33. Ciaran

33

CIARAN

I n something of a kissed-induced high, I bent down to collect one of Matty's T-shirts from the floor and threw it over my head. The sensation of feeling underdressed was nonsensical considering everyone else was dressed for the beach.

But when everyone's eyes were locked on us, I wanted a small protective barrier. Plus, I wasn't sure how Matty would react given the situation.

Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about needing to cover my erection. My dick shrank the second I spotted Zoey at the door.

My lips still stung from Matty's hungry kisses. The urge to lift my fingers and touch my mouth was so strong I had to physically restrain myself. It was like I needed proof that it actually happened.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that Matty liked me—wanted me—kissed me…that he wanted to do even more than that. I needed a good half-evening to myself just to dwell on recent developments. And then after that, I wanted to sit down with Matty and discuss everything. I wanted to go over every moment we'd ever shared together, to ask him questions, to get clarity.

The audience before us, however, prevented this.

Zoey's intense stare was filled with confusion. She'd opened her mouth a few times but didn't make a sound. Tall and lithe, she was more beautiful in person than in photographs. Her long blond hair, which was gathered up in a messy topknot, gleamed bright and shiny.

Looking between Zoey and Matty, I had to admit that they made an attractive pair. I wasn't entirely sure what Matty meant when he said they were not in a real relationship, so my guess was her confusion was less about his being caught with someone, but more about Matty being caught with another guy . It wasn't like Matty gave much indication of his sexual preferences, but when we first met I didn't exactly get gay vibes, so I wasn't surprised at Zoey's shocked expression.

There was a second or two of stunned silence before Joan said, "You owe me fifty bucks, Filipe."

Filipe merely sighed.

Of the three, Filipe didn't seem to be heavily invested. He went to lie face-up on the bed and essentially checked out of the conversation. Joan, still at the door, appeared to be giddy, whereas Zoey, from the middle of the room, didn't seem to know whether to stay or go.

Matty was surprisingly quiet, but then he said, "I guess you all know."

Which, on reflection, could have meant anything from, Zoey, I guess you know know I'm into guys , to Joan and Filipe, I guess you know I like Ciaran .

He gave me a reassuring smile before putting his arm around my shoulder.

My heart squeezed at that and together we walked out of the closet into the bedroom.

"I'm confused," Zoey announced. Her voice was beautiful. I could see her on a stage, rehearsing lines. "Are you gay, Matty?"

"No," he answered simply.

"Are you straight?" she continued.

"No," Matty replied without expanding.

"That was helpful," Zoey scoffed. "Thanks."

Was he bisexual?

Curiosity aside, it really didn't matter. Matty's sexuality was his own business. He'd once said that Filipe and Joan's relationship could not be defined. Did he think the same about himself? Would he think that about us? Heat crept into my cheeks. Leave it up to me to jump right into "relationship" thoughts after kissing him once.

Zoey's eyebrows furrowed once she finally focused on me. I didn't realize she hadn't actually looked at me until I felt the fury of her gaze.

A flash of disgust darkened her expression. "Aren't you two, like, stepbrothers?" she asked. You'd think she'd just stepped in a pile of dog shit.

"No," we both said at the same time.

I added, "Our parents only just got married. We weren't raised together."

" We weren't raised together ," Zoey mimicked. "You're delusional if you think everyone's going to be cool about it."

Zoey probably had a point, but I suspected my mom would be mostly okay with it. She just wanted me to be happy. I didn't know about Stefon. I stole a glance at Matty. His stoic expression gave nothing away.

"I don't know why you think it's any of your concern, Zoey," Matty said, his voice clipped.

"It's my concern when the media thinks we're dating. Between the two of us, who falls on their face when the truth comes out? It certainly won't be the son of a billionaire."

Matty gave that some thought. "You're right." He let his arm drop from my shoulder. A slight pang twisted my stomach, but Matty was only moving so he could slip his hand into mine. Our fingers interlaced and I'm sure the smile on my face could banish shadows. "The charade ends tonight."

"Wait." Zoey's eyes went wide. Panic obviously started setting in. "That's not what I?—"

"The good news is," Matty continued, not moved by her immediate alarm, "you've made headway in the last few months. I'll let you send out the breakup message to the press. You have full creative control over the narrative. Paint me as a bastard if you want, I really don't care."

"Matty," she cautioned, "Coach is not going to like this."

