30. Niall
CHAPTER 30
NIALL
Music filled the car, Eli’s voice soaring over the sound of Benson Boone’s ‘ Beautiful Things ’ like he was performing for an audience of thousands instead of just me. He didn’t just sing—he felt the song, belting it out with dramatic flourishes, like he was lost in the music.
I should’ve been focusing on the road, but I couldn’t stop glancing over at him. He looked damn good tonight. He always did, but there was something about seeing him like this—face lit up with happiness—that made it feel like a punch to the gut.
His eyes were closed, his hands moving like a conductor leading an orchestra. When the chorus hit, I found myself singing along.
Eli stopped mid-note, whipping his head toward me, his mouth falling open. “Holy shit.”
I huffed a laugh, still humming along.
“You can sing ?” He sounded offended that I’d kept this from him.
“It’s not?—”
“ No, no, no , that wasn’t just some half-assed mumbling. You were actually singing.” Eli leaned closer, eyes wide with delight. “Damn, Niall, you’ve been holding out on me.”
I shrugged, feeling my face heat. “It’s not a big deal.”
Eli gasped. “ Not a big deal? ” He threw a hand over his heart. “I’ve been serenading you since we got into the car, putting my soul into it, and you’ve just been sitting there, hoarding those golden pipes?”
I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched. “I wouldn’t call them golden?—”
“I would! ” Eli smacked my arm. “Sing something else.”
“No.”
“Niall.”
“No.”
He sighed dramatically, flopping back in his seat. “This is a betrayal, just so you know.”
I chuckled, shaking my head, and when I glanced at him again, he was still grinning like I’d just made his whole night. And maybe I had.
Because that was the thing about Eli—he found joy in the smallest things. Like me singing. Like this drive. Like the fact I’d asked him out.
I hadn’t expected his reaction when I did. He’d looked at me like I’d handed him the fucking moon .
I hadn’t told him where we were going, only that I wanted to take him somewhere. It hadn’t mattered—Eli had a way of making himself at home anywhere. That was one of the many things I admired about him. He just was . Unapologetic. Comfortable in his own skin.
I wished I could be like that.
The thought tightened my chest as I gripped the steering wheel. Because I knew what I was doing. Driving an hour away. Picking a place where no one from campus was likely to be. A spot where no one would look at us and know .
I was a fucking coward.
Which cast my mind to the other night on the Ferris wheel when Eli had asked me if I would tell anyone about us. ‘ I don’t think it’s anyone’s business ,’ I’d said. The second the words slipped out so carelessly, I’d known I’d fucked up. Eli hadn’t said anything about it, but I wasn’t stupid. I could tell Eli was hurt, disappointed. He was the kind of guy who wouldn’t hide us—he’d never even think to. He didn’t need to. And here I was, taking him on a date that wasn’t really a date to anyone watching. They’d likely think we’re just two guys hanging out, nothing more.
The neon glow of the restaurant’s sign came into view as I pulled into the lot, scanning for a spot. The place was packed—cars crammed into every available space, a group of people in jerseys spilling out of the doorway, their laughter carrying through the night.
I was about to drive past when brake lights flared ahead. A pickup backed out of a spot near the entrance, and I took the opening before anyone else could claim it.
Eli sat up straighter, taking it all in. “Okay, now I’m curious. What is this place?”
“You’ll see.” I put the car in park, my palms weirdly clammy as I gripped the wheel for a second longer than necessary.
He shot me a playful side-eye but didn’t push. Instead, he hopped out, stretching before falling into step beside me.
The second we stepped inside, warmth wrapped around us—grilled steak, fresh bread, the low hum of conversation weaving through the rustic space. Big-screen TVs lined the walls, sports highlights flashing between plays, the energy in the air electric but easy.
Eli let out a low whistle. “Damn, this is nice .” He turned to me, eyes bright with surprise. “You drove an hour just to bring me here?”
Heat rushed to my face. “Figured we could use a change of scenery,” I mumbled.
His gaze flickered over me like he was searching for something, then softened as a slow smile spread across his lips—one of those smiles that made my chest feel too tight. That smile. The one I was getting addicted to.
“Well, I love it,” he said, like I’d just given him the best damn gift in the world.
The hostess led us through the restaurant, weaving between tables packed with groups of friends, couples leaning in close, and the occasional lone guy nursing a beer while watching the game. The air buzzed with conversation, the clink of silverware against plates blending into the steady rhythm of the place.
As we slid into a booth near the back, something in my periphery caught my attention. A couple in the corner—two men in their mid-twenties. One was slender, dark brown hair falling into his eyes, his body angled toward the other like he was drawn by an invisible force. The other was broad, covered in tattoos, his posture relaxed but protective. Military, without a doubt. They weren’t paying attention to their food, too wrapped up in each other, eyes locked, soft smiles exchanged like the world around them didn’t exist.
My heart wept. Envy curled in my chest, sharp and sudden. They didn’t care who saw. They didn’t hesitate. Meanwhile, I couldn’t get three simple words out of my mouth: Eli’s my boyfriend.
