by Kelly, A. S.
What the fuck did she mean, ‘I wasn’t here’? I was holding her. I thought my intentions were clear to the whole room. What else did she expect?
She’s impossible, bad-tempered, out of her mind. She thinks she knows everything about everyone.
Fuck her.
She can’t just turn her back and leave me on the dancefloor looking like a dick without accepting the consequences.
I follow behind her, shoving through crowds of people. I get to the toilet door and lean my back against the wall next to it, waiting for her to come out. But patience isn’t my strong point, and neither are good manners, so I open the door and stride into the women’s toilets.
Two girls touching up their makeup in the mirror look at me in surprise, as I ask them not very nicely to kindly piss off.
I glance under the cubicle doors and, when I find her feet, I knock loudly.
“Occupied!” she shouts from the other side.
“It’s me.”
“What the hell…?”
“Come out.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Come out or I’m coming in.”
She opens the door, furious.
“What do you think you’re doing? This is the women’s toilet!”
“You’re the one who shouldn’t have even fucking thought about walking away from me like that.”
“Oh my God! Are you insane?”
“I’m not someone who likes to be messed around.”
“Are you serious, Ryan?”
“Never been more serious in my life.” I step closer to her, threateningly, as she backs against the door. It’s only once I feel her sigh onto my face that I realise her eyes are red and her makeup is smudged.
I take a few steps back, letting her take the breath she was holding in. I know, because I was holding mine too.
She heads towards the sink and leans her hands against the counter. I go over to her and stop behind her – and when she lifts her gaze, what I see in the mirror kicks my pride.
“I went too far,” I say.
“No, you think?” she says, her voice dripping in sarcasm.
“I lost control,” I say, coming closer to her and placing my hands on the counter next to hers. The electricity when our fingers touch clouds my senses in an instant.
“You make me lose control,” I whisper into her ear, watching her skin shiver.
I look at her shoulders, her arms, her hands. I watch her breathing, her anxiety. I feel it wrapping around me, because it’s the same anxiety that weighs down on me. When I look back up to catch her eye with mine, she shakes her head and breaks contact. It feels like she’s broken my spine, cutting off my airways.
I feel empty, a shell. As if I could be trampled by one clumsy step.
“I haven’t done anything, Ryan,” she says calmly, but her voice betrays her.
“You do, Christine. You…” I say, drunk from her scent, manipulating my thoughts just like last night.
I brush against her ear with my lips, closing my eyes to feel the trembling in my bones.
I push against her, pinning her underneath my body. The longing to slip my hands under her dress devours me, the desire to feel her all-consuming. The desperate need to touch her makes me slowly glide my hands up and down her sides; they’re moving of their own accord, as if someone else were controlling them. I reach her waist and increase the pressure of my touch. I need to feel everything, just once – the longing bursts through my fingers, controlling my actions.
I can’t avoid it.
I don’t want to.
“Ryan…” she wriggles away and turns. “What are you doing?”
“I’m doing what I want.”
My longing starts to possess my tongue, too.
“And what do you want?”
“You.”
She narrows her eyes, and the light in them vanishes, just like this moment of madness.
“Are you crazy? Do you really think I’d just fuck you in the toilet of a bar, like any old slut?”
She gets angry, her face flaming up, her voice rising. Rejection plasters across her face, her body.
“Is that not what you are?” I raise my voice too, overcome by anger.
And it happens again.
The second time she’s slapped me. This time it’s harder.
And I deserve it even more than last time.
“Don’t you dare lay your hands on me,” I say, intimidating, even though she had every right.
She drops her hands to her sides and looks at me, furiously.
“It’s actually you who put your hands on me. And if you don’t let me leave right now, I’m going to scream. I’m not desperate enough to fall to your feet, Ryan O’Connor – not here, or anywhere else. You’re not attractive enough to get away with playing the Alpha male, who takes without asking. You might think you’re a good guy deep down, but there’s nothing good in you. Being a sex God doesn’t give you the right to treat people like shit. I won’t let you treat me like shit.”
She turns on her heels and goes to open the door.
“You shouldn’t pretend to be a tough guy, Ryan O’Connor, when you’re not even a man. You’re nothing.”
30
Chris
“Good morning, Chris!”
I lift my gaze from the table I’m clearing to see Riley’s beaming face in front of me.
“I’ve come for breakfast,” she says, explaining her presence. “I have a day off, after the party yesterday.”
“Of course! Sit down – can I get you anything to drink?”
“A cappuccino would be fantastic.”
“I’ll be right back.”
While Riley sits down at one of the free tables, I go to the coffee machine to make her cappuccino. Her being here is making me uncomfortable, even though it shouldn’t – she has nothing to do with what happened yesterday, nothing to do with him. But I still feel embarrassed with her here, nervous.
I take her coffee over, along with my own which I’d left behind the counter, and I sit down with her for a break – just as I always do when she comes in on her own. I can’t let Ryan O’Connor interfere with my everyday life.
