Bloody hell… I hated those words. Nothing good ever became of those words. You’d think at some point I’d learn.
Somehow, we had gotten off on the subject of flashing her knockers at the crowd. Quite honestly, I couldn’t even tell you how it began, but I was sure she wouldn’t actually do it. So sure that, as much as I knew with every fiber of my being that it was a bad idea, I replied by setting the stakes.
I was right stocious, after all, having consumed enough whisky to fell an ox. Apparently my WANKER tattoo had taught me nothing, either.
“You’re on. If you lose your nerve and don’t do it, you have to go stand on the street like a busker and sing Whisky in the Jar the old folk song way.”
“Are you even speaking English? Like a what?” she giggled, shaking her head at both the term and the thick Dub accent I’d taken on as I had slowly gotten more and more fluthered through the evening.
“A busker… one of those lads ya see out on the street playing their guitars and singing for barney dillions.”
“Oh my God,” she howled, holding her stomach as she practically convulsed in amusement, “what the fuck are barney dillions?”
It was infectious. Seeing the light in her eyes and hearing the hilarity in her voice had me laughing me cacks off.
“Money,” I snorted back.
“Okay… it’s a bet. You lose and you have to sing… um…” she trailed off as she thought for a minute. “Oh,” she suddenly exclaimed, “I know! You have to sing Top of the World,” she giggled.
“Jaysus,” I chuckled, “how’s that even fair?”
She lightly punched me in the arm. “I love that song, you dick,” she scolded with mock irritation that was clearly belied by the wide-open smile and tears of amusement in her eyes.
“Right,” I grinned back. “Well, I’m waiting.”
And right there in the middle of Temple Bar Square, Fliss climbed the few steps up, shot me the ultimate sassy ‘feck off’ look, and whipped her shirt up. A shirt that had no bra on under it, as I quickly discovered when her beautiful tits were revealed.
And, holy feckin’ bloody Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, I was entranced.
They were only visible for a split second, heralded by whistles and cat calls from those around us, but I was like a deer in the headlights. Completely gobsmacked as I tried to burn that image into my brain. My blood pulsed through my veins and straight to my dick, and I wanted her to grab me and squeeze me and lick me until I blew my load all over those gorgeous breasts.
After, as she stood on the steps watching my reaction, her smile faded for a moment. Her eyes grew dark, and she slowly moved closer to me. Coming down the steps, one at a time, until she stood on the one right before me, almost at my level.
“You do kind of like me,” she whispered, “don’t you, Denny?”
Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph, I did. More than kinda.
Her voice, soft and sultry, hypnotized me. Paralyzed me more than the shots I’d been throwing back. “All this time, I’ve wondered. I’ve wished.”
Warily, I eyed her, knowing I should step back. Knowing she was too close, that the temptation was too strong. But I couldn’t even speak.
Fliss could, though, and her breathy whispers were like the lightest strokes down my cock. Like feathery touches that only increased the aching in my balls.
“I’ve imagined…”
Every cell in my brain was screaming at me. Go. Get the feck out of there. Nothing good could come of this.
But her sweet little body moved so close that I could feel the warmth of her skin through my t-shirt. I felt her breath teasing my lips as her own moved just a little closer. My mouth watered with the increasing hunger for one little taste of her kiss.
“There’s always been something about you…” she breathed, and then just barely touched her lips to mine. Barely moving back a hair, she continued to seduce me with her words. “From the first time I saw you.”
Another faint kiss, a breathless exploration that seemed to barely hold back something more. The tiniest sweep of her tongue curling along my upper lip. She barely touched me, but had me swaying with the force of that feathery touch.
“You really do want me,” she asked, her voice barely audible over the crowd, “don’t you, Denny?”
I found myself beginning to nod.
“I want to tell you a little secret.” Her voice had a seductive rasp to it that seemed to vibrate along my skin right to my dick. “I always kind of wanted you, even when I was with Trent.”
Trent… damn.
