by A. S. Kelly
“This is a nice place.”
“They opened it a while ago. A few guys from the team were looking to invest in something and this is the result – The Bridge.”
“Right next to the stadium and the training centre. Very strategic.”
“Exactly. It’s always full of die-hard fans and women out on the pull.”
“Sounds fun,” he says sarcastically.
“Not for me.”
“Sure. We’re always there.”
I swallow down the mouthful I’ve got and avoid looking at him.
“Ah, Ian.”
“Shut your mouth.”
We both drink in silence, waiting for the alcohol to calm our nerves; mine, because I’m feeling antsy, and his, which I sense are probably tenser than mine, even if I can’t help hoping he chokes on his pint – just for one less thing to deal with.
I take out my phone and set it on the bar. I look at it constantly, I can’t help it.
What am I hoping for?
“Still glued to your phone?”
Ryan’s got a death wish. He wants to die, tonight, in this bar.
“Mind your own damn business,” I growl.
“There’s only one person that gets you like this.”
I don’t bother looking at him.
“See, we’re talking about her again. It’s always about her.”
“Piss off, Ryan!”
“You can take it out on me if it makes you feel better.”
“Not as much as I’d like.”
He stands up, grabbing his beer.
“I’m going to say hi to the guys. Make a fucking decision. I can’t stand you like this for much longer, mate.”
He can’t stand me much longer?
I turn to face the room and rest my back against the bench behind me. Ryan goes to a table where a few of the guys from the team are hanging out. He sits down and starts chatting with them. I try not to choke on my own heart, which seems to now have taken up residence in my throat.
I look at my phone again.
I grab it and walk briskly out of the pub.
I’m already on my way to her house when I hit the green button, because my stupid heart always leads me to her street. I know I should ignore it, push it down, tape it up and throw it in a secret underground location, but it just doesn’t want to be kept hostage any longer.
“H-hey…” she stammers in surprise.
My heart almost explodes in my chest. And all I did was hear her speak for half a second.
“I just wanted to hear your voice,” I tell her honestly.
She sighs on the other end of the line.
It’s useless to make up a story, that’s not what she wants. She’s looking for the truth and I’m going to have to give it to her.
“How was work today? Was it a rough day?” I ask because I really want to know.
What she does. How she lives. When she breathes.
“It was pretty intense. I just got home.”
“I bet you haven’t eaten yet.”
“Well, no, I haven’t had time. I was just going to see what my fridge has on offer,” she jokes.
Riley joking around. How long has it been since I’ve heard that?
“Can I stop by? If you’re not too tired.”
“Stop by? What do you mean?”
“I’d like to spend some time with you.”
“Oh…”
“Would that be alright?”
“I guess so.”
Hope courses through my veins. For once, it hasn’t landed me in a ditch instead.
“I’ll bring dinner. Is pizza okay?”
“Perfect.”
“Tell me how you like it.”
“W-what?!” she stammers.
I smile internally.
“The pizza, Riley. How do you like your pizza?”
“Oh…” her voice drops. “The pizza…I don’t mind, you choose.”
“Riley…”
“Yeah?”
“I want to know what you like.”
I really do.
“I don’t know, maybe pepperoni and mushroom?”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I park outside her house and jump off my bike. I go to the door but before I can knock, she opens it.
I don’t think I’m prepared for it at all.
The sight of her is something painful yet necessary. It’s a cocktail of fear and hope. It’s my worst nightmare come to visit me when I least expect it, and my most beautiful dream coming true. It’s an enormous mistake, but the best decision in the world.
She stands there in the doorway, smiling innocently with some terrible striped socks and a tracksuit that would be big enough for me to get in there with her.
Raw, vulnerable, beautiful.
I’m sure she has no idea the effect she’s having on me, the fire that is starting from all corners of my body and growing more dangerous with every damn minute I spend with her.
“How did you get that pizza here on your motorbike?”
“Huh?” I get my thoughts together.
“I was saying…oh, it doesn’t matter,” she smiles again.
Fuck.
“Er…I’ve only got one chair.”
I shrug, “We can eat on the bed.”
When I say the word bed her cheeks go aflame and I can’t help feeling pleased by her reaction.
“If that’s alright with you.”
Everything, Riley. All of it’s alright. I’d take anything, as long as you’re the one giving it to me.
“Did you say something?”
Did I just say that out loud?
I shake my head. She smiles again.
Fuck, this is killing me. If she keeps this up, everything’ll go up in flames. My respect, my guilt and my fear that someone will rip me to shreds.
We sit on the bed, careful not to touch, but that’s fine. It’s understandable. It’s probably too intimate a situation for both of us. It’s going too quickly.
“Would you like some wine?”
“Water’s fine, I’ve got to drive.”
“Oh yeah, of course. I’ll get you a bottle, I didn’t think of that.”
