Chapter Five Colin #2
Strong hands curl under my arms and hoist me off of the floor. I’m flooded with embarrassment as I try to hide my revolting, sweat-soaked, vomit-covered face from his perfect, handsome one.
He’s drunk too, but he’s fun drunk. I’m regretful, sick, wretched drunk.
With a laugh, he hauls me to the sink. When I see my reflection, I let out a groan. But Declan doesn’t hesitate to clean my face with frigid water and his bare hand. It’s humiliating and maybe a little comforting.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble in shame.
“Ach, don’t be sorry. She was a shite kisser anyway.”
“I’ll get a cab home alone. You go have fun,” I stammer as I force my eyes to focus on one reflection in the mirror when it keeps trying to create two.
Declan laughs again. “I think not, Shelby. We’ll be taking that cab together right after we have a little coffee to sober you up. I can’t have you retching all over England. You’re going to be famous someday, and famous guys don’t puke.”
As he slings an arm over my shoulder and leads me out the door, I lean into the comfort of his embrace. He smells familiar. Even his voice grounds me. After only three months, this stranger has somehow infiltrated my sense of home.
When we reach the crisp air of the night outside the pub, I suck it in and feel my head spin with how fresh and clean it is. Nothing like the stale, clammy air inside the building.
We stumble together like that, his arm around my shoulder and my face nearly pressed to his chest. I briefly wonder if this is normal. Would straight guys act this way? Who knows. I clearly have no frame of reference.
I’d like to think this is special. Declan doesn’t act this way with anyone else. It’s just another dangerous tendril of hope that’s fallen out of place. But no matter how hard I try to tuck it back where it belongs, it doesn’t stay.
The entire walk goes by in a blur. When we reach a small café open late for uni students, the quiet ambiance inside feels instantly more comfortable to me than the noisy atmosphere of the pub.
I find a large velvet-upholstered couch and plop onto it while Declan goes to the counter and orders two cappuccinos.
When he delivers mine, I inhale the scent, and it smells divine. This is much more my speed.
Declan sits on the chaise next to me. His hip and arm are both pressed against mine.
I hate myself for how much I think about these little things now. I want to go back to the way I felt earlier today when he was just a friend, and I didn’t relish every small moment for a brief sliver of hope that he might feel the same.
Of course he doesn’t, you fool.
“You okay, Shakespeare?” he asks quietly, nudging my elbow.
“Yeah,” I reply unconvincingly. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Do you want me to stop?” His voice is just above a whisper, and his head is turned in my direction, so I feel his breath on my ear. My stomach tightens, and my breathing stutters.
It’s an innocent question.
But those words and the way he whispered them went straight to my groin.
Turning toward him, our eyes meet as I match his volume with a delicate whisper. “No.”
The tense moment lingers, with our eyes boring into each other. With every passing second, my heart picks up speed and gathers more hope, like snowballing optimism.
Then, his mouth tugs into a bright smile. “Aye, good.”
I swallow my discomfort and turn forward, pretending like nothing just happened. I take a sip of my cappuccino as he leans in and asks, “So you wanna tell me what happened back there? You didn’t like the ginger?”
Managing a shrug, I reply, “She was fine. I just…drank too much.”
“She wasn’t your type.” He says it so matter-of-factly I feel momentarily off-balance. I glance at him as he adds, “Neither of them were.”
“I…” Closing my eyes in confusion, my brows furrow as I shake my head.
My response slips from my mind before I have the chance to utter it.
I don’t want to hide or lie to him. He left the opportunity for sex behind at that pub to bring me home.
Declan is more than a roommate at this point.
He’s my friend. And I don’t want a friendship built on lies.
“It’s all right, Shelby,” he says as he puts an arm around my shoulder. It’s playful and innocent. “I sort of figured it out.”
My eyes pop open. “You did?”
“Aye. You never talk about lasses you’ve hooked up with in school. I figured maybe you were just shy.”
I stiffen with discomfort. It’s like he discovered a secret I wasn’t even trying to keep.
The café is quiet, but the music playing overhead and the gentle cacophony of hushed conversations disguise our voices. I don’t respond as he continues.
“You can always tell me about the guys you’ve hooked up with. Doesn’t bother me any.”
A laugh slips through my lips.
“What’s so funny?” he whispers.
“I don’t have any blokes or lasses to tell you about.”
I’m definitely still drunk if I’m letting this secret out, but my inhibitions are down the drain back at that pub.
“You don’t mean…” he says with astonishment, turning toward me. His eyes are wide.
The couple at the table nearby glances our way as I shrink into the couch.
I nod with a tight smile. “Yep.”
“A virgin, Shakespeare?”
“As virginal as they come,” I reply.
“Well, virgins don’t really come, though, do they?” he asks, and we both break out in drunk chuckles.
“Not with a partner, they don’t,” I wheeze through my laughter.
Someone hushes us from across the café. So when our laughter dies, Declan shoots back the rest of his cappuccino and then pops up from the couch.
“Let’s get you home, virgin.”
As he puts a hand out toward me, the dim light of the café illuminating him from behind, I know there’s no hope trying to tame my heart now. The crush I’m forming on my new friend is too powerful. It’s a hurricane that’s decimated everything we were before this very moment.
“As long as you promise not to make that my new nickname,” I say as he pulls me up.
“Just until it doesn’t fit anymore,” he replies with a wink.
With that, he turns and leaves me two steps behind him. For a guy who is royally fucked and bound to have his heart broken, I’m in a pretty good mood.