Her words shook me from the spell I was under, and I jerked back. Her eyes shot wide open, first anxious and then dismayed, as I closed down.
“It’s not going to happen, Fliss,” I swore solemnly. “Not ever.”
Her body barely moved, but I could almost see physical signs of my words hitting home. The initial biting pain of rejection turned her eyes hard. Her chin lifted ever so slightly. Her chest rose as she fortified herself with a long, deep breath. Her long scarlet hair trailed in the light breeze, framing her in color.
She was so incredibly beautiful. I wanted more than anything to just grab her and kiss her so very hard. To have her gasping my name and wrap her in my arms, to feel her warm body pressed up against my own.
I just couldn’t have that.
“No bother,” she eventually shrugged, firmly plastering on her mask of indifference. “Half of what I always liked about you was your accent. Lucky for me, I’m in Ireland. There’s a whole country of guys who will fit that bill for me.”
“Are there now?” I asked, instantly furious at the thought of her in another man’s arms. Instantly cheesed at myself for wanting her so desperately, and my drunken anger caused me to lash out. “So, you’re gonna go off hooring are ya?”
“It shouldn’t matter to you what I do. It never has before,” she said as she turned back towards the Quays Bar across the narrow brick street. Away from me. For a second, I watched the sway of her hips before I followed.
“Fliss, it’s not really safe—”
“I’ll be fine, Denny. You don’t have to babysit me anymore or pretend that you have any desire to be around me.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at me. “You did good these past couple days. I almost forgot that you can’t stand me.”
“It’s not that,” I argued.
“Then what is it?” she demanded angrily, taking a few steps back over to me.
My lips pressed into a firm line, and I turned away, trying to figure out something to say.
“Was it something I did?” she asked. “Are you still pissed at me about Trent?”
“Pissed at you?” I gaped. “I never was pissed at you.”
“Right,” she scoffed, and turned again, jerking away when I reached for her arm to stop her.
I hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about. She certainly had something all arseways in her head, to be sure. I’d never been angry at her. I’d been a dick, but I didn’t think I’d come off as angry. Not once.
“Fliss,” I began to follow, then stopped cold as she stepped through the door and right up to the bar, placing her hand on the broad shoulder of a bloke who stood there.
He turned his head down to look at her, and she flashed a sultry smile at him and pressed her svelte little body against him. His gaze warmed instantly, growing hungry as her hand slowly moved from his shoulder down his muscled arm. He was a mighty big fella, likely to take me out in one swing if it came to blows.
But that wasn’t what stopped me.
I halted because I knew she was doing the best thing. She was pushing me away, allowing me to push her away. The turmoil inside me was because of Trent, but it wasn’t her I was mad at. I’d never forgive myself for letting him fall apart like he did. For not being there and doing something to stop him.
So I stood back, fuming and aching, while she flirted. The tosser bought her a pint and pushed his buddy off the next stool to make room for her. He leaned down towards
her while she spoke, resting his hand on her hip, so her lips were a bare breath from his ear.
It was when he placed a kiss on her neck that I couldn’t take it anymore. As he lowered his lips, she turned her face towards me, looking directly at me. Defying me, yet begging me to act. She tilted her chin up to allow him more access, slowly closing her eyes. Her lips fell open with his touch as his hand slid down to cup her perfectly round ass. Resentment burned through me. Lust and malevolence boiled in my gut.
Her eyes opened again to see me practically shaking with grudging envy before I turned away.
Before I left her there.
I had to.
May, four years ago
Right before Trent had overdosed, he had been on a tear like no other, like nothing I’d ever seen. He was being quite the fuckhead to everyone around him, then complained that he felt victimized when people called him on his shite.
I’d been standing near the front window of the Mofos house as a party raged on around me. School had gotten out a few days before, and Justin was celebrating his newly earned degree. I was far from sober, yet remained alert enough to know the second Fliss’ car pulled up in the driveway.
