Raphael leaned against the wall, nursing a tattered book between his two hands.
"Hey," I said, unable to keep the surprised tone out of my voice.
He glanced up. "They let me take the afternoon off."
"What are you doing here, then?" I said with a smile.
He rolled his eyes, tucking the book away. "You're not that bad to hang around."
"Oh?" I moved around behind the counter, reading the notes Ben had left there for me. "You could have fooled me."
"Shut it," he joined me on the opposite side, leaning against his elbows. "What's your task for the day?"
I handed him the note with distaste. "Cleaning."
"I would offer my help but you've already seen the state of my flat."
I laughed. "Your place is immaculate compared to the way Dan leaves things on his side of the room."
"Dan?"
"Dorm mate."
"Right," he ran his fingers through his hair. "How's Scarlet?"
"I haven't seen her in a while," I said. "I think she got herself a new boy toy."
"Bad luck."
"I know. I'm totally bummed about it."
"Really? I couldn't tell."
I grinned, especially when I noticed him trying to hide his own smirk, biting at his lower lip.
"We'll need to get started by the look of things. It's going to take ages."
Raphael scanned the store, and I took the moment to scan his body for any signs of new ink but he wore nothing that showed off his skin.
I couldn't yank my thoughts away from the time I spent at his apartment. Found myself thinking about the washed out ink on his inner thighs and the remains on his wrists. I didn't wash out the ones he left on my own arm until I had no choice, loving the way it looked. Dark and a visible contrast against my own color.
"We should start with the shelves at the front," he said, "take the things off and clean them before we put them back."
"Are you sure you want to?"
"We're not having sex, Jake. Save the question for another time."
"So there will be another time?" I pretended to be disinterested, walking to the backroom where Ben kept all the cleaning supplies in a cupboard.
"You're like a horny teenage boy."
I gave a snort. "Accurate. You didn't answer the question."
"You'll have to wait and find out."
"I hate it when people say that."
"Me too." He picked up a pair of gloves. "Coming?"
I bit my tongue. "Yeah."
Raphael shook his head. I found him placing a record on the gramophone after I grabbed my own pair of gloves and the box of cleaning supplies.
Music floated around the room and between the shelves as we started moving things from the first shelf to the floor.
"You really don't have to," I said. "You spend enough time cleaning plates as it is."
"The plates all look the same. The stuff here is different. Each thing is different. Look," he held up a tin box and slid the lid off. "They even preserved the things inside."
I peered in to see a collection of hair accessories and a miniature hair brush.
"Those probably belonged to someone's doll," he said, moving the box aside. "Ben usually knows the story behind each item. You should ask him about it."
Then we cleared an entire shelf of its belongings and swiped our rags across the surface, turning the pale wood into a darker color that shimmered under the old lightbulbs over our heads.
Occasionally, Raphael would go back to the gramophone and switch out the records. And I would watch him inconspicuously through the gaps between the other shelves, convincing myself that it was completely normal to be curious. That I wasn't only watching him because I liked the way the back of his head looked from this angle, or the way a tiny inch of his skin showed when he bent his head to read the back of a record. That I wasn't only watching him because those jeans shaped his legs so well, and then hid away under those equally distressed pair of sneakers.
He twisted around and I quickly reached for the closest item on the floor.
"Were you spying on me?"
"Yes, because you're oh so very interesting."
He hummed. "I'd like to think so."
"I didn't-"
"Jake, you're hogging the rags."
I handed him the one I wasn't using. "Was holding it for safe keep."
"Of course."
Then there were those moments where Raphael would know I was trying to catch the way his shirt hitched up whenever he stretched his arms over his head. So he would let me watch and stretch even farther, as if to buy me extra time, and I would give his stomach one last glance before looking away.
And other times when he forgot I was there because I'd wandered off to pick up the phone or do something or other and I would quietly wander back and catch him humming to music. His voice a whisper in comparison to the instruments but so soft and gentle that I could have closed my eyes. But my shoes stepped on a loose floorboard, made a creak, and it was like he'd never been humming at all.
And when the dust on the shelves were too thick, he traced his finger over them, drew smiley faces and pictures of broken hearts before wiping them away. "J+N," he said, and I wiped all the dust off before he had a chance.
"You know," he said in that voice of his, and I never wanted to shut someone up as much as I did in that very moment. "Scarlet seems like a really good match for you."
I felt myself frown. "Why do you say that?"
"Well, she's pretty. And smart and funny and kind. Seems like someone who can help you get over Nate."
"I can do that by myself."
"How?" he asked, lifting a half broken vase and setting it on the most recently cleaned out shelf.
"I logged out of my email through the app on my phone," I said, "so I won't get notifications anymore."
He went quiet. "For how long?"
