Page 44 of One Night Only
Spectacular.
I shift in my chair, feeling a different sort of uncomfortable as the word echoes through my mind.
“Are you cold now?” Declan asks.
“No.”
“You look cold.”
“Are you trying to get me to go inside with you?”
“Maybe.”
I breathe deeply, trying to regain control of whatever this is. “I think you’re lying to me.”
“About what this time?”
“About you.”
“Moi?”
“You are an attractive man, Declan Murphy.”
“Keep talking.”
“And I find it very hard to believe that not once have you slept with a stranger purely to feel something.”
“Is that why you do it?”
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Sometimes you just want to fool around and feel good. Have an orgasm if you’re lucky.”
“You must have been very lucky with me.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I lie. “I don’t remember.”
“Do you want me to remind you?”
I don’t answer him. It’s so quiet in the darkness I swear he’s able to hear my heartbeat. I know I can hear it; the rapid double-time thumping in my ears.
“Sorry,” Declan says after a while. The word is so soft I almost don’t hear it. I swallow, closing my eyes. Why does this keep happening? What is it about him that makes my emotions swing so wildly? One minute we’re joking like old friends and the next I want him so bad you’d swear this was all just foreplay.
“Where is everyone anyway?” I ask, even as the tension between us doesn’t fade.
“They’ll be back in a while. But they won’t bother us.”
And I know he doesn’t mean what I want him to mean. I know he means that we can stay out here for as long as we want, drink to our heart’s content and not get caught. But that’s not what I want.
It’s not what I want at all.
And I try to communicate this to him. Telepathically pleading with him to make a move but all he does is continue to drink. Drink and ignore me. As if he doesn’t feel the energy between us. The heat in my body.
It’s not like I have to see him again after this week.
Mutual friend group. Unlikely. Annie and Paul will be here and New York is big enough that we can avoid each other if we wanted. But I don’t want to avoid him now. That’s the last thing I want to do. Because I’m sad and horny and I can’t stop thinking about him. I haven’t stopped thinking about him for days. And as far as I can see, there’s only one solution for that. An itch that I can finally scratch. It doesn’t have to mean anything more.
I take a final gulp of beer and swing my legs to the ground. Screw it.
Declan watches me moodily, probably expecting me to say good night. Instead, I step toward him, until my bare legs brush the metal bars of his chair.