“We should head to the Copperline, see what’s up,” I said, nudging Brannon with my elbow and trying my damnedest to come off nonchalant.
I felt anything but, though. It was getting harder and harder to be around her. I felt like I was in hell, seeing the pain in her eyes with every biting comment I made, wishing the situation was different. I couldn’t be around her and not be a dick, but I hated being a dick to her. I just couldn’t let on how I really felt. Trent would go ballistic.
Brannon grabbed his jacket, and we started heading towards the door.
“Where the fuck are you going?” Trent asked us.
“Copperline,” Brannon replied.
“Hold up,” Trent said, “I’ll come along.”
I stopped and eyed him, motioning out the open front door to where Fliss was walking up the footpath from the road. “What about your girl?”
Trent gave me a cryptic look, narrowing his eyes and wryly twisting his lips. “Do you really think she’s ever been mine, Denny?” he asked.
I cocked my head at his bizarre question, trying to read through his glassy eyes to figure out exactly what he was trying to say. Quite frankly, though, I was right bolloxed already. So, when Trent just laughed and clapped me on the arm, I shook it off. I focused on ignoring Fliss as I walked by her.
Instead of coming with us, Trent waited in the doorway for her, wrapping an arm around her slender shoulders as she stepped through the entryway.
Present day
I woke up in a cold sweat feeling like I was going to vomit. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and now I was even dreaming about her. I had been for the past couple weeks. Every night. Every morning, I woke up with a putrid sensation in my chest.
The last dream I had finally did my nut in. It was more or less a play-by-play of my last conversation with Trent. I’d never really even thought about those words since it happened, but now, for some reason, they seemed to burrow into my conscience.
Feeling off-kilter, I sent Fliss a short text, an apology for being a fuckhead that night at Temple Bar.
It went unanswered.
My family tiptoed around me and my foul mood at first, then they started slagging me for moping around the house. My ma asked about my plans, and I shrugged. My da told me to quit being a dosser, to get off my lazy arse and get a job or go visit my old mates. Ciara teased me about Fliss a few times before I damn near came unglued on her, at which point my nanny ushered her away from me, eyeing me with a knowing look.
Sometimes it was like the old woman could read my mind and see into my soul. It freaked me the feck out.
I finally broke down and agreed to meet a few fellas for drinks, knowing I’d be looking for her everywhere I went, even though I didn’t really want to see her. Fliss was a beautiful woman, and, especially after witnessing her play that last night, she likely wouldn’t be alone.
I didn’t see her, but I also wasn’t relieved by that. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
I began to worry when I sent her a second text asking how things were going and it went unanswered as well. So I sent another asking if she was okay.
Still no reply.
After that, I started becoming really concerned. Maybe that bruiser she’d been hooking up with at Temple Bar had done something to her. My mind began to play out all the morbid possibilities. He could have beaten her up. Raped her. Christ, he could have killed her for all I knew.
I found myself winding through the streets towards her building. When I buzzed up to their flat, I was met at the main door by one of her roommates, Brigit, who was clearly a culchie. Bookish and quiet from growing up out in the sticks, my guess was she had rarely been to the big city, and living here seemed to be a bit of culture shock. She warily peered up at me, tightly gripping her suitcase, as she told me Fliss wasn’t around. She and Maeve, their other roommate, had gone down to Temple Bar to blow off some steam after the long week of studies. Brigit, herself, was just heading home to Rathmullan for the weekend.
I left and roamed the Temple Bar area in the twilight, watching for Fliss’ crimson hair. The streets were packed with the Friday night crowd as a light misty rain fell off and on, and I pulled the collar of my jacket up a little to ward off the chill.
Then, like a beacon drawing me in, I heard a woman’s voice above the crowd through an open pub doorway.
“Felicity, are ya good here? I’m heading over to the Dakota to find Jimmy,” the girl said.
“Wait,” I heard Fliss call back, “I’ll come with you.” I caught a glimpse of her as she twirled around to the lads standing by her. “Nice to meet you. I’ll maybe see you around.”
