Page 5 of Rocking the Receiver (Austin Troopers)

CHAPTER 5

JUST A KISS

Elliot

I immediately spot him from a comfortable distance on the opposite side of a tree-shaded street. Readjusting my baseball cap, I purse my lips, discreetly stealing glimpses of my obsession without being seen. Today is a gorgeous, sunny day, just like yesterday’s engagement party. The late afternoon dry heat is more bearable thanks to the light breeze.

Sitting outside, he has his back to me, but is angled in such a way that I see him checking his phone while having a draft beer.

Impatient, much? I’m only two minutes late.

I chose this quaint café located in a small neighboring town where the narrow pedestrian streets are made of cobblestone, lending a French vibe. It’s easy enough to reach by bike since I don’t drive. As for him, he either took an Uber here or borrowed a car, not that I actually give a shit. I also selected this location to avoid crossing paths with any acquaintances, at least on my part. I wonder what excuse Rupert made up to ditch them. Again, not my problem… All that matters is that he’s here as planned.

I’m glad that there’s enough space between tables to grant privacy.

Why are you overthinking this? Who cares if people overhear our conversation?

Rupert is a few feet away, within arm’s reach. A perfect reminder that this lust isn’t a product of my imagination. Now is not the time to chicken out. His broad shoulders are an invitation. I want this man more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, and I want him to punch my V-card ASAP. My pulse races as I fight to catch my breath, battling my inner urge to bone him in the middle of the busy street. How could people appear so unconcerned by Mr. Rupert Smith’s presence? Granted—as he said himself—he’s not the biggest star, but he’s drop-dead gorgeous.

Spying on him. Salivating at the view. Lusting over him. His warm almond skin. His citrusy perfume. His assertive demeanor. My pseudo-poetic BS registers; what is this guy doing to me? Well, at that very moment, he’s getting me hard without even trying. Fucking teenage hormones will embarrass me if I don’t calm the fuck down quickly.

Breathe, Elliot, and pace yourself or all you’re gonna achieve is blowing this instead of him.

Meanwhile, my feet have a mind of their own. Nervously twisting a lock of hair that escaped from the side of my cap, I heave a heavy sigh and nonchalantly stroll towards the spot where my favorite redhead sits.

“Hey, Rupert.” I stand in front of him. He glances up, his cheeks reddening. “So, you made it!”

Taken aback, he freezes for a split second, then coughs. “Hi, there. I didn’t exp—” He pauses mid-sentence, biting the corner of his lower lip. “I’m actually waiting for someone, so…” His long fingers run through his super short hair as he hides behind his Ray-Ban sunglasses, staring with his mouth parted. Mine are stuck in the collar of my T-shirt. It’s cute how he’s politely trying to get rid of me.

Unabashed, I slide the closest wicker chair for effect and position it across from him, facing the inside of the café. The second my butt hits the seat I lift my face to make sure that the man I’m obsessed with stays silent for a moment.

“I’m not kidding, Elliot. I’m expecting someone, so I’ll see you later at your parents’, okay?” I hate the way he says parents, stressing the fact that he’s been repeating over and over: I’m a kid, and what he’s doing here doesn’t concern me. And in the blink of an eye, a crease appears between his eyebrows, deepening as he removes his sunglasses and puts them on the table. I’m guessing that he just registered my earlier greeting. “What do you mean I made it ?” Same tone he used seconds ago. Man, this is gonna be fun! “How’d you know I’d be here? What the fuck’s going on?” A mix of irritation and confusion dances in the depths of his green pools.

“I figured you out is what’s going on.”

“What are you getting at?” His gaze hardens, then roams his surroundings, certainly praying that the person he was hoping to hook up with hasn’t shown up at this point. If he only knew… That’s why I let his snappiness slide. It’s a given that he isn’t willing to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Come on, don’t play games with me.” I rest my hands on the table to resist the urge to touch him. “I’m here, aren’t I? Same reason as you…” I wink. “A guy gave you a napkin with digits on it. A guy you texted after the party yesterday. A guy you are meeting for s.e.x.” I mouth the last word to prevent unwanted attention. “Well, that guy is me .” The O of his delectable mouth widens. “ You texted me , Rupert, not Matthieu, the blond waiter. I convinced him to give you a number if you came back to him… which you did. He’s straight, by the way…”

His silence tells me he’s mentally replaying our texts that derailed to sexting, quickly confirming the nature of this meetup. He heaves out a pained groan. “Is that some kind of a joke?” His strangled and muttered voice pains me. “Because I?—”

I’m about to cut him off when an overwhelmed waiter stands before us, so I order a beer, too. I may have tricked the guitar hero, but I don’t plan to ridicule him.

Covering his hand with mine, I tighten my grip so he doesn’t bolt, then shoot him a heated glance. “I felt our chemistry, Rupert, but—” can’t confess that I’m obsessed, so I opt for another route “—I had to make sure I was your type… You can’t deny that Matthieu and I look kinda alike. Fair hair, athletic, so…” I shrug, trailing off. My gaze flits to our joined hands. He looks numb, but what matters is that he hasn’t run for the hills… Interesting. I clear my throat. “I’ve known him for years. He played along, believing this was a prank, which I swear it isn’t. I had to find a way to see you… alone.” My eyes are downcast, giving him time to process what I’m saying.