“You left early last night,” she says right away, chewing her lip. “Were you not having fun? Did someone make you uncomfortable…?”
“No, no,” I say, reassuring her. “I just…look, I’m always here. Work sucks all the life out of me, so I never have enough energy to stay out late – otherwise I wouldn’t be able to hold up fort here the next day.”
She stirs her coffee slowly, then places the spoon onto the saucer, takes a deep breath, and looks at me in her sweet, sincere way.
“It’s just that I saw you dancing with Ryan…”
There we go. Straight to the point. She isn’t as naïve as she looks.
“I know that he can sometimes be a bit…”
“Irritating? Arrogant? Rude?”
“Okay, so you know him pretty well,” she smiles.
“It’s impossible not to. Every time we meet, it ends in an argument.”
“Does that mean you two have met up often?”
“Oh, no,” I immediately hold up my hands. “Absolutely never.”
“Mmm.”
“A few times, by accident.”
“He’s not as bad as he seems.”
“I can imagine,” I say, sarcastically.
“Really,” she insists, her face suddenly serious. “I’m not trying to excuse him for how he acts – it irritates me, too, sometimes, being around him – but I’ve got to know him, and I’ve learnt to love him.”
“That’s normal, Riley, he’s part of your family.”
“Ian’s brothers all have the same problem, you know. They all seem obnoxious, impossibly irritating, but there’s a lot hiding underneath it all.”
I guess she’s talking about Ian. Well, it isn’t like Ian’s hiding much. As for Nick, I’ve never had the chance to speak to him properly, but he’s surely nothing on Rya
n. He’s the worst of the worst. A disaster. An apocalypse. It’s useless for him to hide behind that angelic face, because there’s nothing angelic about him. He’s the devil. That’s what he is.
“I don’t get why you’re telling me this…” I ramble, trying to show her just how little I care about Ryan O’Connor. To show her that I don’t want to hear anything about him and what he might be hiding – apart from maybe what’s under his jeans…
Oh my God. I’m doing it again.
I really need a boyfriend.
“I’m just making conversation,” she says, hiding innocently behind her coffee.
I’m starting to think that Riley might be influenced a bit too much by those O’Connors.
“Ryan’s just an insecure man, trying to find his path.”
“Ryan’s not even a man, Riley. He’s a condescending, spoilt little boy…”
“See, you do know him,” she comments, smugly. “But you’re talking about what you see on the surface. Behind his walls, there’s more to him – trust me.”
“Well, it’s not up to me to find that out. I have no interest in doing so. I’m thirty-two, Riley. I have a sixteen-year-old son, a job that takes up all my free time, a horrendous dating history with guys just like Ryan, and I don’t have time to play silly games. And he’s the worst kind of player.”
“I get it.”
“I’m not looking for anything, I’m not desperate for a man. And if I did want one, I’m certain it wouldn’t be one like Ryan O’Connor. No offence.”
“None taken. I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
I sigh and lean back against my chair.
“I’m tired of playing around, Riley. I just want to be with someone who really sees me, someone who wants me – warts and all. I don’t know if you know what I mean.”
She reaches her hand towards mine across the table.
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m not going to go chasing him down,” I tell her, determined. “He isn’t for me.”
“Okay, then I’m sorry. I just thought that…oh, forget it.”
“Mmm?”
“I’ve known Ryan for a while now and I thought I saw something – but I probably just got the wrong idea.”
I smile at her, before standing up.
“I have to get back to work now – sorry.”
“Of course. Thanks for the chat.”
“No problem, you know I enjoy it. You’re part of the furniture here now!”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll see you later,” I say, waving before heading back behind the counter, with her words pulsing through my mind and the heaviest weight in my stomach.
31
Ryan
Going back home for dinner tonight was really the last thing I wanted to do, but Mum made a huge fuss, as usual, about family unity, and how important it is that we’re all together at least once a week. I can never say no – especially not when the others do it so often.
I step inside and head straight to the kitchen in search of something to drink.
“Ryan!” Mum greets me. “We were just sitting at the table.”
“Sorry, I’m a bit late. I popped home first then lost track of time.”
“It’s okay, your brothers are through in the living room with Dad.”
I grab a beer from the fridge and open it, before giving Mum a kiss on the cheek and going off in search of the others.
“Hey, family,” I say, greeting everyone without actually looking at any of them.
“About time, I’m starving,” Ian whines at me.
“You could’ve started without me,” I snap back.
“You know that Mum always waits until we’re all here.”
Of course. It’s good manners.
Nick gets up from the sofa and comes over to us.
“Little Ryan,” he says, immediately making my blood boil.
“Dickhead,” I retort.
“It’s so nice to have the family all together,” Ian comments sarcastically, shaking his head, before heading off into the kitchen.
“Hey, Ryan.” Riley appears from upstairs.