“Ahh, you’re not leaving already are you?” one of them asked.
“Don’t go. I had no idea Americans were so beautiful,” the other manky sod grinned, and Fliss actually simpered back.
“Aren’t you just adorable,” she giggled as she patted him on the cheek before turning to follow her brunette friend through the crowd. Right to the doorway I stood in.
My mind was still weighing the pros and cons of stepping back into the crowd as she approached. I hadn’t really come to talk to her. I had only come to make sure she was okay. I still felt kind of shitty about how things had gone down last time, kinda the same way they’d always gone down between us. My walls would come up, and I’d spout out some gobshite remark that would push her away.
I’d gone to her flat to make sure she was okay. Brigit had seemed like there was nothing amiss, so I apparently had come here out of some masochistic streak that made me wonder about my own sanity. Fliss would not be happy to see me, I was fairly certain of it, and we’d just end up fighting again. While I stood there undecided on what to do, though, she saw me.
The smile on her face instantly fell as she froze like a statue for a moment. Her lips then pursed together, and she narrowed her eyes at me.
“Felicity,” her friend said, “are ya coming or not?” She turned to follow Fliss’ gaze to me, then glanced back at Fliss. “So who’s this fella?”
Fliss took a couple steps closer to where her friend had stopped near me. She eyed me warily and spoke.
“Maeve, this is Denny,” she said in a solemn voice. “I knew him in Montana.”
“Oh, you’re an American, too, then?” Maeve asked me.
“Of late,” I replied. “Fliss and I were on the same flight over, but I’m a Dub.”
“Fliss, huh?” Maeve murmured. “That’s kinda…” and she trailed off at the scowl on Fliss’ face. A few more thoughtful glances back and forth between the two of us, and Maeve nudged Fliss with her shoulder. “Well, I’ll just give ya a few minutes. I’ll be at the Dakota if ya want to join me.”
“No,” Fliss shook her head, “I’ll come with you—”
“Fliss, wait,” I interrupted.
“I sort of feel like I owe ya an apology.”
“It’s fine, Denny,” she said. “Don’t worry. You shouldn’t have to apologize for me throwing myself at you. You don’t like me. I think I finally get that.”
“I do like ya, Fliss.”
“Denny—”
“Felicity,” Maeve quietly piped in, “do you mind if I go on ahead? I have to find a loo pretty badly.”
Fliss looked over at her roommate, back to me, and then again at Maeve. “Go ahead, Maeve,” she said. “I’ll be along shortly.”
“Slán,” Maeve quipped an Irish goodbye as she scurried off into the crowd, leaving the two of us alone in the sea of people milling around us. Now that I had her undivided attention, though, I wasn’t sure what to say. She was still glaring at me, silently telling me that, regardless of what I said, I’d dug a pretty deep hole for myself and I wasn’t likely to find my way out anytime soon.
“So what do you want, Denny?” Fliss pointedly asked as I struggled to find the right thing to say.
“I told you,” I said, “I feel as though I should apologize.”
“And I told you there’s no need. I should know by now that you want nothing to do with me,” she spat. “You never did. I thought something had changed when we got here, but I guess I was wrong.”
“Nothing had to change,” I began, wanting and not wanting to tell her how I’d felt about her all these years.
“Well, I’m not sure what the friendly Denny act was all about when we got here, then. Maybe you just felt bad for me, but I don’t need your pity playing games with my head anymore.”
“I’m not playing games,” I growled.
“Then what are you doing?” she asked, stepping closer. Looking me right in the eye.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Why? You don’t care, so why does it matter if I’m okay?”
“I don’t know that either. And it isn’t that I don’t care.”
“Well, I’m fine,” she said quickly. “All healthy again. Plenty of company. I’m studying my ass off during the week and fucking it off on the weekends.”
Wild Irish Envy (Copperline #2) Page 9