I shrugged. "Maybe a week? I'll tell him I took a vacation with 'Raphael' and we decided no phones were allowed."
"Why?"
"Because the internet is taking over the world and it's an electronic apocalypse where every click of a button is bound to have you cursed forever. And-"
"I mean why won't you email him for a week?"
I shrugged, playing with a loose string on the rag. "Just to test it out."
He nodded. "That's good progress."
"Yeah?"
He nodded again.
Raphael turned around and continued cleaning with body facing the other way so I couldn't see his face. It didn't mean anything, I told myself.
He probably just thought I was stupid and labeled me as one of those broken hearted puppies who never seemed to have a clue on what was going on around them.
"We should have dinner soon," I said, peering out the window a few shelves later.
"Are you hungry?"
"Aren't you?"
He shrugged, tucking the rug in the back pocket of his jeans. "Let's order something, then."
Raphael called up a restaurant and stepped outside for a smoke as he ordered. I sneaked glances at him as I finished up some of the last shelves. Watched the way he held the cigarette between his fingers as his lips moved when he spoke.
He turned around to look inside mid conversation and caught me looking.
I tore my gaze away, bending my head down over the jewelry box in my hand. I traced the intricate design with my thumb before placing it back.
The bell jingled and I glanced up to see Ben wander in, eyes instantly scanning the store.
"Raphael dropped by to help, I see."
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "Made it a lot easier."
Ben met my eyes before looking back at the shelves. "Looks better than it has in ages. You should have the rest of the time off."
"There's still over an hour until nine."
He waved his hand. "You cleaned all the shelves, you can clean the other parts of the store tomorrow."
"Thanks," I said.
He dropped a few things off in the backroom before locking the door behind him.
He tossed me a key on his way out. "Here, lock up after."
I thumbed the key in my hand with a nod.
He said goodbye to Raphael, who just stepped in as he left.
"That went well. Food should be here in a few minutes. Are we finishing up the shelves?"
I shook my head. "I did the last of it while you were outside."
"Oh, you mind if I wait for the food?"
"Not at all. I'll just," I gestured at the counter.
He understood, wandering off between the shelves.
I did what I had to do, then slumped against the chair with relief when it was all over. Before quickly finding Raphael between the shelves and walking up behind him.
He held up an old wooden mannequin head, scratched and dull with age. "You think they used this for holding up wigs?"
I took a step forward to hold it in my own hands, examining it closer. "Maybe."
"Maybe," he echoed, "it was used as a murder weapon."
I eyed him doubtfully. "Why would you think that?"
"I'm pretty sure a lot of things in here were somehow involved in murder cases."
"You're making up stories to unsettle me," I said, returning the head to its original place.
He smiled up at me. "Is it working?"
I liked how his face looked so close to mine, so I didn't move away when his toes almost stepped over mine. "You'll have to try harder."
My eyes fell to his lips. I wondered if he'd ever kissed someone like me before. A mess.
"I can't," he said, and my heart squeezed so painfully that my lips parted as I tried to breathe.
"Can't what?" I managed to get out.
"This."
And then his lips were on mine and it was like the lights overhead simultaneously combusted, burst into sparks that flew in every direction and somehow managed to cover me from head to toe.
My skin tingled where his made contact, brushing over my arms as he leaned closer still. Like just having his lips against mine wasn't enough. He needed more, I needed more.
He pushed me against the shelves so their sharp edges bit against the small of my back, but the pain subsided faster than lightening as his kisses grew more dimension.
He pulled back, eyes downcast and hooded. "This," he said again.
My fingers found the back of his neck, that sliver of skin I was staring at just minutes ago, and I pulled him in again.
This one lasted a little longer. Tongues twisted and broke apart just to collide again and I felt my nails involuntary dig into his neck, guaranteed to leave marks.
He pulled back again. "There."
"Why?" I asked him, loosening my hold on his neck.
"I like complicated. You?"
I scrambled to come up with a quick response. "If I said I wanted to see more of your skin will you punch me or kiss me harder than before?"
He kissed me harder than before.
So hard that my knees trembled and I relied entirely on the shelves to hold me up.
"Food should be here soon," he murmured, lips moving across my neck.
I didn't pay attention. Couldn't even if I wanted to. His lips were too soft and I was too well aware of the proximity of his hips.
"Maybe next time we should order food after we make out."
"We'd never order if we did that."
"Good point. Then before," I said, as he ran his fingers through my hair.
"Solid plan."
"Did you expect any less?"
"No. Not really."
Imagine if Raphael used the mannequin head to bash Jake's skull in and that was it. THE END JAKE DIES OH WELL. Lol.
Dw he doesn't actually die. Not until he's like 80 or something.
k bye thanks for reading