“Riley,” I say, nodding.
“Everything…okay?” she asks, cautiously.
“Sure. Why?”
“Oh…you know,” she shrugs, going over to join Ian and Mum.
I start to feel a strange atmosphere settling around us. I have the feeling I’m about to be interrogated, then torn apart, right here in front of everyone.
“Come on, food’s ready!” Ian calls from the kitchen, as I head for the dining room.
I sit down next to my father. Nick sits opposite me, Ian on the other side of me, and Riley between Nick and my mother.
“So, guys…any news?” Mum asks.
“The usual,” Nick jumps in.
“Any new projects coming up?” Riley says, weaving her way into the conversation.
“They’ve asked me to do a photo shoot in Los Angeles – important stuff.”
“Wow, Nick, that’s amazing!” Riley comments, as I start to cough.
Ian immediately rolls his eyes, as Mum watches me, concern etched across her face. Nick’s glare pierces through me. Dad keeps eating, as if nothing’s going on.
“What’s wrong with you, Ryan?”
At least this time it took five minutes before one of our pleasant discussions. We’re making progress.
“Nothing,” I say flatly. “I’ve just got a bit of a cough.”
“Maybe you’re getting a cold,” Mum says, trying to ease the tension.
“Maybe you caught it last night, outside,” Nick adds.
He’s shooting. But he’s not going to fucking score.
“I don’t think so.”
“But you were outside, all alone, in the cold.”
“Why? Didn’t you want to join in with the party?” Mum asks.
“Sure,” I say, defensively.
“He even danced with a woman,” Nick continues.
“Really?” Mum’s face lights up. “Who was she? Do we know her?”
“It was Chris, from the Red Cherry.”
I swear I’ll jump across the table and stuff a napkin right down his fucking throat.
“Oh, that’s wonderful! She’s such a sweet girl, and so pretty.”
“You danced with her, too,” I shoot back, glaring at him.
My mother turns suddenly towards him.
“Nick O’Connor!”
“At least I didn’t follow her into the women’s toilets.”
Shit.
“You did what?” Mum asks, horrified.
“It wasn’t what it looked like…”
“Oh, I’m sure it was.”
“Mind your own fucking business.”
“Why should I? Your business is definitely more interesting than my own.”
“Guys…” Ian tries to intervene.
“Did you really follow Chris into the toilets, Ryan?” Riley asks, as discreetly as she can.
“We had a bit of a…disagreement,” I hiss through my teeth.
I don’t owe anyone an explanation.
“How come?” she presses.
“Does it matter? Can we just eat now, please?”
“You’re the one giving us so much interesting stuff to talk about,” Nick says, trying to take me down; but I’m going to take him down with my bare hands, with his head in the upstairs toilet.
“What happened?” Mum won’t let it go.
Jesus, Nick. I’ll kill you one day.
“Nothing happened, okay?”
“That must be why she seemed so off with me this morning.”
I snap my head towards Riley.
“She wasn’t as chatty or cheerful as usual. She seemed really down, thoughtful.”
“Maybe she has other problems,” Ian comments, trying to calm everyone down, but his other half is already too invested.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, feeling the need to clear it up. “We had
an argument, end of story.”
“I can imagine,” Nick comments, his eyebrow raised.
“She got pissed off at me for nothing, okay? So she ran off to the toilets, and I followed her to clear things up. But it’s impossible to talk to that woman!” I say, laying my life out on the table for everyone to see.
“Well,” my father suddenly speaks up. “That just means you’ll have to go and apologise to her tomorrow.”
“What?” I look at him through narrowed eyes.
He turns to face me and speaks calmly. “I don’t know what you did, but, knowing you, I’m sure it wasn’t nice.”
“Wow, thanks,” I say, throwing my hands up.
“Don’t test us, Ryan. We all know you too well.”
I have a family full of traitors.
“Tomorrow you’ll go over to her, apologise, take her some flowers and ask her out.”
I spray my mouthful of beer right into Nick’s face.
“Hey, what the fuck?!”
Serves him right.
“That’s not going to happen,” I tell my dad, falling back against my chair.
“You’ll damn well do it.”
“I’m not thirteen, you can’t tell me what to do. I’m a grown man, for fuck’s sake!”
“I’ll stop telling you what to do when you start acting like a man. I just hope that happens before I’m six feet under.”
“Did you hear that, little Ryan?” Nick challenges me, raising his wine glass.
“Nick,” Dad turns to him. “You’re grounded.”
Silence falls over the table.
“Wh-what?” he stammers.
“Did you really dance with her? After what you did?”
“I didn’t…”
“You’re grounded all weekend.”
“So what, should I stay locked in my room with no PlayStation?”
“The gutters need cleaning. And the upstairs windows.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I’ll expect you here on Friday, no later than two p.m.”
I struggle to keep a laugh stifled, one hand over my mouth.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing, mister. You’ll be helping out too.”
“Me?”
