Ryan: O’Connor Brothers #2

by Kelly, A. S.

  I suddenly pull away, as if she’d hit me, staggering, disorientated. And I know the alcohol has nothing to do with it.

  She looks at me, her brow furrowed, confused and offended by my gesture. But I can’t do anything else.

  I take a few steps backwards, terrified by our closeness, by the longing that still pulls me towards her.

  She put her hands on me, made me feel like I could still be part of something. But the memory of who I was, and the fear of being shut out once again is stronger than anything else. Without a word, I run out of the café, leaving her alone.

  I sprint down the street, faster than I ever do on the field. I run away, a coward; I escape my desire to feel something real, to let another woman make me forget who I am. I’ll never let her, or anyone else, dictate my life.

  26

  Chris

  “Are we lost?” Vic elbows me.

  “Me? No, I was just…”

  What was I doing? Oh, right – I was thinking about last night.

  “You’re being weird today, are you ill?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Mmm…”

  “What’s wrong with you? Get to work, there are tables that need clearing.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m going. Wow, someone’s touchy today.”

  Vic walks off and I immediately feel guilty for treating her like that. I don’t usually give orders like that to any of my colleagues, let alone to her.

  I make myself another coffee as the queue at the counter gets longer and longer; but today, I really can’t be bothered to work or chat.

  I’m in a terrible mood. I feel stupid, messed around. I really feel like shit. I shouldn’t feel like that, I should be used to this – I should know what men are like by now, understand when they’re being dickheads. And I know full well that he is one. But all it took were his hands, his warm breath against my neck, the illusion that he wanted to kiss me and draw me in, to turn my world completely upside-down. Okay, I’d had two glasses of wine, but I’m sure it was more than that.

  Ryan O’Connor is a Greek God, sculpted from pure marble. All tough, smart-arse attitude. He has a horrible personality – always bitter and grumpy – but he has abs to die for, and enormous hands that make you run away with your fantasies, right into your own destruction.

  He turned up here, he helped me; then he came close, and I believed that…no. I always end up in the same trap. I’ll never learn.

  I should know by now that men like him are never good news. They always lead to sleepless nights, too many glasses of wine, and a nightstand covered in snotty tissues. I should learn that I never attract the right type of guy – never seriously, at least – and I’m tired of hoping for a miracle.

  I dejectedly sip at my coffee and go back to work – at least it’ll keep me busy.

  “Hey, Chris!”

  I look up.

  “Oh…Riley,” I say, unnecessarily embarrassed.

  “We just popped in for some breakfast,” she says, pointing to a table where the O’Connors are sitting. “It’s my birthday today, and they insisted on spending the morning with me, seeing as they’re not coming along to the party tonight.”

  “No way! Really?” I come out from behind the counter and hug her. “Happy Birthday Riley – you look great!”

  “I’m getting pretty big.”

  “Beautifully big,” I smile at her. “Go sit yourself down, I’ll be right over.”

  Riley heads back to their table and sits between the O’Connors, who fuss around her: just as they should. Apart from it being her birthday, she’s Ian’s girlfriend and she’s about to have his baby.

  I sigh sadly, grabbing my notepad to take their order.

  “Good morning, guys!” I greet them warmly. “I just found out it’s someone’s birthday today.”

  Mrs O’Connor hugs her tightly, smiling.

  “So, what can I get for you?”

  “Three full Irish breakfasts, two cappuccinos and an americano, please.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I go to place the check on the counter, then decide to turn back and sit with them for a few minutes.

  “Are you going anywhere nice tonight to celebrate?”

  “Ian and Jamie – my brother – have decided that we have to celebrate big-time this year. So they’re taking me to the Club.”

  “The Club?” I ask, curious.

  “Yeah, the team’s clubhouse. I know it doesn’t sound like the best place, but they insisted and they’ve organised a private event there.”

  “You’ll be the queen of the party.”

  “Yeah…” she sighs. “I don’t really feel comfortable being the centre of attention, but I guess I can put up with it just this once.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have fun.”

  “You should come along, too!”

  “M-me?” I ask, panicking.

  “Sure, I’d love you to be there.”

  “But I don’t think I should…”

  “Why not?” Karen interjects.

  “I don’t really have many friends, apart from my colleagues, so it would be really nice to have you with us,” Riley presses.

  “No, it’s not…”

  “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

  “It’s just – I won’t know anyone…”

  “You know me, the birthday girl. And you know Ian and his brothers, right?”

  His brothers. Yep.

  “You never know, you might meet someone…” she looks at me, eyes twinkling. “Unless you’re already seeing someone?”

  Seeing someone, me? She must be kidding.

  “Come on, I’ll give you the address. It’s just outside town, but there’s no traffic in the evening so it won’t take you long to get there.”

  “I’m not promising anything…” I say, because I have absolutely no intention of going – but it seems harsh to say this to her.

  I lend her a pen and my pad, and she writes the address down on it, handing it back to me.

