Chapter 21 #2
I don’t get another second to think about making my escape. The stall door creaks open a fraction, and Orlando steps out, his black curls more rumpled than usual, and his expression as smug as shit.
“Oh, hi, Pi,” he says.
From the stall, Abs groans. “Noooooo.”
“Hey there, Lando. Is my best friend in there with you?” Jesus, why did I ask that? Orlando raises a brow, winks at me, then leaves. “How ya going, Abs?” I call out.
Another groan. “Alright, mate?” he says, emerging from the space. He is the physical embodiment of the word “squirming.”
I pretend as though I hadn’t stopped peeing hours ago, like I’m only just finishing up and haven’t been listening in on their conversation this whole time. Might as well wash my hands here now that my cover’s been blown. Ew, bad choice of words. I move over to the sink.
Abs’s face is practically radioactive. He’s so far beyond red that it almost looks as though I’m viewing him through an infrared filter. “So . . . uh, how much of that did you hear?” he asks.
I watch him for a while, decide what level of honesty I want to take with him. He’s my best friend and he’s super vulnerable. I’m going to be very honest, and maybe it’s a good opportunity to bond over something else.
“Everything, mate. I heard everything.” I give him an apologetic look but use the mirror as a buffer. He’s harrowed. “And it’s disgusting, by the way.”
“What?”
“Cum. It tastes disgusting. Girls are lying to spare our feelings. It tastes like . . . Mate, have you ever been writing Christmas cards and you’ve got about a hundred envelopes to lick, and there’s always like one or two that, after you lick them, you want to slice off your tongue and lob it out of the window? ”
“The fuck?”
“That’s what cum tastes like.” Oh no, why am I telling him this? He’s going to ask me how I know, and whose cum I’ve tasted. I’ll just pretend that I’ve tried my own. Yeah, that’ll work. “Best to line up the nozzle with the back of your throat before you spray the cream. If you know what I mean.”
Fuck.
Fuck my fucking mouth.
I’ve only got one option, and that option is hightailing it out of there. I take it, leaving a bewildered Abs at the sink by himself.
Eggo’s standing at the bar and Snatch is nowhere to be seen so I grab my opportunity. It’s now or never.
“Can we talk?” I say, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Sure. Gimme a sec . . .”
I wait beside him until the bartender places two pints of Guinness on the counter.
“Here you go,” Eggo says, passing me one. I’m certain the drink was originally intended for Snatch, and that I’ve done enough peeing to last a lifetime, but I accept it regardless. “Wasson?”
Everyone else is already two sheets to the wind. It’s loud in the bar, and I’m convinced we won’t be overheard, but even still, I guide him over to the corner next to the booths.
“What seems to be the problem, my good man?” he says.
Right, just ask him. Just come out and ask him why he didn’t come to the lice room like the other times.
“Uh . . .” Do it, Aiden, ask him now. “What’s . . . snowballing?”
Eggo barks out a laugh. “You what?” He knows that’s not the question I meant to ask him, but he beckons me forward and whispers in my ear. “I suck you off, then spit your own cum into your mouth.”
I back away from him, a look of pure disgust on my face. “That’s grotty as fuck.”
He’s still laughing. “What did you really want to ask me?”
“Whyweren’tyoutherethismorning?” The words come out all as one. “In the lice room. I . . . waited for you, but you never came.”
“Wait . . .” He threads his fingers through his beard. “I thought you said you and Georgia were an item now. Aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah, we are.”
His answering expression is of utter bewilderment. “You told me, ‘I don’t know if I can be the guy who cheats on his girlfriend.’”
“I did say that, didn’t I?”
He nods. “Honestly, those words have been floating around in my brain since the moment you said them.”
“They have?”
“I knew that as soon as you and George became exclusive, whatever we were doing had to stop.”
Urgh, he’s right. This had been our agreement all along. It doesn’t stop the disappointment rising in my stomach like seven pints of Guinness, though.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I only didn’t show up because I thought that’s what you wanted. Honestly, if I’d known you were waiting for me, I would’ve fucking smashed down that door to get there.”
It makes me feel a little better, but not much. There’s still a weird, unidentifiable ache lurking in my chest.
“Yeah, no, you’re right.” I straighten out my shirt collar, let out a breath. “I guess it’s just that . . . if I’d known our last time together was gonna be our last time, well, I would’ve . . .”
“Bent me over the back of the sofa and fucked me?”
I laugh and look around at our surroundings. Nobody notices or cares, it seems. “Well . . . yeah.”
Eggo combs through his hair. He has a fresh wound from today’s match below his right eye, and the beginnings of a shiner are blossoming.
“Okay . . . okay . . . So, I’m going to get a taxi back to my place now because I’m super tired all of a sudden.
” He fakes a yawn. “We could . . . share a taxi, you know, save money and all that. And I won’t say anything to anyone if you maybe wanted to hang out at my place for a bit.
There’s still one major thing to tick off our list of things to try, so .
. . if you fancy checking that one thing off, I think that’s more than okay. I see nothing wrong with that.”
“Well . . . when you put it like that . . .”
Fuck, I’ve got a girlfriend. I should thank him for clearing the air and leave. Do I really want to jeopardise whatever future I might have with Georgia for one last spin with Eggo? Is it worth it?
Actually . . . yes. He is.
“We could . . . just try it once. Get it out of our systems?” I suggest, locking eyes with him.
“Oh, for sure. We’ll only do it the one time. And it’s not like you guys have even been official for longer than twenty-four hours yet.”
I don’t tell him we made that decision on Thursday. Semantics. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt either of us.
“I haven’t prepped,” I say.
Eggo’s hand closes on my hip. “Do you need to? I read that not every person needs it. And you literally washed your butthole about two hours ago. I watched you. Plus, I have . . . the necessary tools at my house if you wanted to get ready there.”
“Okay, one . . .” I hold up a finger. “You’re doing your own research now?”
“Yes. Though I’m not sure how much of it qualifies as research and how much is simply just bashing one out to porn.”
I shrug and see-saw my hands. I guess I’m also guilty of that. “And two, you were watching me in the showers? Like how?”
His thumb slips up under the hem of my shirt and grazes the bare flesh above my hip bone. “I’m always watching you, princess.”
“I’ll book an Uber,” I say.