22. Matthias

22

MATTHIAS

I 'd made a dare with myself: stay away from Ciaran at all costs.

If I ran into him in the course of the day, I'd be pleasant. I'd answer his questions.

But that was it.

I'd talk to Miss Paulina today about finding a room for him in the big house, because having one measly wall between us was not going to work.

Ciaran was within reach, easy reach. He was like an ice cream cone I didn't get to finish, and I didn't trust myself after having a taste last night. The gash marks on my lower back proved it.

I checked in on him this morning before heading down to the pool. Ciaran was still out cold, snoring up a storm. I removed the bucket so he wouldn't see it upon waking. I didn't think he'd remember events from last night, but just in case, I didn't want the kid to feel like shit.

Franky hadn't arrived yet, but it was early.

As soon as I changed into my competition swim briefs, cap, and goggles, I dove into the water. The cold water sluiced around me, waking my cells, activating my brain. The chlorine stung the gashes in my lower back, but I could deal with that.

From there, instinct took over. The water was my home.

If I was upset, I went into the water.

If I was happy, I went into the water.

If I was in no mood at all, I went into the water.

Today, I was angry at myself, at my actions from last night, so into the water I went.

Punishing myself, I pushed hard on my backstroke, with each relay getting slower and sloppier due to my shoulder.

It screamed at me.

I deserved the pain.

I deserved to suffer.

Truth was, I was getting in my own head.

I knew I needed to rest my shoulder and after going at it hard for nearly an hour, I went to the showers to wash off the chlorine.

The changing room was misty, so at first I wasn't aware of Ciaran.

I'd had the space to myself ever since Dante left home, so it never occurred to me to conform to modesty.

Honestly, I could have alerted Ciaran earlier than I did, but I shamelessly enjoyed his heated gaze on me, especially when he zeroed in on my crotch.

Ciaran had to lift his jaw from the floor.

I saw the flitting emotions cross his face. It was clear he was debating his options.

I figured it was best not to acknowledge it but I didn't move to get dressed, either. So much for avoiding Ciaran. I was playing with fire.

"Going to do laps?" I asked.

Ciaran's throat bobbed. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Seeing Ciaran partially clothed? Yes, that was going to be a problem.

"No," I lied . "What's your stroke?"

"Freestyle. You?"

"Individual medley," I answered. "But I'm partial to butterfly."

"Fascinating," Ciaran deadpanned.

I wanted to laugh as it was clear he'd gotten over the shock of seeing me naked. He shoved past me and stacked his clothes on the bench near the short wall of lockers. Without a backward glance, he started changing into his swim gear. He didn't have competition briefs, but instead wore regular swim trunks.

I didn't stare, but I caught a glimpse of his tight ass before he yanked up the swim trunks.

Instead of changing back into my regular clothes, I stepped into my swim briefs.

"What are you doing?" Ciaran asked, looking over his shoulder.

"I want to check your game. I'll take a few laps with you."

It wasn't like he could stop me, so I didn't expect him to really protest. What would he do? Order me to leave my own pool?

He jumped in the shower to wet himself down before getting into the pool.

"What happened last night?" Ciaran asked. Together, we left the changing room and came to the edge of the pool. "Did you bring me back to my room?"

I'd been dreading the question.

"What do you remember?" I probed.

He gave me a dirty look. Ciaran knew I was feeling him out first before answering.

"I don't remember much, Matthias. My knuckles are bruised and you have a busted lip. Either the U.S. Customs and Border Protection agency ambushed us last night or you pissed me off enough to punch you."

I offered him a smile. "Which scenario would you prefer?"

Side by side, we dove into the water, and when we broke the surface, Ciaran said, "Punching you would definitely make my day, Matthias."

Water droplets hung on his eyelashes and I was momentarily speechless.

Get ahold of yourself, Matty.

"Such passion, Ciaran. I never took you for a violent person."

"You mean to say you don't know everything about me after being in my company for all of twenty-four hours?"

I shoved him playfully. "Sarcastic little shit."

"I'm eighteen, what do you expect?" He splashed back from the next swim lane.

