Chapter Sixteen Colin
Chapter Sixteen
Colin
Eleven years ago
Dublin
“But I don’t give a shite about rugby!” Declan shouts over the din of cheers and applause around us.
“I know!” I reply with a laugh. I’m on my feet and cheering anyway, my shoes sticking to the beer-soaked floor of the arena.
Declan takes a sip of his ale with a grimace as he watches the players on the field.
He looks disgusted and miserable, and if I wasn’t so happy to see him, I would feel bad for dragging him here.
“Then why are we here?” he complains.
The cheers die down, so Declan and I take our seats with the rest of the people in the stands. Turning toward him, I look into his eyes, soaking up the warm familiarity of those rich brown irises.
It’s our second summer meeting since uni. Last summer was shortly after graduation, and it was short and uneventful. He had a few days in London with his sister, and we spent it together, feeling chaperoned and awkward.
Apparently, his family is going through a lot with his older brother, and it wasn’t the best time for him to go away for too long, which I understand. So I didn’t press it.
But this year, for ten whole days, he’s all mine.
“Because,” I say while the players on the pitch run to the sidelines for a quick break. “We’re in Ireland, and their team is in the finals, so how could we not come?”
There’s more cheering as the players return to the scrum, but I can feel Declan shaking his head beside me. “And you couldn’t afford box seats or something?” he asks. “I could have if you had just asked.”
Chuckling, I turn toward him and nudge his shoulder. “That’s not our style. I wanted to sit down with the people and experience a real match. Besides…these tickets were a hefty price as it is.”
“I’m sure,” he groans.
“Just get drunk and have some fun, Declan!”
For a while, we get into the game, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy. Ironically, Declan has never looked more disgruntled. He’s hating every moment of this, and soon, I should really put him out of his misery.
When Ireland takes a healthy lead over Belgium, I nod toward the exit, and Declan says a prayer of thanks. We squeeze our way out, and I feel the beer buzz hit me before we’ve even left the stadium.
While we’re walking next to each other back to our rental flat, Declan glances up and stares at me for a moment.
“You’ve changed,” he says.
The grin on my face tugs a little wider. “Have I?”
“Yeah. Something about you is different. You got a boyfriend or something?” he asks stiffly.
A laugh bursts through my lips. “God, no.”
“Then, what is it?”
Spinning around, I walk backward on the uneven cobblestones as I stare at Declan with glee. Stretching my arms out, I say, “I don’t know, Dec. Maybe I’m just happy.”
“Then, you do like it in London?” he asks with a furrowed brow.
“No,” I groan. “I mean happy here with you. I’m with my best friend again, and everything is right in the world.”
For the first time tonight, he cracks a smile.
“I’m sorry I’m being a dick. I had fun at the match,” he says after a moment.
“No, you didn’t,” I laugh as I grab his arm and walk by his side. “But the night is still young. Let’s find a pub to get drunk in.”
“Now, that sounds like a plan,” he replies with enthusiasm, throwing his arm over my shoulder.
* * *
Declan and I find a pub with a lively band playing and a free table in the corner. Within the first hour, we’re both two shots and two pints in, and I’m rightfully pissed.
I don’t normally drink, mostly because I don’t feel comfortable around people the way I do with Declan. With him, I can be as drunk and sloppy and silly as I want, and he doesn’t judge me for it.
Declan has a higher alcohol tolerance than I do, so he stays mostly right-minded while I can feel just how belligerent I’ve become.
“Slow down there, Shakespeare,” he says as I wave the bartender down for another round.
“What do you mean slow down?” I ask with a slur in my voice. “We’re celebrating!”
“You’ll be celebrating with your head in the loo again,” he replies with a snigger. “And you’re gonna have a massive hangover tomorrow.”
“I don’t care,” I mutter.
What I don’t say—because I have a thread of inhibition left—is that I’m also drinking tonight because I can’t stop thinking about how we left things last year.
That kiss.
That blow job.
I can’t bring it up if I’m sober, but I’m dying to know what exactly this makes us. Can we pick up where we left off? Is his offer still on the table? Are there more things he’s willing to help me check off my list? Does he even want that?
The sober part of me knows that nothing has really changed for Declan. It was purely physical, and he did it because he was my best friend. He’ll never look at me as anything more, but that hopeful part of my brain is clinging on for dear life.
“All right, out with it,” Declan says as the bartender drops another round of drinks in front of us.
“Out with what?” I ask.
“I want to know if you’ve been putting those new skills of yours to any use since I saw you last,” he says before lifting the beer to his lips.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply smugly with a smirk on my face.
“Horse shite. You can’t fool me, Colin Shelby,” he says.
“I’m not fooling you,” I reply with a laugh.
