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Authors: Jay Northcote

Cold Feet (12 page)

BOOK: Cold Feet
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Chapter Thirteen
 

Ryan stared at Sam’s door where it had slammed in his face, feeling stung by Sam’s unexpected anger. He had no clue what he’d done to upset him. He’d wanted to clear the air a little, to reestablish their friendship,
maybe
attempt to be honest about his desire for more. But he hadn’t managed to find the right words, and now he seemed to have inadvertently made things a whole lot worse.

Fuck it
.

They clearly weren’t going to be able to manage a rational conversation tonight. It would have to wait. He straightened his shoulders and headed downstairs in search of another beer.

 
 

The party was in full swing now.

Ryan stood, leaning against the wall in the packed living room. The music pulsed through him like an external heartbeat, the vibration deep in his bones. He looked at his watch. It was almost half-eleven. Just thirty minutes to go until midnight. The house was bursting at the seams with drunken students. People from their courses, mates from rugby, friends of friends of friends. He recognised maybe half the faces at the most.

Ryan had been watching out for Sam all night. He couldn’t help himself. They’d crossed paths a few times—in the brightly lit kitchen in search of beer, in the throng of dancing people, on the stairs as they’d brushed past each other. But they’d avoided each other’s gaze and hadn’t exchanged any words. Ryan was still smarting from Sam’s harsh words earlier, and he had no clue how to make it right.

“Hey, Ry.” A soft hand curled around his arm. Long, perfectly manicured fingernails bit into his bicep as a girl leaned close to speak into his ear over the music. “Long time no see. Did you have a good Christmas?”

Ryan turned to meet the hopeful eyes of Caroline, one of the many girls he’d shagged last year. One of the few he’d shagged more than once. She’d been persistent, not keen to take no for an answer when he’d made vague excuses about not being in a ‘relationship kind of place’. She was gorgeous to look at, but she knew it, and had taken his lack of interest as a challenge.

“Yeah, not bad, thanks. You?”

He breathed in the cloying, too sweet scent of her perfume and fought the urge to pull his arm away. She leaned closer, putting her other hand on his chest, running it down to his ribcage in a way that made him want to squirm away from the touch.

“The usual boring family shit. It’s good to be back at uni. So much more potential for fun.” Her words dripped with unsubtle suggestion.

Caroline moved to stand in front of him. Close, too close. She gripped his hips firmly and pushed her stomach aggressively against his completely uninterested cock.

“Who are you going to be kissing at midnight?” Caroline asked, tilting her face up invitingly.

Ryan didn’t want to be a dick. He’d already disappointed her once, so the least he could do now was be polite. But he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. He reached down, took her hands, and lifted them away, holding them—mainly to stop her grabbing him again.

“I’ve got no plans,” he said lightly, aiming to tease but not encourage.

He looked over her shoulder, trying to work out an escape route, and froze when he spotted Sam in the crowd. Sam was dancing, his slim hips swaying. Some guy, whom Ryan vaguely recognised but couldn’t place, had his hands around Sam’s waist and pressed up close behind him. An ugly shard of jealousy shot through Ryan, making him feel queasy.

Then, as though he could feel Ryan’s gaze on him, Sam raised his head and looked in Ryan’s direction. His gaze fell to where Ryan was still holding Caroline’s hands, and he stared for a moment, before turning in his partner’s arms and putting his hands up around his neck as they weaved in time to the music.

Ryan let Caroline’s hands drop and pushed his way out from where she had him trapped against the wall. He didn’t care about letting her down gently now. He just wanted to get away from the loud music and the suffocating heat of the bodies around him.

“I need a piss,” he lied.

“Make sure you find me again later.” She pouted, tucking a strand of perfectly highlighted hair behind her ear.

Ryan didn’t reply. He was already walking away.

His room was empty and comparatively quiet compared to the racket downstairs. He’d taken the precaution of locking it from the outside earlier, because the last time they’d had a house party, some idiot had spilled beer all over his laptop.