“I’ll get it,” I say, standing up and going to the kitchen. I act like it’s my place, as if I were a regular presence here, when actually I’ve only been here once before.
But I still feel at home. She’s the only place I feel at home.
I take a deep breath and take a few sips of water to calm the tension. When I go back, I find her with a piece of pizza in her mouth and my heart starts hammering again.
“What?” she says with her mouth full.
Jesus, Riley.
If only I’d danced with you that damn night.
If only I hadn’t let you go.
If only I weren’t terrified out of my mind.
If only someone hadn’t taken everything from me.
I would’ve given you every part of me; unconditionally.
22
Riley
Ray gave me a ride home in his car. We finished late tonight and no one felt like walking home. We had a show at eight that I was working on, and after closing and everything, when I got out of his car it was already eleven.
I threw myself onto the bed, my hands over my face, attempting to keep away the thoughts that have engulfed my mind since I saw him at the hospital that day.
I tried to keep some distance between us, to be indifferent and show him his charm had no effect on me. I even tried treating him badly.
Nothing worked.
I’ve learned to fake it through the years, to mask all of my emotions and to let people only see what they wanted to see in me – to give off what they were willing to accept or understand. But it’s useless to do it with him. It’s useless to pretend I don’t tremble when he talks to me, or try not to blush when he looks at me, or lose my breath when he gets too close.
Ian O’Connor is everywhere. He invades your life and takes control of it. He’s all ov
er me, covering me like a second skin. It’s as if he can feel all of my emotions. He’s dangerous. He’s something I should avoid if I want to stay on my feet because he hears everything, even if he says nothing.
Even if you try to hide yourself, he finds you; and I’m not sure I want him to.
But when I heard his voice on the phone, something in me flickered. All the memories, the wounds, the fear turned around. All I thought about were our nights curled up on the sofa, close, relaxed. Of our chats, and the laughing. Of all of those looks full of meaning. Of what I felt when I was in his arms. Of what I still feel, what I always do if I close my eyes and let my heart speak freely.
I let my feelings run free just for a second and something invaded me, something stronger than fear, stronger than the past, disappointment and refusal. Stronger even than the solitude I’ve carried around with me my entire life. It’s something I’ve been forced to live with, something I’ve become used to. A gap that only he can fill. He feels it, exactly like I do.
Because loneliness isn’t something you can see or touch, but you feel it. You feel it in your head, in your body and your veins.
You feel it in your heart. It sleeps with you, eats with you, accompanies you to work.
It lives with you.
And you feed off of it. You give it space, let it take control of you. You simply let it be. You can’t fight it.
And as much as you can surround yourself with people, you still feel it because it becomes a part of you. It almost becomes comforting, because you can count on it being there and in some way it’s your only loyal companion.
And yet, with him, I don’t feel it. For once in my life it’s loneliness that is excluded, not me – and I think that’s only possible with one person in this world. The only other person who shares your loneliness in his heart and is afraid to let it go.
That person has found his way back into my house, and into my life.
He asked me for a chance and I’m giving him one – well, my heart is. I’m giving him my trust.
I’m letting him into my little hideaway.
I’m giving him a part of myself.
A year ago, Ian O’Connor broke my heart. A year later, I’m ready to let him do it again.
Ian comes back from the kitchen with two bottles of water in his hands but as soon as I look at him, he stops still in the doorway.
“What?” I ask him with my mouth full.
I’m not able to spit out an entire phrase because the way the looks at me makes my stomach flutter, a sensation I thought I’d left in the past.
His face opens into a big smile, showing off his perfect teeth. I realise he’s got a chipped tooth and a busted lip that give him a sexy, mischievous look, that his body is filling in the doorway like it were a picture frame – and here I am staring at him, as my stomach does a double flip.
I feel my cheeks burning and a strange sensation threatens my body, unable to respond to the alarm signals.
He smiles cheekily as he goes to sit down and I swallow my pizza. I shake my head a little, causing my glasses to slip down my nose. He lifts a hand and with one finger, pushes them back into place. I could faint from the emotion that overwhelms me.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before nailing me with his eyes again.
“Are you free on Sunday? At about three o’clock? There’s a game and I’ve got tickets, you know, for friends, relatives…I thought that maybe…you know, if you felt like it…”
“Are you asking me to come to the stadium to watch a game?” I say already in a panic.
“Am I going too fast?”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “Maybe.”
“I just don’t like wasting time,” he says, raising the corner of his mouth in a grin. “I don’t want to miss out on anything else.”
My God.
“I know you don’t care much about rugby, but I’d be happy if you came.”
“Why is it so important to you?” I ask curiously.
“One time you made a comment that maybe, for the right player, you might change your mind about rugby. I think I could be your player.” He comes dangerously close to me. “I want to be your player.”
I swallow nervously. “I can’t believe you remember that stupid conversation.”