“Are you telling me that mouth of yours has gone completely unused in the last year?”
My cheeks heat as blood rushes to the surface.
That mouth, he said.
My mouth.
He speaks about it so intimately. So filthily. God, I’d do anything to let him use it again.
“I beg your pardon,” I reply flirtatiously. “As a matter of fact, this mouth has gone completely unused since I saw you last.”
“Well, that’s a fucking waste,” he says before taking another shot.
I bite my bottom lip, watching as his throat moves with the swallow of the alcohol. This entire conversation is so incredibly sexy and enticing, but I’m still not entirely sure that it’s not just all in my head.
“And why would that be a waste?” I ask.
“You know damn well why,” he replies, staring me in the eye.
“So you’re saying I was pretty good then?” I ask.
“Aye, you know fucking damn well you were good,” he says with a smirk. “You might have ruined all future blow jobs for me,” he adds. “I got one a few months ago that paled in comparison.”
I’m caught somewhere between a flutter of excitement and a souring of jealousy hearing that someone else has put their mouth where mine has been. It stings to hear that, but mine was better, and that comment goes straight to my dick.
Feeling bold, I let out a sigh and shrug. “Fine, Declan, I’ll suck your dick again.”
He nearly chokes on his drink when he hears me. “Colin Shelby,” he says with a gasp. “What a dirty little slut you’ve turned into.”
A cackle escapes my lips as I throw my head back with a laugh.
“Hardly,” I reply. “But for you, I will be.”
Declan laughs over the top of his pint glass but quickly averts his eyes. I’m engulfed in embarrassment as I realize what I just said. We’re not there. I just took things too far because I’m drunk.
“I didn’t mean that,” I stutter.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re drunk, Shakespeare,” he replies casually. “And I brought it up.”
It’s like I’ve been doused with cold water, turning my excitement into dread. Quickly, I grab the shot waiting for me on the table and toss back the burning whisky.
Within minutes, my vision doubles, and my head starts to spin as I stare straight ahead at the crowd of people filling the pub.
“You all right, Shakespeare?” Declan asks, but it sounds like he’s far away.
“No, I’m still a bloody virgin,” I stammer drunkenly. “And the only person I’ve ever had the guts to even touch is my best friend. How pathetic.”
He rests a hand on my shoulder, but I can barely feel it. “You are not pathetic, Colin.” His tone is serious and scolding, as if I’ve suddenly pissed him off by talking bad about myself.
“What is wrong with me?” I mumble.
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
Declan stands from the table and slides his hands under my arms. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“It’s time to go home, Shakespeare.”
“I don’t want to go home,” I argue.
“Too bad, lover boy.”
Once he gets me to my feet, he wraps an arm around my shoulders to maneuver me through the crowd toward the door. I plant my feet and pull myself out from under his arm.
“Stop calling me names,” I say, but the words are difficult to manage—each one feels like a wad of chewing gum in my mouth that I have to speak around.
“Okay, I’ll stop,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender.
I’m growing irritable with the way he’s talking to me and trying to force me out of the bar.
“I’m not a child,” I argue when I feel the brisk night air hit my lungs. I shove him angrily and try to storm away, but my foot catches the cobblestones, and I tumble into the brick wall of the pub.
Declan is there in an instant, hauling me back to my feet.
I expect him to wrap a hand around my shoulders and guide me.
What I don’t expect is his warm hand circled around my throat and his body forcing me against the wall.
Suddenly, his face is inches from mine, and the tone of his voice drops an octave as something between us changes.
“You listen to me,” he mutters assertively. “I know you’re not a child, but you’re acting like one right now. I am trying to help you, so you are going to do what I say. Understand?”
I can’t explain the way his words affect me.
I don’t know if it’s arousal or the alcohol, but something about the way he’s talking to me right now with his grip on my neck has me nearly melting into the cobblestones.
I’d do anything he asked. I turn into a passive, obedient pile of flesh for him with one word.
“Yes,” I reply in a whisper.
He doesn’t let go and only leans in closer. “You are my best bloody friend, so stop talking about yourself like that and just let me take care of you.”
My head tilts, and although I see two of him, I stare into his eyes—both sets—and let his words sink in. I am his best friend. And he will always take care of me.
And if I push this with him and try to make him love me in a different way than he does now, I could ruin it.
Wordlessly, I nod.
“Good,” he mutters before releasing my throat. My skin misses his touch immediately.
I cling to his arm, looping mine around his as he leads me back to the flat. And as much as I try to make sense of what just happened, I can’t. I just know I’ve never felt so at peace as I did when he had me under that spell, when he had me under his control, when I was fully surrendered to him.
I don’t know if it was all in my head or if Declan did that on purpose, but now that I know what it feels like to have his power over me, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let it go.