"Barely, and trust me, I don't need the reminder," I grumbled. "You drank too much last night and got into a fight at the beach party. I brought you back to the guesthouse."

"Who'd I punch?"

I considered lying but decided against it. "Me."

"Damn," Ciaran said, whistling through his teeth. I thought he was going to apologize. Well, I thought wrong. "I wish I remembered it."

I let out a bark of laughter and it echoed throughout the basement.

"Why'd I punch you?" he continued.

"I prevented you from getting more drunk. You didn't like that." Ciaran took in the information without comment, so I finished, "So now that you know what happened last night, I dare you to show me what you got."

I jerked my head down the swim lanes.

"I don't do dares, remember?" Ciaran crossed his arms across his chest.

"Or promises. Yeah, so you've been telling me. I don't get the big deal."

"The big deal is that it's usually one-sided. You'd get to dare me, but I won't get to dare you. Same with promises. They're never equal. That's been my experience, at any rate."

He added the last part as an afterthought and I wondered if someone had abused him in some way by couching actions as dares or promises.

I'd have to tread carefully here.

"I've never given it much thought before," I admitted, "but I think you have a point. Someone always seems to have the upper hand. How about this: we take turns on the dares, and they are of equal value."

"Like, you can't dare me to swim down this lane and then I dare you to rob a bank?"

"That's far-fetched, but yeah." I watched Ciaran split into a shit-eating grin. "You were being flippant, got it."

"It's so easy to get under your skin, Matty."

I was going to heartily disagree with him, but when he called me Matty, a warm feeling spread deep in my chest. What the hell was wrong with me?

"If you swim a few laps with me, then I'll do something you want."

"Take me for a spin in your Ferrari."

It was less a dare and more a deal, but I could accept that.

"Too easy. Now…swim."

I slipped under the water and watched him from a few feet below the surface, holding my breath as I swam parallel. Ciaran's form was excellent as his muscles rippled in the water. He was light, fast, his movements smooth, almost like he was dancing under water. He was only three years my junior, but his kicks were already very powerful, his coordination synchronized.

We weren't timing ourselves, but I'd guess he completed the fifty meters in roughly fifty seconds. For a first lap after a night of heavy drinking, that was an amazing time.

"Were you watching me?" he asked when we came to the end of the lane. He ran his hands through his wet hair, slicking it back.

"Wanted to see what I was working with," I clarified. I pushed my goggles to my forehead and Ciaran did the same. "You're good. Have you ever placed in a competition?"

"When I was younger," Ciaran said. "I came in second place a few times. But once Mom and I took over my grandpa's deli, swimming became less a priority. I was still part of my school's swim team, but it's tough to compete when I needed to be behind the cash register most nights and weekends."

We swam a few more laps before my shoulder gave out, though I didn't say anything.

"Not much time for socialization, was there?" I asked.

"If you counted our regular customers, then yeah, I was constantly around others. Vegas peeps are interesting characters. You get everyone from high rollers who are staying at a nearby penthouse suite, to the unhomed individuals from around the corner."

"Who was the more interesting of the two?"

We waded in the water, just talking. Ciaran was just as comfortable in the water as I was. He seemed open to conversation, too.

"The better question is, who did I appreciate more. The high roller expected free food. The unhomed couldn't afford it but always came in offering something. Mom would charge them a quarter for a full combo meal."

"Your mom sounds like an amazing woman."

"The best. I don't know how your dad convinced her to marry him, but it must have been an offer she couldn't refuse."

"What do you mean?" Mostly, I was curious. Wouldn't the money have helped? I didn't say that out loud as I knew Ciaran wouldn't appreciate it.

"She'd been proposed to so many times, it wasn't even funny. Even wealthy men, like casino owners. Maybe not as wealthy as your father, but still wealthy enough that she wouldn't have to scrounged in the deli ever again. I just pray he's good to her."

That made sense. "If it's helpful, I've never seen him in love like this. My dad's only ever been married once, and that was to my mom. He's had a handful of girlfriends, but none have ever come close to becoming ‘Mrs. Vaulteneau.' I truly think it was love at first sight for my dad."

