Ruben nudges me. “Still upset about the cathedral?”
I freeze. I sort of forgot that I can still say words in public to Ruben.
“It just looked so cool,” I say. “I love that gothic stuff so much.”
“You’re so weird.”
“Says the musician who only listens to one album.”
I notice Angel and Jon are watching us. Jon seems quietly pleased, and Angel is grinning. I wonder how they’d react if they found out. I’m sure they at least will be supportive, but I guess there’s no way of knowing until it happens.
Bone-deep exhaustion has turned me into a grumpy troll by the time we get to our hallway, and I just want to get into bed and put headphones in and listen to music. My kind of music. I’m probably the most even-keeled in the band, save for maybe Jon, but I’m still human and I have my moments where I’m a nightmare and I hate everything. I just make it a point that people don’t see them. Angel and Jon go into their rooms, and I see that the hallway is empty.
Ruben is loitering in his doorway. He tilts his head back toward his room.
Okay.
This is way better than my original plan.
I go up to him, and move in a little too close as I slide inside his room. Only it’s not too close. Because this is okay now. Ruben often does this tiny little semi-smirk before I’m about to kiss him. I don’t even know if he knows that he does it, but seeing it is enough to make me hard. Already. Damn. I’m self-conscious that he might see, and skinny jeans were definitely a mistake right now.
He closes his door, and the second it latches shut I move forward to press him up against it. I put my hands on his hips and grip him tight.
“Hey,” he says, looking up at me with wide eyes.
I kiss him so hard he rocks up against the doorway. I was tired, but not anymore. I want this. I need it. Any frustration I had before about never being able to see any of the places we’ve visited goes away; this is the only place I want to be right now. I lose myself for a moment. Ruben runs his hands up my forearms and then back down. Then he’s taking off my shirt. He tosses it away.
He touches my bare chest. I go to take his shirt off, to even up, but he stops me. “You’re beautiful,” he says. He runs a finger up my stomach. He kisses my neck, and I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation. He starts kissing harder, so it’s just below the limit of painful, but also it’s so, so not.
“So are you.”
To distract him, I kiss him again, pressing my body against his. He puts his arms under mine, and touches my back. Then he lifts his legs up and wraps them around me, so I’m pinning his back to the wall.
“I didn’t know I could do this,” I say.
He laughs, and rests his head on my bare shoulder. “You’re a natural.”
My breath catches in my throat. Nobody knows about this. This is one of the first things I’ve had all of my own since Saturday started.
He tilts his head, and I tease my tongue against his skin and breathe in a little. He lets out the softest moan, and I like it so much it’s kind of wild. I want to go harder, but I don’t want to give him a hickey. Or, I do, I just don’t want the questions that will follow if anyone sees. Instead I bring a hand up and run it over his chest then up through his hair. Knotting my fingers through, I move his head to the other side, and I kiss his neck there.
He starts laughing.
I move back. Even though I’m supporting most of his weight, it feels comfortable. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what?”
“I used to think you were really straight.”
“So did I,” I say, laughing, too, now.
I lower him back to the ground and put my hands on the hem of his shirt in a question. He raises his arms so I can pull it off, my fingers scraping lightly against his skin.
I gently push him toward the bed.
He falls back, grinning. I fall, too, so now I’m on top of him, cupping his face, and I can feel that he’s obviously having as good a time as I am.
I need a second, so I move sideways, so I’m lying next to him. We’re both breathing heavily.
He’s gorgeous.
His bare chest is rising and falling rhythmically. It’s still a novelty for me to allow myself to stare, without pulling my gaze away in embarrassment or distracting myself to fuel my denial. His chest is toned, and his skin looks so perfect, smooth, and tanned.
Ruben starts rubbing my arm with the back of his hand. It’s kinda scary, but I’m getting very close just from the contact and the kissing, and I think I should slow down but I don’t want to. I lean across and kiss him, trapping his arm between us.