I regretfully end our connection, just in case the waiter delivers the beer sooner rather than later. I quiver; Rupert’s proximity makes the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end.

Teasing, I suggest a toast when my drink arrives. The heat in his cheeks is unmistakable as he hisses his disagreement. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, what’s gotten into you? You got me. Happy now?” He huffs an exasperated grunt. “Look, I’m gonna play nice and not punch you, even though you deserve it. So, I’m gonna go pay for the beers and wash my hands of this ridiculous idea before hitting the road. When I exit the café, I expect you to be gone. I’m fucking pissed at you right now! Whatever you concocted inside that twisted little head of yours is not happening.”

With that, he gulps what’s left of his beer and ditches me like I did him at the party. If he thinks he has the upper hand, he’s sorely mistaken.

Collecting his forgotten sunglasses as well as mine, I stow them and my baseball hat in my backpack. Chugging the rest of my drink in record time to give him a head start, I then wait in front of the men’s bathroom since he’s nowhere to be found. Taking my chances, I catch sight of the turning knob, and as soon as the door cracks open, I push in forcefully. The breath I’ve been holding whooshes out of my lungs as I grab his forearm and swing him around in a second flat. His back is now flush with the closed bathroom door.

Despite his height, he doesn’t resist. I guess the combined effect of surprise and countless hours at the gym will do that. A sly grin tugs at my lips. Without a word, I lean forward, his scent invading my senses, and snatch his wrists, pinning them in place so he won’t budge. Our eyes are locked, and the silence is thick with tension, pent-up frustration, and anticipation. His pupils are dilated, his eyes a darker shade of green.

“I want you.” My throat itches at the admission as I rein in my eagerness, ignoring my throbbing semi and hammering heart.

Puzzled, he blinks, uselessly writhing under my ironclad grip, visibly not computing what’s about to unfold. I don’t miss his lust-filled eyes. So, I lean towards him and pause when my face is inches from his. His breath comes out in short pants, caressing my skin and sending a wave of warmth through my needy body. Worried of his next action, I go for gentleness, but clearly my intentions are anything but.

Ever so slowly, my lips graze his tentatively, then brand them. At long last. I whimper as we close our eyes and allow the sensation to sink in.

Unfortunately, time isn’t on my side, so I aim to seal the deal when his lips part; he opened to grant access, right? My tongue invades his mouth. He doesn’t protest, releasing a soft exhale instead, as if adjusting to the idea. Our tongues move in synch as his body grinds against mine while I fasten my hold around his wrists. My body goes lax. Dazed, we are one.

His taste is intoxicating. Beer. Lip Balm. Hope.

Please don’t let me cream my shorts!

My skin’s ablaze. More, more, more… And just like that, my horny brain takes the lead. Growling, I drop his wrists and fist his fitted polo, yanking him closer to me. I can’t bear the distance.

Released from his trance, he makes a throaty noise and opens his eyes. Within seconds, he presses his palms against my chest and pushes me away.

I shoot him a murderous glance. This encounter set my hormones on fire, igniting my filthiest desires.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he takes a step to the right, distancing himself further from temptation. I smirk at him as he grimaces, his chest heaving. Does he realize that the fire he sparked within me isn’t about to be extinguished? “I… I shouldn’t have… done that,” he insists, his face flushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” I ask, perplexed, moving towards him.

He retreats closer to the wall and extends his hand in front of him. “Don’t!”

I halt, my right side to the bathroom door now. “Fine, but I’m not sorry. This was an appetizer. You owe me one, remember?”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Stop it, Elliot!” he hisses between gritted teeth. “You caught me off guard and I… This can’t be… It was a mistake. I’m?—”

With one hand in my pocket to readjust myself, I counter, “You know as well as I do that it wasn’t. You wanted this as much as I did.”

“It was a mistake,” he repeats without denying his desire. “You’re a kid , Elliot. I’m not a predator.” Funny that he doesn’t claim that, on top of that, he has a girlfriend.

“No, you’re not… no more than I am a kid. I’ll be eighteen in six months. I’ll break it down for you: You have my full consent, if that wasn’t obvious enough already.”

“What the hell don’t you get? No, Elliot,” he snaps before lowering his icy voice to keep this between us. “ I’ll break it down for you : No means no. Are you out of your fucking mind? I’m not after your consent, moron. You’re Tim’s little brother… You’re… you’re…” He makes a big production with his arms and stutters, “You’re not legal! Ohhh, fuck, what have I done?” His eyes are as big as saucers, fixated on me while he rubs his buzz cut. I decipher anger, disappointment, and despair. “You’re a kid. Don’t take it lightly, Elliot. No, just no. Period!” He’s a babbling mess. Boy, does he look pissed! I can’t help but grin, though. He did return the kiss and didn’t say that he’s not into me. That’s a start, right? “You don’t have my consent. Got it? And your brother would kill me if he ever found out.” Is that what he’s afraid of? That he’d be outed? That Tim would find out? That it’d ruin their precious friendship?

The back of my neck stiffens while the front heats and, no doubt, is covered in patches of redness that betray my annoyance.

A sigh escapes his swollen lips. “Listen, this—” he points at us alternatively “—never happened. So… all I can offer you is friendship. Take it or leave it.”

I’ll be legal in a few months. He’s coming back next summer. We’ll be living in the same country soon. I extend my hand for him to shake like he did on the first day. Why not seal a temporary deal?

“Take it.”