19. Niall
CHAPTER 19
NIALL
Boxes sat on my desk, stacked neatly, but they might as well have been bricks weighing down my chest. I hadn’t looked at them in years. Hadn’t let myself.
Now, they were here, taking up space in my room, a decision I couldn’t take back.
Eli wasn’t home yet. That was good. Gave me time to second-guess myself, which I was doing a damn good job of. My fingers hovered over the lid of the top box before I forced myself to rip the tape off.
Dust clung to my hands. I wiped them on my sweatpants, my throat tightening. It was just wood and glue. Just a stupid hobby I’d buried because it hurt too much to remember why I started it in the first place.
I reached inside and lifted the first ship out. Carefully. Reverently. The weight of it was familiar, yet foreign. And then, without warning, my father’s voice echoed in my head.
Precision, Niall. Steady hands.
The memory hit hard.
I was eight the first time he let me help him. I could still hear the scrape of the sandpaper, feel the rough wood beneath my fingertips as I clumsily smoothed the edges of the tiny hull. My father’s hands guided mine, steadying them as I worked. Like this, bud. Gentle, always gentle.
I’d grinned up at him, proud when he nodded in approval. That night, I fell asleep dreaming of sails and open seas, my hands still smelling like sawdust and glue.
For years, it was ours. Our thing. We built ships together every summer, each one more intricate than the last. The summer before I left for college, we stayed up past midnight finishing a model of an old whaling schooner, my dad laughing when I accidentally glued my fingers together. I told him we could build another over winter break.
We never got the chance.
My grip tightened around the tiny ship in my hands. Three years. Three years without this, without him.
I exhaled slowly, setting the ship on the shelf above my desk. One by one, I pulled out the others, arranging them carefully. The tools came next—familiar in my hands but distant, like they belonged to someone I used to be. By the time I’d arranged them all, the sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the room.
The front door opened.
Eli was home.
I heard the shuffle of his footsteps, the rustle of his jacket as he tossed it onto the couch. A muffled sigh. The fridge opened, then closed. Normal sounds of him settling in.
I hesitated, rolling a small carving knife between my fingers. I’d opened up more to Eli than I had to anyone in years—more than I meant to. And yet, instead of regretting it, I felt something else. A pull. Like if there was anyone I could share this with, it was him.
Eli was halfway to his own room when he stopped short, turning toward me. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, the strap digging into his hoodie. His hair was tousled, the ends sticking up a little like he’d run his fingers through it a few too many times. There was a faint crease on his cheek, like he’d been leaning on his hand in class. His brows pulled together, eyes sharp but questioning. “Yeah?”
I shifted, clearing my throat. “That thing you asked about a while back… the models.” I exhaled, dragging a hand over my jaw. “If you still wanna see them.”
For a second, he just stared. Like he hadn’t expected that at all. Then something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe even something softer—and he was moving before I could change my mind.
I stepped aside, letting him in.
The moment his gaze landed on the ships, his entire body went still. His backpack slipped from his shoulder, hitting the floor with a dull thud. “Holy shit.”
My pulse kicked up. I hadn’t been sure how he’d react, but the awe in his voice tightened something in my chest.
Eli stepped closer, his head tilting as he scanned the shelves. His gaze was sharp, taking in every detail. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if he should.
“You actually build these?” His voice was quieter now, almost careful. “I thought you were just messing with me.”
I crossed my arms, leaning against the desk. “Told you I did.”
“Yeah, but when I said I wanted to see them, you shut that down real quick.” His lips curved, but his usual teasing smirk was softer, edged with something else. Curiosity. Maybe something more. “Didn’t think I’d ever get a look.”
I swallowed, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Figured it was time.”
Eli’s gaze lingered on me for half a beat before flicking back to the ships. “These are insane, Niall. Like, look at the detail.”
He slid his backpack off his shoulder, letting it drop to the floor with a quiet thud before crouching slightly. His eyes traced the delicate rigging on a schooner, his fingers twitching like he wanted to touch but didn’t dare.
Without thinking, I reached up, grabbed one of the smaller models, and held it out.
He hesitated. Just for a second. Then he took it, handling it like it was something rare. Precious.
“Damn.” He turned it over in his hands, careful not to press too hard. “How long does it take to make one of these?”
“Depends. Weeks. Sometimes months.” My throat felt tight, so I cleared it. “You still wanna learn?”
His head snapped toward me. “Wait. You’d teach me?”
The moment the words were out, I regretted them. Not because I didn’t want to, but because it meant something. More than I was ready to admit.
I shifted, looking anywhere but at him. “If you’re not busy.”
Eli grinned, slow and bright. “Oh, I definitely wanna learn.”
I hesitated for a beat, then exhaled through my nose. “All right.”
I moved to my desk, pushing a few things aside to clear some space. Eli grabbed his backpack off the floor, shoving it against the wall before stepping closer. His attention darted between the half-finished models and the tools scattered across the desk, curiosity all over his face.
“How do we start?” he asked, dragging a hand through his hair.
I crouched, pulling a box from under the desk and setting it on top. Lifting the lid, I sifted through the pieces until I found an unfinished model—just the skeleton of a ship, waiting to be built.