  “I’m counting on you,” she says hopefully, and I can already feel myself giving in.

  It’s not every day that I’m invited somewhere, and even though he’ll be there, I don’t want to hold myself back. I’m not the sort of person who hides away – I have no reason to. Besides, I’m not scared of seeing him or being close to him. I have to show him that he has no effect on me – none at all – and that last night wasn’t a big deal, even though I can already feel my stomach churning and my heart beating a little too fast.

  27

  Ryan

  I’m sat at the bar with a pint in front of me that I have absolutely no intention of drinking – mainly because of my incessant stomach ache. I’m set apart from the crowd, people-watching. Almost all the guys from the team are here, my brothers, some of Riley’s friends, and obviously the birthday girl.

  Everyone’s laughing, dancing, having fun. They’re all happy – it makes me want to go over to them, one by one, and shake them by the shoulders, ask them why the hell they’re so cheerful. Why they’re laughing instead of screaming, pretending that life is one big party, instead of admitting that it’s actually all just shit.

  “You not joining in?” Ian appears behind me.

  “With what?”

  “You’re at a party, Ryan, you could at least make an effort.”

  “I’m here, like you wanted. Don’t expect me to jump onto the dancefloor and shout with joy.”

  “No, of course not – I wouldn’t ask that much. But you could at least go and talk to someone.”

  “I’m fine over here.”

  “You’re so…Jesus, I could punch you right in the face sometimes.”

  “Go for it.”

  “When you act like this, it really makes me want to come at you with a chainsaw.”

  “I’m faster than you – you’d never catch me.”

  “Let’s test that, shall we?”

  “Don’t you have someone to love over there?” I say, pointing to Riley wh
o’s chatting to her friends.

  “I do have someone to love. And I love her. You know something, little Ryan?” he asks, winding me up, although I don’t react – Riley would never forgive me – “We’re really happy.”

  He finally leaves me alone, and I can get back to my favourite pastime: watching other people get on my nerves.

  I glance over at the stairs up to the exit, considering going out to get some fresh air, when I see a pair of legs coming down slowly.

  My stomach ache immediately gets worse.

  She places her foot on the last step, standing there for a few moments as she looks around, lost.

  I grip my pint tightly – I have to grab hold of something.

  She takes a few steps into the room and tucks her hair behind her ears. She’s wearing a black, figure-hugging dress that doesn’t quite reach her knees, and a pair of heels that show off her legs. That damn smile is framed by two deep eyes, illuminated like headlights in the fog.

  I’ve drunk half my pint without even realising. I didn’t even want to drink tonight.

  When she sees Riley and goes to greet her, I follow the movement of her legs until they stop, my eyes climbing further and further up. When she turns around then, giving me a view of her butt, I don’t know whether to keep my eyes glued there, or move them up to her bare back, left on display by a dress that dips right down to her lower back.

  Holy shit.

  I stay sat there, staring at her like a hormonal teenager, as she says hi to Riley, Riley’s friends, Ian, and then…him.

  Of course. How did I not see this coming?

  A few minutes later, after laughing at his jokes, they head to the dancefloor. Together. He brushes against her, touches her, slides his hands all over her: just like the bastard he’s always been.

  And she’s okay with it. Man, is she okay with it. Every woman is okay with him.

  I jump up, pulled forward by an inexplicable anger, urging me to finish what I started all those years ago. I storm up the stairs and head outside, regretting that I didn’t bring a paper bag with me.

  I lean back against the wall and let my head fall against the brick. No – I smack it back against the brick, hoping to batter the memory of what I’ve just seen out of my brain.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Bloody fantastic. He’s just who I wanted to see.

  “What are you doing out here? You were so busy in there…” I can’t even finish my own sentence.

  “Mmm?”

  “Just leave it.”

  “I have left it,” he says, leaning on the wall next to me. “You’re the one who shouldn’t do it.”

  “Me? What?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Okay, let’s see…I’ll refresh your memory, shall I? Black dress, bare back, red hair…”

  “Go fuck yourself, Nick!”

  “I think it’s you who needs to fuck something.”

  “You’re a piece of shit.”

  “No, Ryan. I’m not the piece of shit here. Not this time.”

  “You’re always a piece of shit,” I say, peeling myself off the wall and turning to face him.

  “Wow…don’t tell me you’ve finally decided to grow a pair?”

  “It’s just us out here. Don’t make me finish what I started.”

  “Go on, then,” he says, opening out his arms. “You don’t have the balls anyway – just like you don’t have the balls to go back downstairs and act like a man, instead of like an upset little boy crying in the corner because he thinks the world is against him.”

  I grab him by his shirt collar and drag him towards me.

  “Do it, Ryan. Do something for fuck’s sake! Do anything, but just snap out of it!”

  I drop him back down. It makes no sense to waste my energy on him.

  “You know what, Nick? Fuck you. Go back to where you came from, no one wants you here. No one needs you,” I growl through my teeth, before heading back downstairs and ignoring the growing pain that I know has nothing to do with Nick.