He nodded. "I'll deal with your dad in my own way." Matty looked to me and read the question in my eyes. I was, for the most part, still in the dark on his deal with Zoey. "I'll explain later."

"Okay," I said, squeezing his hand in return.

Filipe sat up after hearing Matty's statement. "Dude, rethink this. Coach Anderson can get you to the Olympic level. It's been your dream since you were ten years old."

"Listen to your friend, Matty," Zoey said, "I know our deal was forced on you, but you are a great swimmer. Coach says you're one of the best but that you're getting in your own way." Her face softened. I found it interesting that she called her dad Coach and not Dad . "Don't make a decision tonight. It's been an emotional evening for all of us."

"Blackmailers have emotions?" Joan asked with satisfaction.

What did that mean? I thought.

Zoey bared her teeth at Joan. To Matty, Zoey added in a placating tone, "Just think about it. That's all I'm asking."

"Can't believe I'm about to say this, Matty, but I agree with Zoey," Filipe chimed in.

Joan shot a glare at Filipe, who shrugged.

"Screw Coach Anderson," Joan interjected. "I can dismantle USA Swimming's networks, just say the word."

Matty's lips quirked. "Calm down, Miss Anarchist."

Joan, who clearly wasn't happy about being in the minority, flashed a bright smile at being called Miss Anarchist.

Matty looked at me and seemed to be asking for my opinion.

I cleared my throat. "I don't know enough about, well, everything, but my mom always says to get a good night's sleep and then have a hearty breakfast before making a big decision."

"All right," Matty said, smiling at me. "I'll think about it, Zoey, but only because I think Ciaran is right."

"Thanks," she said. Zoey hovered at the doorway. It looked like she wanted to say more but no one was interested in her company, so in the end she added, "I'll see myself out."

No one said anything as she left. A minute later, I heard the faint click of the front door.

"Spill everything ," Joan gushed as she rushed up to me. She pushed Matty aside. "Who made the first move?"

"Ah…" I stuttered.

"Joan," Filipe chastised. "You leave that boy alone."

"When did you know you liked each other?" she continued. "Day one? Two? Five minutes ago?"

Her arms were now around my shoulders, guiding me to Matty's desk chair.

"Joan." Filipe jumped up from the bed.

Matty's eyes were laughing at the scene. He was leaning against the closet doorframe, his arms crossed, looking comfortable…and very sexy. The message, whether he was intending to convey it or not, told me he was not embarrassed by his friends knowing about us.

If I was going to get emotional about anything tonight, it would be about that. I blinked away the sting of happy tears.

"I'm not done, Filipe," Joan said. Her pretty gold-brown eyes were locked on mine, her eyebrows quizzically high. Whispering, she asked, "Did you see it ?"

My mouth went dry.

Was…was she asking if I'd seen Matty's cock? My ears burned. Joan was not shy. Words failed me.

Filipe sighed, his hands on his slim hips. "She's going to make me do it."

"I think she is," Matty affirmed, his lips twitching.

Filipe picked Joan up by the waist and tossed her over his shoulder.

"Filipe! Put me down, you brute!" she yelled even as she started laughing. "Ciaran, you can tell me everything later on. Call, text, I don't care. I need every detail."

"See you later, Joan," I said, chuckling. "Thanks Filipe."

Filipe winked as he left the bedroom.

"Filipe," Matty called. Filipe halted in the hallway. I noticed he was extra careful to ensure Joan's head didn't smack against the wall. She was still yelling at him to put her down, but in a weird way, I suspected this was a form of foreplay for them. "Come back in an hour. Joan mentioned meeting her contact tonight."

"You got it," Filipe said before marching down the stairs.

Matty took several long steps toward his door. He closed it and locked it for good measure.

"Finally," he breathed out as he pressed his back against the door. His eyes were troubled, like maybe he was unsure of himself.

"Finally," I echoed.

I pushed myself up from the chair and he met me halfway, stopping just short of touching me. He was still shirtless and I ached to run my hands across his chest. Mostly, though, I wanted to hug him.

Now that things were not so hot and heavy, worry tickled my stomach. What if he changed his mind? What if he'd just been caught up in the moment?

I didn't think we had time—or the inclination at the moment—to resume what we'd started in the closet. But I wanted contact. I needed—no, I craved —a connection with him.

Reaching up, I cupped his jaw, leaned in, and kissed him lightly on the lips. Then, I pulled him into a searing hug.

I heard the catch in his throat and my heart all but soared.