“This,” I said, setting it between us. “First thing—you don’t just slap pieces together. You gotta be precise.”
Eli pulled out my desk chair, dropping into it and leaning forward, elbows braced on the wood. “I can be precise.”
I snorted. “Doubtful.”
He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “Rude.”
Shaking my head, I grabbed a small wooden piece and the tiniest paintbrush. “You start with this. Base coat first. Steady hand.”
Eli reached for it, his fingers brushing mine as he took it. His skin was warm, and his touch brief, but it sent something sharp and electric up my arm. I clenched my jaw and looked away.
Silence stretched as he concentrated, tongue caught between his teeth. He was horrible at it.
I huffed a laugh. “You’re butchering it.”
He scowled. “Maybe if I had a good teacher?—”
Before I could think better of it, my fingers wrapped around his hand, steadying it. “Like this.” My voice came out rougher than I intended.
Eli stilled. I did too.
The air between us thickened, heavy with something I couldn’t name. My heart was pounding in my chest, louder than my own thoughts. His breathing was slow, controlled, but I could see the subtle quiver of tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes flickered down to my lips before snapping back up to mine. His body was close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, warm and inviting, but I couldn’t bring myself to close that last inch.
Not yet.
But then, I noticed his gaze drop again, lingering at my mouth—just long enough for the hunger to rise in me, something sharp and raw and unfamiliar. My chest tightened. Every nerve in my body seemed to lock up as if waiting for something, anything, to happen.
I should’ve stepped back. I should’ve made this moment less dangerous. But I couldn’t. I wanted him too much.
Before I could talk myself out of it, before I could think about what the hell I was doing, I was closing the space between us.
The first touch of his lips was soft, tentative, almost like he was testing the waters. But it was enough to send a jolt through my whole body, something that started low in my stomach and shot straight to my chest. Heat exploded inside me, spreading fast, burning through my veins like wildfire.
His lips parted, just enough for me to feel the tremor in his breath as he inhaled, as if he was trying to process this too, trying to figure out if this was real. His hand tightened around mine, a pulse of warmth that shot straight through my arm and down to my fingers. I could feel every inch of him now, pressed against me, and fuck, I wanted more.
The thought hit me before I could stop it. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to slide my hands under that hoodie of his, feel the smoothness of his skin and the hard, tantalizing peaks of his pierced nipples—the ones I couldn’t stop thinking about since I first saw them, like they were burned into my brain. I wanted to see how he’d react, to feel him squirm and shiver beneath my touch.
But I kept my hands still, my body betraying me with how badly I wanted to touch him. To claim him.
Eli didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned in closer, his lips parting a little more, his breath mixing with mine, warm and sweet. His mouth felt like it belonged against mine, soft but demanding in the way he kissed back.
I was lost in the feeling of him, the taste of him, the heat between us. My body was hardening against him, a deep ache building low in my belly that I couldn’t ignore. I could feel the pressure of it, thick and undeniable, like everything inside me was unraveling in the best possible way.
And I didn’t want it to stop.
I needed more. Needed him more.
A beat later, reality slammed into me like a freight train. I pulled back fast, my chest rising and falling too quickly, trying to get some air, but all I could taste was Eli. His lips. His warmth.
Eli blinked at me, still standing too close, his lips parted, eyes wide, dark with something I couldn’t name. Something raw. Maybe it was there before, but now it was like a flickering flame between us, threatening to catch fire.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath. “That?—”
“Yeah.” His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper. He cleared his throat, his hand fidgeting nervously at his side. “So, that happened.”
I could feel my pulse in my ears, my heart racing, my brain scrambling to make sense of what the hell had just happened. This wasn’t supposed to be anything. Just a kiss. But my body didn’t know how to shut off what I felt.
Eli’s lips twitched, amusement flickering across his face, but there was something else behind his eyes now, something just as shaken as I was. “Gotta say, Captain, didn’t think shipbuilding would get that hands-on.”
The attempt at humor fell flat against the weight in the air between us. I groaned, dragging a hand down my face, the heat of the moment still lingering. I couldn’t think straight. “Don’t. Just… don’t.”
Eli’s grin faltered for a moment, his expression shifting—hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how to react. There was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something almost too vulnerable to show, before he quickly masked it with a sharp breath and looked away before looking back at me, his gaze steady.
Then he stood, his shoulders tight, his jaw clenched. He took a breath like he was trying to find the words, but when he spoke, it wasn’t the playful teasing I’d expected.
“You know…” His voice dropped to a quieter, more guarded tone. He paused, and his gaze flickered away for a second before he met my eyes again, something raw in them. “I don’t want to mess this up. The camaraderie we’re building, you know? I don’t want things to be weird between us.” He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening. “I’m not looking to get caught up in something that isn’t real.” He took another breath, his words coming out carefully, like he was measuring them. “And I’m not here to be someone’s experiment for their sexual awakening.” His gaze softened briefly, but then he turned, the weight of his words hanging between us. “I just—” His gaze dropped, his fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I just—I’ve been through enough already.” He let out a sharp exhale. “I’ll… let you figure out what you need to.”
He gave me a last, uncertain look before he turned and walked out, leaving me standing there, still reeling from everything that had just happened.