"That must explain it," Ciaran said with a tinge of bitterness.

"What, you don't believe in love at first sight?"

He thought about that for a long moment, even going under water to rewet his hair.

"I dare you to answer the question first," Ciaran said instead of answering.

My lips curled into a smile. "Nicely played. Okay, let's see," I said, swimming under the lane divider and away from him for a few paces before turning around to face him. "Do I believe in love at first sight?"

"Stop stalling and answer my dare, Matty."

This was a weird conversation between stepbrothers.

"No," I answered. "I don't. My turn. I dare you to swim to the bottom of the pool and do a handstand."

Ciaran gave me a nonplussed look but complied. Sinking to the bottom of the pool, I watched him perform the move with very little effort. I even gave him a thumbs-up, to which he flipped me the bird when he turned right side up.

He splashed up. "I just noticed your back. What happened?"

I knew it would be difficult to hide the gashes in the pool. My mind went back to last night, to how Ciaran dug into me possessively. I flushed and heat spread up my chest and face.

"It's nothing."

"The hell it is," Ciaran said. "You have large gashes on your lower back, like someone clawed you."

Ciaran closed the distance between us. Freckles popped on his face and his eyebrows bunched up.

Thankfully, Ciaran didn't remember. That's all that mattered.

When I didn't answer right away, he pushed against my shoulder, and I winced.

"Is your shoulder injured, too?" Ciaran asked with some urgency, swimming to my side. He cupped my shoulder gently, feeling around. I grumbled as he did it. "Matty, your tendons are swollen." He moved to face me, and I watched as he inspected my left, unharmed shoulder, and then inspected my right shoulder again. "You need to lay off the shoulder for a while, man."

Ciaran swam behind me, his hands cupping both shoulders, comparing them. "Yeah, it's bad. I don't think you should swim for several weeks, at least."

Then, without warning, he slipped under the water. I felt him at my lower back.

His fingers traced the gashes. Every spot he touched was like fire igniting beneath my skin.

It wouldn't take a scientist to figure out how I got the scratches.

When he resurfaced, he was still behind me, and he rephrased his question. "How'd you get the gashes?"

I felt his breath on my ear.

His feet skimmed mine. His hands tingled at my back.

"Does it matter?" I asked.

"I dare you to tell me the truth."

I spun around to face him. "How do you think I got them?"

Ciaran's back was pressed against the pool wall. His blue eyes reflected the pool's sparkling water. If he put his hands right where the gashes were, he'd realize his fingers matched perfectly.

"It doesn't matter what I think," Ciaran said. "It's a dare. Tell me what happened last night."

Was he trying to play me? Given the fact that I hadn't swum away, Ciaran must have sensed that I was, well, interested in his interrogation.

I already knew for a fact that he was into guys. That knowledge alone, and my lack of fleeing the scene, pretty much spoke volumes.

Maybe he was playing a game of chicken.

All I knew was that my erection was uncomfortable in my tight swim briefs.

Ciaran's leg hooked my ankle, pulling me closer, close enough that we were almost touching.

Without thinking, my hands drifted to his hips, and I felt a sudden spark of awareness. Ciaran's eyes widened. Did he feel it, too?

Didn't I tell myself to steer clear of Ciaran only a few hours ago?

I stared at his kissable mouth.

I knew what those lips were capable of. What they tasted like.

I knew how hungry he was. The air was thick with it. Ciaran would be a passionate lover one day, but it wasn't for me to discover.

And I could not, under any circumstance, tell him the truth. It was too shameful.

In a moment of clarity, I swam back just enough to save me from making a fool of myself.

"I brought someone home last night," I said, instead. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth, either.

Ciaran's face hardened. I knew he was imagining me with someone else. Part of me was happy that it upset him. It meant he wanted me. That his passion for me last night wasn't completely a lie. Sure, he'd called me someone else's name, but he'd been drunk.

Ciaran took a deep breath. "I assess you are lying." Then he hoisted himself out of the pool without another word.