Ryan fell onto his bed facedown, his head aching with suppressed emotion more than from the few beers he’d drunk. He’d been taking it slow because he didn’t trust himself not to do something stupid if he got shit-faced.

He hugged his pillow and lay there for a while, feeling miserable as the deep bass vibrated through the floor from downstairs and the occasional raised voice or burst of laughter penetrated his bubble of solitude.

There was a knock on his door, but he ignored it. Whoever it was could fuck off. He’d locked himself in and had no intention of moving for the foreseeable future.

The knocking persisted, changing from the rap of knuckles to the thump of a fist.

“Ryan, let me in. I know you’re in there.”

Ryan’s heart flipped at the sound of Sam’s voice. “What do you want?”

“Just let me in!”

Ryan moved. He unlocked the door and opened it. Sam pushed his way in and closed it quickly, locking it again behind him. He pressed his back against it.

“Thank you.” He sighed in relief. “Can I hide in here till after midnight?”

Sam’s cheeks were flushed from dancing, his hair even more dishevelled than usual—it fell in a tangle over one eye. Ryan’s fingers itched to push it back and weave into the strands, tugging him closer. “Sure.”

“And I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Um… okay.” Ryan wasn’t sure what to say about the strange disagreement on the landing before. “
Who
are you hiding from?” he asked instead.

“That bloke downstairs. He’s pushy, and I’m not interested.”

A wave of relief rushed through Ryan. “Really? You looked pretty interested earlier.”

“I was only dancing. But he was too handsy, so I ditched him. I’m not looking to hook up tonight.” Sam’s
flush
deepened, and he dropped his gaze. “But why are you locked away up here? You were looking pretty cosy with Caroline earlier.”

“I’m gay, remember.”

Ryan couldn’t stop staring at Sam’s face. The bright overhead light in Ryan’s room made the scattering of cinnamon freckles on Sam’s nose stand out in sharp relief against his pale skin. His lips were deep pink, shiny as though he’d been kissing someone.

As Ryan watched, Sam licked them nervously, wetting them more, and his gaze flickered up to meet Ryan’s.

“Right. How could I forget?”

Ryan’s anger flared at the sarcastic edge in Sam’s voice.
Here we go again
. “What the fuck’s your problem?” he demanded. “You said we should just be friends, and I’m trying, okay. I’m trying. So why are you being such a dick? If you don’t want me, what would it matter if I got off with Caroline—not that I want to.
But seriously.
You said what happened between us was no big deal, so why do you
care
?”

“Wait… what?” A little furrow of confusion wrinkled Sam’s brow. “I thought that was what you wanted. I asked you if you wanted to carry on with this… with
us
”—he gestured between the two of them—“but you didn’t exactly jump at the chance.”

Ryan thought back to their stilted conversation in the car, trying to remember his exact words to Sam.

“I didn’t say no.” He was sure he hadn’t. Why would he?

“You didn’t say yes either.”

“I was confused.” Ryan defended himself. “We hadn’t had a chance to talk, and then it was all too rushed and I was trying to think about what I wanted because this is all new to me and I was afraid about what it would mean for me if we went from being friends to being…
more
than that. But fuck, Sam. I
really fucking
like you—and
not
just as a friend.”

Ryan paused for breath, his heart pounding as he tried to read Sam’s reaction.

Sam looked stunned, lips parted and eyes fixed on Ryan as though trying to make sense of the words Ryan had blurted out.

“I came out to my mum,” Ryan added. “Not my dad yet, but I will. Soon.
And my other mates.
Even if you don’t want to go out with me, I’m coming out anyway. I’m ready to be honest about who I am.”

Sam blinked. “Of course I want to go out with you, you twat. I’ve been in love with you for the past… I don’t know exactly. I need to work it out. But definitely for too fucking long.” His cheeks flushed red at his confession. “Oh God, sorry. That’s probably way too much pressure. Can you forget I said that, please?” He ducked his head and pushed his hair away from his forehead. But it fell straight back into his eyes again.

Ryan reached out and tucked it behind Sam’s ear. He let his hand linger against Sam’s cheek in a tender caress, Sam’s light stubble teasing the pad of his thumb.