“It was the first time you came to visit the training centre a few nights after that infamous party. I remember a lot of things, Riley.” His voice drops a tone. “Maybe too many,” he goes on suggestively.
“That almost sounds like a challenge.”
“It is. I’m very competitive.”
“You might lose,” I provoke him.
“I have no intention of losing,” he says confidently. “I’m an O’Connor and the O’Connors never lose.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“I’ll risk it,” his voice lowers again and I feel my legs trembling.
“So…S-Sunday,” I say, trying to pull it together.
“Aviva Stadium at three.”
“I could drop by.”
“Seriously?” he asks, suddenly excited.
“I’d like to.”
He tries to mask a smile by touching his nose with his hand and I try to mask my embarrassment attempting to bury myself four feet under the ground.
“I hope Jamie won’t be upset, he’s been asking me to come for years, but he’s never convinced me.”
“I’m not Jamie,” he says, so certain.
No, nothing like him.
“So, see you there?”
“You’ll see me there, even if you’ll never even notice me with all those adoring fans,” I joke, but he doesn’t smile.
His face becomes serious and his eyes darken slightly. He closes the distance between us and slowly his hand drops to mine, brushing it slightly, giving me goosebumps.
His fingers intertwine with mine, perfectly, even though his hand is double the size of mine. His is hot and strong and mine is cold and weak. His is covered in calluses and mine is smooth and delicate. His squeezes mine from need and mine is squeezed in necessity.
There is no more perfect union, and my heart starts to regain its faith.
“I would be aware of your presence, Riley. I would always feel it, anywhere, even if I don’t see you. I’ll know.”
23
Riley
One year earlier
“What’s wrong?” he asks me, out of the blue.
I’m on the sofa, distractedly watching the TV next to him but he’s not interested.
“You’re acting strange.”
I look at him with an eyebrow raised.
“Are you alright?”
“Uh-huh,” I respond vaguely.
“You didn’t eat tonight.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You haven’t been eating much recently.”
“You’re not checking up on me, are you?”
I stand up, annoyed, and turn off the TV. I shouldn’t have come to his house tonight, just like I shouldn’t have done for the past five nights. The fact is, I need to be here. This is the only place where breathing doesn’t seem so painful.
“I shouldn’t have just showed up at your house like this. You must have your things to do, your…meetings,” I say, feeling jealousy fill my lungs.
“What are you talking about?”
“I drop in at your house with no warning, I make myself at home, eat your food,” I sputter, almost hysterically. “Maybe you’d like to go out with someone or…take her to bed, not hang out with your friend’s sister.” The words come out blunt and angry.
“What the hell are you on about? Did I ever give you the impression that I didn’t want you here?”
“No, but—”
“What’s the problem, then?”
I shake my head, slip on my shoes and grab my jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s late, I’m going.”
“Have I said something wrong? You seem upset.�
�
“I’m not.”
“You are. I don’t want you to leave like this.”
“Everything’s fine, I’m just tired.”
“Then stay.”
I snap my head up and look him in the eye.
“You said it yourself, it’s late, it doesn’t make sense for you to leave. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
I feel my cheeks go red, my whole body too.
“Oh, go on, what’s the big deal?” he says, playing it down.
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s go,” he reaches his hand out to me. “I can lend you one of my shirts.”
I follow him, speechless, towards the bed. I stand there watching while he digs around in his drawer, pulling out a t-shirt for me. He hands it to me and I accept it, digging up a little smile.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” he says, heading towards the bathroom.
I sit there motionless for a few seconds, confused and scared by the situation. I slip my shoes back off and slide out of my jeans. I pull off my jumper and throw it on the floor. I put his t-shirt on, which comes down to my knees. It’s huge, just like him. I grab the collar and bring it to my nose.
I inhale. Sharply. I fill my lungs and my heart with his scent. I sigh like an idiot and then snap my head up as I sense his presence behind me.
Ian overshadows me completely with his body, pushing me with his shoulders against a wall. He looks down at me, my legs shaking.
It’s not from fear. He could never frighten me.
“Something’s not right here.”
I try to avoid eye contact.
“Riley.”
“I don’t—”
“You’re hiding something from me, and I’m aware of it, you know that?”
“That’s not true.” I stammer unconvincingly.
“Don’t hide from me.”
“I’m…not.”
“I want to see you.”
All of my muscles go rigid.
“You might not like it,” I whisper, barely audible.
“You’ll never know if you don’t give it a try,” he says, with a face that lets me know exactly what he’s thinking.
The problem is that I like what I see. His large, defined shoulders. The muscles in his arms as his hand rests on the wall behind me. That little silver sword that he carries on a chain around his neck, suspended in the air by our breathing. His smile, a little crooked, a little sexy and a little cheeky. His enigmatic blue eyes that hide a world that no one can see, but one which I dream about; it’s a secret world, made of hope, desire and infinite security.
