Chapter Nine Colin
Chapter Nine
Colin
Twelve years ago
Oxford
The pub is packed, as it always is during the last week of the term. Declan has a table of eight enthralled with his story: two girls on either side of him, a few guys from our year, and then me. Although I’ve heard this story a hundred times already, it’s his favorite to tell.
“So that fucker,” he says with a drunk slur, pointing at me with an unlit cigarette, “decides to take off sprinting, piss drunk and stumbling all over the place.”
The table erupts with laughter, and even the girls turn toward me with smiles, but I only shake my head at Declan.
Of course, he’s embellishing the story a bit.
He’s telling them about the time we nicked a bottle of champagne at the Eiffel Tower from a couple of tourists making out on their picnic blanket.
It was the summer between years two and three when we decided to ditch our families and spend a week in the City of Light.
I didn’t take off sprinting, and the police didn’t chase us. But I was piss drunk. That part was accurate.
“We got away with it,” I say with a shrug.
“Aye, we did,” he replies. “And we had a very romantic evening drinking bubbly while we watched the tower sparkle.”
“Très romantique,” one of the girls says with a bad French accent.
My eyes trail downward as I remember the rest of that night, and it actually wasn’t romantic at all. We got wicked headaches from the cheap champagne, got sick, and passed out in our hotel room. Nothing that I desperately wanted to happen with Declan that night happened.
It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve successfully managed to conceal my ever-growing feelings for Declan over the years. I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all. And I refuse to say or do anything that could jeopardize that.
For four years, I’ve suffocated this attraction.
For four years, I’ve had to listen to his sexual escapades, all with women.
Four years I’ve had the words on the tip of my tongue, wishing I could just tell him how I feel.
Four years I’ve held off from pursuing others.
And now, we’re about to graduate. He promises we’ll still meet up every summer, but what if that starts to fade?
He’ll find love with someone else. New friends. New adventures. A new life.
What if this is it?
What if I spend the rest of my life regretting not telling him how I feel?
Declan gets into a private conversation with one of the girls while I’m staring at the messy, beer-stained table, lost in my thoughts of regret and fear.
“So did you?” a low voice to my left asks.
Glancing up, I stare into the eyes of a handsome, well-dressed British man I know from my literature class. I think his name is Niall.
“Did I what?” I reply.
“Did you two enjoy a very romantic evening alone in Paris?”
There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he lifts his beer to his lips and takes a drink. I pause for a moment, trying to gauge what is happening. Is he being serious?
“Uh…no,” I stutter with a shake of my head. “He’s being daft. We’re just friends.”
“Pity,” Maybe-Niall replies. “I mean…not that you’re just friends, but that you didn’t have a romantic…” He shakes his head with a wince of embarrassment. “You know what, ignore me. I’m drunk and I sound like an idiot.”
Okay, I think he’s flirting with me.
I glance up toward Declan, but his attention is focused on the woman. I’m not used to men flirting with me, and I need my friend for guidance or something.
“You don’t sound like an idiot,” I reply comfortingly.
When he laughs, I let my gaze rake over his features. He’s very handsome, with deep, rich eyes and perfect white teeth. Could I see myself with someone like him? If he wanted to get me naked, would I let him?
“I’m Niall,” he says casually.
So I was right.
“Colin,” I reply putting out my hand for him to shake.
“I know who you are,” Niall says, and it makes me pause.
“We’re in the same lit class,” he adds in a rush when he realizes his response sounded a touch clingy.
I laugh to ease his nerves. He’s obviously uncomfortable.
My laughter catches the attention of Declan across the table, and I feel his scrutinizing gaze on my face. I like the idea of keeping his attention, so I continue to flirt with Niall just to see Dec’s reaction.
“Any plans after graduation?” he asks.
“Going back to London,” I reply. “Hopefully, working on the West End if I can.”
“An actor?”
I nod. “Yes. Or at least, I hope so.”
“You have a face for the screen,” Niall replies, and I swear he’s sitting a little closer than he was a moment ago. Our eyes lock, and I let his compliment wash over me.
Has a man ever called me handsome before? Other than Declan, who I assume is usually taking a jab. The exhilaration of this man’s compliment seems new as warmth and arousal floods my bloodstream. I want more.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Shakespeare, you need another shot.” Declan’s voice bellows across the table, stealing my focus from the man I’m speaking to.