“Fuck, Sam…. I—”

“You don’t have to say it back. Just because I can’t keep my stupid mouth shut.” Sam’s voice was fierce. His eyes flicked up to meet Ryan’s, his face still flushed and hot.

Ryan stared, but he had to speak. “I was going to say that I nearly drunk-texted you to tell you I was in love with you the other night.”

“You
were
in love with me?” Sam raised his eyebrows, but his lips curved in a slow, teasing smile. He put his hands on Ryan’s waist and let them rest there lightly with gentle pressure, not pulling him closer or pushing him away.

“I
am
.” Ryan’s hand was still on Sam’s face, cupping his cheek, his thumb resting close to the corner of Sam’s lips now.

Downstairs the music suddenly cut out, and they heard the sound of voices yelling the countdown to midnight. “
Ten, nine, eight
—”

“I want to kiss you at midnight,” Ryan said, suddenly sure of what he wanted. No more cold feet, no more uncertainty. His heart thumped hard.

“Go on, then.” Sam’s lips stretched into a smile that knocked the air out of Ryan’s lungs.

“But not here.”

Sam’s brow creased.


Six, five, four
—” came the voices from downstairs.

“Come on.” Ryan grabbed Sam’s wrist and tugged him away from the door, so he could open it and drag Sam after him, running along the landing and down the stairs to the packed living room.


Two, one
!”

The first chime of Big Ben sounded in the momentary silence before the party erupted into cheering.

The room was full of people, hugging, kissing,
yelling
New Year’s greetings to each other.

Ryan led Sam into the centre of the throng and turned to face him. He didn’t care who was watching—the more people who saw them the better. If he was going to come out, he was doing it in style. Give them something to gossip about tomorrow.

“Happy New Year,” he said, knowing that even though Sam couldn’t hear him over the racket, he could read his lips. He watched Sam’s mouth form the words back at him, and they grinned at each other like idiots. Fireworks went off in a garden somewhere nearby.

“Go on, then,” Sam said again. He put his hands on Ryan’s hips and tugged him closer.

Bubbles rose and fizzed over in Ryan’s chest, like shaken Champagne when a cork is popped, and he finally leaned in and pressed his lips to Sam’s. He felt the shape of Sam’s smile and matched it with his own, then traced the shape of it with his tongue. Sam opened his mouth, letting Ryan in to a deep, slow kiss that was tender and achingly sweet. Ryan cupped Sam’s cheeks, angling his mouth just right, and Sam wrapped his arms around Ryan’s waist, pressing closer until their hips aligned perfectly. Heat built between them, slow and lazy but going nowhere fast.

There was no hurry.

They had all the time in the world, Ryan realised. They were no longer living on borrowed time, snowed in somewhere outside their normal lives. This was their new reality. Living together, loving each other, best friends and—Ryan assumed—boyfriends.

2015 was going to be the best year ever.

 
 
 
 
 
Chapter Fourteen
 

When Ryan woke the next morning, for a moment he didn’t know where he was. The posters on the walls weren’t his, and the window was in the wrong place. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling in the dim light, frowning as his brain creaked slowly into gear. But then a warm body shifted behind him, and he felt bare skin against his own. An arm curled more tightly around his belly, and he remembered.

Sam.

New Year’s Eve.

Kissing at midnight.

Happiness rose like a hot-air balloon, and a smile spread over his face.

Ryan stifled a chuckle as he remembered their friends’ reactions—amusement, surprise,
excitement
. Caroline had looked pretty pissed off, but everyone else had been cool, although Anthony had been a bit miffed that Ryan had “hogged all that pussy” when he wasn’t even into girls. But Trina had smacked Anthony upside the head for referring to women as pussy, and they’d ended up arguing about that instead and people had lost interest in gossiping about Ryan and Sam.

After that the party had gradually broken up and Sam and Ryan had escaped to bed.
Tired and a little drunk, they’d stripped down to their boxers and rolled into bed, then kissed for what felt like hours until they’d eventually fallen asleep.

