smile on his face. “I’m just going to put this out there, and you can tell me what you think. You’re hella cute, Mitch, and I’d love to go for coffee with you sometime.”

I chose then to interrupt, because I really shouldn’t have been in the middle of this moment. “Excuse me, Mitch,” I said, opening the door and slipping out. “I have the
Post-Gazette
to read. So I’m going to leave.”

“That wasn’t subtle at all!” Hunter crie
d out with a laugh to my back, and Mitch chuckled too.

I waved it off
and trudged over the road as Mitch clambered into the front seat and shyly asked if they could do coffee right now. Hunter’s van rumbled to life, and a few moments later, they were off. I was left staring at the stretch of grass where the campus vigilante had saved me.

Chapter
6

Quinn showed up shortly past five, his hair still wet from showering. He toed off his shoes and dumped his sports bag at the front door, eyeing me with a look that made me think perhaps I wasn’t standing straight enough, that made me wonder if something was hanging out of my nose. Casually, I swiped my face and rolled my shoulders back into better posture.

Having a ro
ommate makes all kinds of sense
. I rarely used my study anyway, preferring to work on the couch or my bed, and, well . . . in case I did die in my apartment, someone would know about it. Someone who could scream a little louder than a cat, anyway.

I dug my hands in
to the pockets of my dark gray slacks and fiddled with my pen as Quinn strolled into the room toward me. The lump that rose in my throat took a few swallows to get down.

“This is the place.
” I pointed toward the study Quinn had eyed the last time he was here.

For a moment it could have been that night all over again,
with the way he charged over to the door and stuck his head inside.

“You
’d really still want to live with me?” he asked, sneaking a look at me from the corner of his eye. “You’re not kidding?”

“Why would I joke?”

Snorting, he moved over an inch so we could both fit in the doorway. “Yes, why indeed.” Without warning, Quinn slung his arm over my shoulders and crushed me closer to his side. “So, roomies then? You going to be good with that?”

“If you cut down on the deodorant,” I said, prying myself free, “we’ll be great.”

Quinn laughed. “Can I get a glass of water? I’m still parched from class.”

“Class?” I asked as I
headed for the kitchen. “On Saturday?”

“
Shannon and I run self-defense classes at the rec center.”

I perked up at that.
Since my unanticipated meeting with Freddy, I’d been thinking that maybe I should learn some self-defense. “Might be a good idea to take one of them,” I said, pulling out a fresh glass from the cupboard.

Quinn leaned against the opposite side of the kitchen island and flicked through
the pile of party flyers I had collected over the weeks. “You should come along to one, then.”

“I’ll check my schedule, but yes, that would be good.”

As I turned on the tap and filled Quinn’s glass, he blurted, “You don’t mind I’m gay?”

I glanced at him over my shoulder
and turned off the tap. Facing him, I leaned back against the sink. “Why should I?”

He looked at me, the frown
on his brow slow to disappear. “All right. Just don’t want you freaking out when you see a guy leave from my room, that’s all.”

I swapped the hand holding his glas
s and wiped my wet palm over the leg of my pants. “If I were to ‘freak out’ as you call it, I’d probably be doing that while he’s
in
the room. The walls are thin. But, rest assured, Quinn Sullivan, I’m too busy to care about your shenanigans. As long as the wall stays up, you’re all good.”

“All good,
huh?” For the confident guy he was, he sounded quite relieved. “How much do you want for the room?”

I lifted
the glass and drank. By the time I remembered it was meant to be his, I’d already finished it, a few drops of water beading at the corners of my mouth.

Giving
him a sheepish smile over the edge of the rim, I put the glass in the sink and filled up a fresh one. “Sorry. You’ll probably have to get used to that. I get sidetracked with a thought and, yes, well . . . I’m also a little on the clumsy side.”

“Yeah, you don’t say.”

A bizarre and irrational urge to poke my tongue out at him came over me, but I managed to keep my decorum. “I don’t pay rent on the place, so I don’t expect you to either.”

“No rent?” he asked.

The surprised look on his face startled me into a jerky movement, and I splashed water down Quinn’s front, soaking him. I must have handed him the glass a little faster than I should have. He yelped and plucked his T-shirt away from his stomach as the cold liquid soaked to his skin.

“Sorry,” I said. “
Misjudged that one completely.”

“Just a little
.” Quinn reached over his shoulder and pulled off the shirt. He balled it up and rested it on the counter, then walked slowly toward the bag he’d dumped at the entrance. “Good thing I have my sports stuff here.”

“Sports stuff?” I hummed.

Without the loose T-shirt, Quinn looked like a superhero. His toned stomach tapered gently to his hips, and he had a lot more hair on his chest than I had.

I pushed my glasses up.

Fascinating how the slight chill in the air pebbled goosebumps all down his stomach, disappearing at the waistband of his jeans.

Similar to my
irrational tingling whenever the word
examination
was mentioned, I got goosebumps just looking at Quinn.