“I’ll get one for you,” Niall says before placing a hand on my knee.
I glare playfully at Declan as I reply to Niall. “No, Declan is saying he needs another shot, and he wants me to get it for him.”
Declan shoots me a wink, and I grit my teeth in annoyance—although the annoyance isn’t real. I could never be truly mad at him.
As I climb up from my seat at the table, Niall follows. When we reach the bar, he stands next to me.
“Does your friend always boss you around like that?” he asks, sounding worried. I let out a laugh.
“Yes, but it’s not like that.” I wave down the bartender and gesture for two whiskey shots. She knows us well enough by now that I don’t even have to say it out loud.
“Not like what?” he asks.
“It’s not like he’s abusing me,” I say. Hearing how defensive I sound gives me pause.
“I mean…he’s my best mate. We take the piss out of each other sometimes.
If anything, he hates how much of a pushover I can be.
He’s always on my ass, telling me to stick up for myself more.
Or tell him to fuck off when he bosses me around. ”
The bartender delivers our shots, and I pick them up before turning back toward our table.
“Do you?” Niall asks. “Ever tell him to fuck off?”
I laugh. “All the time.”
Do I ever mean it? No.
I pass both shots to Declan, but he nudges one back toward me with his signature wink. With an eye roll, I toss it back and grimace. Then, I shake my head and return to my new friend, waiting for me with a beer in his hand.
Instead of sitting back at the table, Niall and I inch our way over to a more secluded corner.
“So what about you?” I ask. “What are your plans after graduation?”
He lets out a disgruntled sigh. “Ugh, probably go work with my dad,” he says. “Engineering.”
“Oh,” I reply, with a raise of my brow. “You’re smart then.”
This makes him laugh, and I like the sound of it. He has such a nice smile, I want to make him laugh again.
“In some circles, yes, I guess,” he replies.
We carry on with some more small talk, but it’s so loud in here that Niall has to continually inch toward me to hear what I’m saying. When he’s nearly a breath away from my face, his eyes meet mine, and a chill runs down my spine.
“What do you say we get out of here?” he asks loudly.
The two beers and one shot I’ve had tonight help loosen the stiffness in my bones. Niall is so handsome. Hot, even. So why does the idea of going somewhere with him, kissing him, touching him, feeling his body against mine, make me so nervous?
I’m twenty-two bloody years old. I’m too old to be a virgin. It’s humiliating. At this point, I don’t even know what to do. Should I tell him this? Would he be understanding? Maybe he’s a virgin too.
My gaze flits over to where Declan is still talking to the girls at the table. If I leave, I should tell him or he’ll worry. Then again, it’s not like he’s never gone home with someone. Chances are he’ll end up in the bed of one of these women.
There’s an unspoken rule with Declan that we don’t bring people home to our room, mostly because it’s so small and our beds are far too close for anything to happen in the vicinity of the other.
But I’ve never been in this situation before. So what am I waiting for? It’s not like I can save myself for Declan. And yet I still feel a hint of guilt as I nod to Niall.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
With a smile, he takes my hand in his and tugs me through the crowd toward the door. I keep glancing back toward Declan to be sure he isn’t watching. Why? I don’t know.
“Does your boyfriend know you’re leaving with another man?” A cruel, deep-toned, nasally voice says from in front of Niall. I look up to find Malcolm standing there laughing with his big ugly, pockmarked face.
Malcolm has been a constant source of torment since we started our first year at uni. He’s disgusting, cruel, idiotic, and I suspect a bigot as well. He hates me and Declan.
“Fuck off, Malcolm,” I say as I try to move around him.
“I’m telling,” he teases, although he lets me pass.
When Niall and I reach the cool air outside the pub, I shove my hands into my pockets as we walk side by side. I let him lead the way because, again, there’s no chance I’m going back to my room, and I’m pretty sure he lives alone in a flat downtown. Or so I’ve heard.
I should probably ask where we’re headed, but I feel the need to tread lightly. I don’t want to ruin a good thing.
“What’s wrong with that guy?” he asks as we walk.
“He’s a prick,” I reply.
“And you and that guy back at the table…you’re not boyfriends, right?” Niall asks.
“Declan?” I reply. “No. He’s my roommate, and besides, Declan is straight,” I say.
Niall’s eyes are on me as we walk slowly side by side. “And you are…” His voice trails.
Glancing up and looking into his eyes, I give him a smirk. “Not.”