Sam moved again, pressing closer, and Ryan felt Sam’s hardness against his hip. Ryan’s cock responded, thickening and tenting his boxers. He turned, gently pushed Sam onto his back, and then pressed a line of slow, lazy kisses down Sam’s torso. Sam’s nipples tightened as the duvet slipped lower.

“Good morning.” Sam’s voice was scratchy with sleep.

“Morning.” Ryan tilted his head up, resting his chin on Sam’s flat belly.

Sam lifted his head, tucking his arms behind it for support. “What are you doing down there?”
His lips quirked, amused and teasing.

“Thinking about starting the year as I mean to go on.” Ryan grinned. “If that’s okay with you?” He moved a little lower and pressed a kiss against Sam’s hard cock through his snug boxer briefs.

“Knock yourself out.” Sam spread his legs to make room for Ryan between them.

“These are in the way.” Ryan pulled Sam’s underwear down, moving to help Sam slide them off. Then he settled back between Sam’s lean, pale thighs, with the duvet around his shoulders. It was cold this morning, and his feet were freezing where they were sticking out of the bottom of the bed, but Ryan ignored them. He stared at Sam for a moment. It was so weird, yet so arousing, to be looking at a cock and balls from this angle.

Sam reached down and stroked himself lazily. Ryan’s arousal spiked at the sight. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“You having second thoughts? You don’t have to, you know, if you’re not ready to try giving head. I was dead nervous the first time I sucked someone off, so I get it. There’s no—”

Ryan knocked Sam’s hand away and replaced it with his own hand and his mouth.

“Well, okay, then,” Sam half laughed, half gasped. “Go for it.”

Ryan went for it. Tentative at first, he explored the taste and textures with his lips and tongue. He wasn’t sure if he was doing it well, but he reckoned that short of accidents with teeth or gagging to the point of actually vomiting, he couldn’t go too far wrong. Sam seemed to be enjoying anyway, if the stifled whimpers and murmurs of encouragement were any indication. He’d propped himself up on his elbows, watching, and Ryan looked up because he wanted to see his face. Sam’s cheeks were flushed and his gaze was fixed on Ryan’s mouth.

Fuck
. Being watched like that was hot. Ryan pressed his aching erection into the mattress, half-wishing he could get a hand to it, but his hands were busy. One stroking the part of Sam’s cock that he didn’t dare try and fit into his mouth, and the other gripping Sam’s thigh, feeling the movement in the lean muscle as Sam tensed, muscles clenching.

Sam muttered a hoarse warning. “I’m gonna come soon. If you don’t want a mouthful, you’d better pull off.”

Ryan didn’t pull off. He could always spit if he couldn’t handle it.

Sam groaned. “
Oh yeah
.” His cock swelled and pulsed against Ryan’s tongue, and Ryan kept sucking even as he felt his mouth filling with warm, salty come. It wasn’t too bad, he decided, and the sight of Sam’s O-face more than made up for the slightly bitter aftertaste. He tried to swallow but couldn’t coordinate the movement around a mouthful of dick, so he pulled off and tried again. He wrinkled his nose, and Sam laughed.

“Not a fan?”

“It’s not that bad. Just weird.”

“You get used to it.”

“I’d better keep practising, then.”

“Feel free.” Sam grinned. “You’re my boyfriend now—aren’t you?” A flash of uncertainty crossed his face. “So you can practise anytime you like.”

Ryan crawled back up Sam’s lean body, bringing the duvet with him.

“Course I’m your boyfriend. What with us being in love with each other and everything, it would be a bit stupid if we weren’t.”

“Yeah.” Sam snuggled in close, reaching down into Ryan’s underwear to grab his cock and stroke him slowly. Ryan wrapped a leg over Sam’s thigh, and his foot—icy from where it had been sticking out of the bottom of the duvet—pressed against Sam’s calf.

Sam yelped. “Shit! You’ve got cold feet.”

Not any more
, Ryan thought.

He kissed Sam, holding him tight in his arms, all warm and pliant and
his
, and he’d never been
more sure
of anything in his life.

BOOK: Cold Feet
13.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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