He
shifted into a crouch, laughing softly as he unzipped his bag. “Like what you see?”

I lifted my gaze to his. “
Yes, I do.”

He
stopped mid-chuckle. “Um, Liam? You do?”

I nodded.
“I’m an observer. It’s in my nature.”

“
In your nature,” he repeated, glancing at his stomach. He bit down what looked like a retort, and he ruffled through his sports bag.

H
is bleached hair glinted under the light.

“What is
your natural color?” I asked. I’d been curious about that. Was it the same light brown as his chest hair?

Quinn
pulled on a large white shirt. When his head popped through, he stared at me for a moment, his lips wobbling into a grin as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s an unremarkable mousy brown.”

I cocked my head, trying t
o imagine the color on him. Somehow, in my imagination at least, it made him look paler and less . . . Quinn. “Hmm. Probably should keep dying it then.”

He murmured something under his breath, and chas
ed it with a shake of the head. Coming back to the kitchen, he said in a rustier version of his voice, “Back to no rent. I can’t freeload, I just . . . that doesn’t work for me.”

Didn’t work for him?

What type of person didn’t take up the offer of free accommodations? He could save his money for important things like university fees, traveling, savings . . . but instead he insisted on paying for something he didn’t have to?

“I have to pitch in somehow,” he said, pick
ing a rotting apple from the fruit bowl and walking it to the bin. He pressed his foot on the pedal and dropped the apple in. Then, grabbing two fresher ones, he moved around me and washed them.

How easily he made this place home. How
foreign it was to have someone in my kitchen cutting apples into wedges.

Quinn rummaged for a plate while I distractedly thought of a way he could pitch in.

“Apple?” he said, putting the plate between us and taking a wedge to his lips.

I took one. “It doesn’t seem practical insisting to pay for something you could have
for free.”

He was standing
so close to me I almost felt his shrug brush against my side. “Sometimes, Liam, it’s not about being practical or even logical.” He crunched on his apple. “It’s about doing what you
feel
is right.”

I used my apple to push up my glasses before taking a bite. “Well, I don’t get it, but okay. How about you pay for my daily newspapers? That’s about three
or four dollars a day.”

“That’s it? No
, no, I’ve got to do more.”

It took me another two slices of apple before I had an idea that might work. “Actually, I do have a thought.”

“What’s that?” He twisted toward me, his hip leaning against the counter. He wiped his sticky fingers against his jeans.

I
lingered on that stomach of his. “I could use a man with the body of a superhero.”

Quinn
hooked a finger under my chin and lifted my face. He raised a slow, questioning brow. “Liam, if I didn’t already have some idea how your brain works, you’d be flat on your back right now. Please tell me what you mean.”

I shook my
head. “I mean, since the night I was attacked, I’ve been more than skittish going to parties. I’d feel a lot more comfortable if I went with someone who knew how to fight. At least until I learn how to defend myself.”

“Are you saying you want me to go with you to parties
for rent?”

“
Would that be a problem?”

He laughed, and his fresh breath burst in little bouts against my temple.
“Not if you refer to me as your superhero from time to time. My ego could get used to that.”

I stepped away from the goosebump
-inducing Quinn. For whatever reason, whenever he spoke or laughed or moved around, the room didn’t seem to echo him. It was like he soaked everything up and added warmth to the room that had been missing since I’d moved in.

“Do we have a deal, then?”
I asked.

He folded his arms, but his head was practically nodding in answer.
“I’m getting the best end of the bargain here.”

“As long as I can quote you on that if anyone tries to throw a fist at you.”

“Deal.”

Quinn moved in the next morning.
I insisted he come early so I could let him in before disappearing to the office. Monday, I’d cut him a key so he wouldn’t have to wait around for me.

He came ten minutes later than our eight o’clock arrangement.

I yanked the door open to a wet and tired-looking Quinn and company. Quinn stood holding a large box, his hair matted with rain that dripped onto the box. He looked like he might still be asleep.

B
ehind him, carrying a box in each hand, Shannon gave me a dimpled grin and swept a blue strand of hair off her face with a flick of her head.

Hunter was the first to speak, rolling past Quinn and into my apartment balancing a suitcase on his chair. “Let’s dump this before your
bed and other shit starts elevator surfing.”

H
e dropped the suitcase at the side of the door, and slapped my ass on his way back into the hall. I jumped at the contact, letting out a noise that seemed to snap the rest of the guys into motion. They all piled in. Shannon rested her boxes to the side and pecked my cheek before following Hunter. Quinn zombied the distance between us and pushed his box into my arms.

“Thanks for the help,” he murmured
, and then followed it up with a yawn.

The damp cardboard against my chest had me simultaneously grabbing the box to hold it away from me and shaking my head.
I’d already removed an entire shelf of books for him and dusted the desk. “Actually, I really have to get to university. I’ve got a column to look over and some studying for—”