  But everything to do with me.

  It’s always me.

  28

  Chris

  After meeting most of the other guests, and dancing with half the rugby team, I decide to go to the bar for a break. I order a rum and coke and casually – well, almost – take a seat on a stool that’s a little too tall for me.

  I watch the room: the guests, the happy, party atmosphere, and I tell myself that I’ve made a good choice in coming here and ignoring him.

  I didn’t even notice him. He doesn’t exist.

  Shit. That’s a lie.

  He was the first thing I noticed as I came down the stairs, sitting alone at the bar, trailing his bottom lip on the floor, as if he’d been forced to come along – just like when I force Evan to do something he doesn’t want to do.

  I realise that’s not the best comparison to make: comparing Ryan to my son, a man to a teenager. Maybe it’s because Ryan O’Connor barely acts like a man.

  Okay, that’s another lie.

  Ryan O’Connor is a man. And what a man.

  Nope, I didn’t notice him at all. I didn’t notice his blue shirt, with the sleeves pushed back to his elbows, showing off his muscular biceps. I didn’t notice his tightly-fitting jeans, like a second skin against his firm legs. I also didn’t notice his light hair falling messily over his forehead, or his sexy beard. Or his penetrating blue eyes that could make ice melt.

  Nope. I didn’t notice any of it.

  I take a few sips of my drink as Riley waves at me from across the room, pressed up against Ian on the dancefloor. They’re beautiful. Perfect. In love.

  I’m not jealous, though.

  I put my glass back down on the bar as a hand grabs me forcefully, making me jump.

  “What the hell…?”

  “Let’s go,” he says, anger in his voice.

  “Sorry?”

  “Come and dance. With me.”

  “Have you hit your head? I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “You really are a—”

  “A dickhead? A bastard? Whatever you like. But you’re going to come and dance with me now, and I won’t ask again.”

  “You’re impossible, you know – you’re…”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it. Less chat,” he concludes, before dragging me across to the dancefloor.

  “You’re controlling, obnoxious…”

  “Whatever you want,” he says, tightening his grip on my wrist. “Just dance.”

  I give in – or, my body gives in. How could I control him?

  Ryan pulls me against him, domineering. His body is exactly like I imagined: as hard as marble, maybe harder. His hands keep me bound to his body. It’s not intimate – it’s irritating, possessive – but I like it.

  I must be completely mad.

  It isn’t really a slow song, but it has a certain sensual rhythm, making me abandon myself to him. I let him slide his hands down my back, the heat and pressure of his fingers on my body making me lose control.

  I can feel his desire through his shirt. He’s radiating an unbearable heat that almost burns my skin, despite the two layers of clothing between us.

  He’s tense, nervous, almost uncomfortable. There’s no movement in his arms. He won’t look at me, doesn’t want any real contact. His mind is somewhere else.

  He’s completely elsewhere.

  He’s not really here with me.

  It’s as if Ryan O’Connor is an empty shell, as if he’s sold his soul. As if he’d lost part of himself out in the street – and, despite myself, I want to know why.

  “Why are we dancing?” I ask him, suddenly.

  “What?” He looks at me.

  “You don’t really want to dance with me.”

  “Looks like I do, doesn’t it?”

  “You’re not really here, thoug
h.”

  “What the fuck does that mean? I’m holding you, can’t you feel it?” He squeezes my hips, but this time his touch frustrates me.

  I pull away from him and his stare darkens.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I thought I made it clear.”

  “You’re the one who asked me to dance – actually, you forced me to.”

  “Oh, come on. Didn’t you want to?”

  “I what…?”

  “Don’t pretend with me, Christine. I know exactly what you’re looking for, so here I am. Wasn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t it what all you women want?”

  “You have no idea what I want, and you can’t compare me to anyone else. You don’t even know me, Ryan O’Connor!”

  “Exactly: I don’t know you. But I don’t have to. We both know how this is going to end.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “All you want is someone to fuck.”

  I push him away, quickly.

  “You really are a bastard, you know that?”

  “Don’t you women like it like that?”

  “Can you stop talking about all women? I’m me, and no – I don’t like bastards.”

  “Oh, come on, knock it off. Or maybe you were just interested in someone else – my brother, for example.”

  “Go fuck yourself, Ryan.”

  I sprint off the dancefloor, desperately searching for the toilets so that I can cry in private.

  I realise it makes no sense. His words shouldn’t hurt me, I barely know him. We have nothing in common, nothing to talk about – but I still feel like an idiot, like a poor deluded girl who thought that maybe…

  Ryan O’Connor isn’t what I thought. He’s worse. Much worse. He’s a fucking heartless bastard, and I have no intention of letting him toy with my heart.

  29

  Ryan

  That crazy bitch abandons me on the dancefloor. She turns her back on me and leaves, offended by something I’ve said. But I don’t get it.

  What have I done wrong? I gave her what she wanted – or rather, I offered her exactly what she was looking for, because I knew what it was. What else could anyone want with someone like me?