I forced my gaze away, swallowing the ache that had lodged itself in my throat.
Eli, oblivious to my internal spiral, leaned back, taking in the space with that same intrigued expression. When the server dropped off menus, he barely glanced at his before smirking at me.
“You already know what you’re getting, don’t you?”
I huffed, flipping mine open just for show. “Maybe.”
He shook his head, amused. “You seriously get the same thing every time?”
I shrugged. “If it’s good, why mess with it?”
That earned me a dramatic eye roll before Eli turned his attention to his own menu, and a few minutes later, we placed our orders.
Eli, always effortlessly charming, teased me over my choice and stole fries off my plate with a smirk that made it impossible to care. We talked about nothing and everything, laughter slipping between us with the ease of something built naturally over time. His foot brushed against mine under the table, casual, lingering, and I didn’t pull away.
Then the restaurant door swung open, and the shift in energy was immediate.
Loud voices. Confident strides. The kind of presence that turned heads before people even registered why. I didn’t have to look—I could feel it. A group of guys walked in like they owned the place, their energy crackling with post-game adrenaline. Then I caught the flash of a team logo on a jacket sleeve, and my pulse kicked up.
Professional players. The visiting team.
Of course, they’d be celebrating somewhere after an away win in Michigan. And of course, with my luck, they’d pick the same damn steakhouse.
Eli leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued. “You know any of them?”
I gripped my glass a little tighter. I did. Probably more than I wanted to.
But before I could answer, a voice cut through the noise.
“Niall fucking Caldwell.”
Brady Langley.
Former teammate. Two years older. Already playing in the big leagues. A guy who knew me before I built the walls. Before the distance.
Brady’s grin didn’t waver as he reached our table, but instead of staying on his feet, he grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and turned it around, straddling it like he belonged there. Like we were still teammates shooting the shit after practice.
A few of his teammates lingered near the bar, watching but not intruding, their voices blending into the steady hum of the restaurant.
Brady’s gaze flicked to Eli, curiosity lighting behind his eyes. He waited. Expectantly.
My throat went dry. Panic flared fast, sharp. And before I could stop myself, before I could think through what the right thing to say was, the words were already leaving my mouth.
“This is my roommate, Eli.”
Eli stilled, just for a fraction of a second. But I saw it. Felt it. The way something inside him dimmed. Then, just as quickly, he masked it with an easy smile, extending his hand toward Brady. “Nice to meet you.”
Brady shook his hand, still grinning. “Roommate, huh?” The word echoed in my head like a taunt.
He didn’t linger on it, though. Instead, he leaned back and smirked at me. “Damn, Caldwell. Haven’t seen you in years, and you’re still the same.”
I huffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Brady shot Eli a knowing look. “Is he always this serious?”
Eli’s lips curled in a slow, teasing smile. “Oh, you have no idea.”
Brady laughed. “Man, back in the day? This guy was a menace. Full of attitude. Always chirping, always trying to out-skate everyone.” He shook his head. “I should dig up some old videos.”
Eli leaned forward, eyes alight with mischief. “Please do. I’d love to see what kind of trouble Niall got into.”
Brady grinned and pulled out his phone, but instead of searching for old clips, he flipped to his photo gallery. “Actually, I gotta show you this first.” He turned the screen toward us. A picture of a woman, beaming at the camera, eyes full of warmth. “She has no idea I’m about to propose. Think she’ll say yes?”
Eli didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. You look at her like she hung the moon.”
Brady’s grin softened. “Yeah. She’s everything, man.”
I swallowed hard. The words landed somewhere deep, in a place I tried to ignore. Because I wanted that. I wanted to be the one pulling out my phone, showing off the person I loved. I wanted to say he’s everything, man without worrying who was listening.
But instead, here I was, calling Eli my roommate while he played along, even though we both knew damn well what we were to each other.
The moment stretched between us, thick with unspoken things.
Then Brady clapped a hand on my shoulder. “All right, I’ll let you guys get back to it. Don’t be a stranger, Caldwell.”
And just like that, he was gone, rejoining his teammates at the bar.
Eli didn’t say anything right away. He just sat back, fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass, his expression unreadable.
But I knew.
Silence settled between us, thick enough to choke on.
I wanted to fix it. Wanted to take it back, rewind to the moment before my fear made me fuck it all up.
Eli was still smiling, still looking like nothing was wrong, but I knew better. I saw the way his fingers curled around the edge of the table, the way he didn’t meet my eyes right away. The shift was subtle, but it was there.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” I admitted, my voice lower than before.
Eli glanced at me then, his expression unreadable. “Said what?”
He was giving me an out. The chance to pretend it hadn’t just happened.
I swallowed hard. “You know what.”
For a beat, he held my gaze. And in that beat, I saw it—the hurt, the disappointment, the thing he wasn’t saying. But then he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it, Niall. It’s fine.”
It wasn’t fine.
I’d felt closer to him than ever tonight, and now, in the space of a single sentence, I’d created a distance I wasn’t sure how to bridge. And the worst part? I had no idea how to make things better.