74. Matthias

74

MATTHIAS

C iaran always seemed to know what to say to get through my waterlogged brain.

One lap at a time.

"I can do that," I murmured against his chest, feeling his arms tight around me, holding me close.

I clung to my boyfriend like I was lost at sea and he was my life raft. I liked thinking about how I had a boyfriend when I'd never had one before.

"I don't know about Nationals tryouts, though," I continued. "I mean, if I'm in an out-patient rehab program for drugs and alcohol addiction issues, I'll probably get suspended from the team. Olympic Trials are a pipe dream at this point, too."

"You might," Ciaran said thoughtfully. He didn't offer platitudes or flimsy excuses like my teammates would have done. He just acknowledged it, and for some reason that made me think I could withstand the disgrace, that I could face my issues head on instead of drowning them out with drugs, alcohol, or meaningless sex like I used to. "Or you might not."

I pulled away and grimaced. "How insightful of you, Ciaran."

He thumped my forehead and I called him a brat.

"I know it's your dream to make it to the Olympics," Ciaran offered, his tone soft, "but it's not a one-time thing. Get healthy, let your shoulder heal, and get your mind in the right headspace. So much of what we do in life is mental. One lap at a time, Matty. You can always enter the tryouts during the next cycle."

Ciaran had a point. Competing at the national level wasn't a one-and-done type of thing. The old me, prior to meeting Ciaran, would have pushed to compete, get that medal, and party like a rock star with people I wouldn't remember in the morning.

The new me nodded at his boyfriend, because his boyfriend was smart and kind and also very, very hot. "One lap at a time," I echoed, a bit more firmly this time.

Ciaran's phone, which was on the nightstand, started buzzing again.

We shared a knowing look.

"The outside world can no longer be ignored," Ciaran teased. We knew what the texts and missed calls would be about. He dug my phone out from underneath his pillow and then grabbed his. "Shall we?"

When I unlocked my home screen, I had dozens of texts from Joan and Filipe. My swim team group text was also alight with messages, all saying the same thing: Coach Anderson had been fired.

There was one message from Dante that read, Got wind of the story from Dad. Andy was always a jerk but I didn't know he was capable of doing that. Hopefully Ciaran is doing OK. Andy texted me, too, to say he was making an extended stay at a buddy's place in Sydney to "weather the storm." Asshole. I didn't reply. Suffice to say, he won't be a nuisance. Also, Dad said you and Ciaran were dating…surely he was joking???

I fired off a quick reply to Dante. Thanks bro. Means a lot. And no, Dad wasn't joking. I'll fill you in later.

"Did you see what Joan sent?" Ciaran asked.

She'd sent a link to USC's Athletics Department website. Beneath that she typed out, Buh-Bye MF! , which made me chuckle.

Filipe wrote: Stefon didn't mess around. Coach is finished. The story is already on SportsCenter .

Beside me, Ciaran started reading the article in question on his phone. "USC has parted ways with men's swim coach Roderick Anderson after it was discovered that the renowned two-time Olympic gold-medal-winning swimmer has allegedly been involved in an illegal gambling scheme that involved taking bets pertaining to USC's competition results, which is a direct violation of his contract. No other statements will be made at this time. All questions should be addressed to the Los Angeles district attorney's office." Ciaran paused. "Do you think it's true?"

"A cover story to hush up the real story? Could be, but then again, knowing about Coach's blackmailing scheme, I wouldn't be surprised if it was true." Ciaran just stared at me for a long moment. "What?"

"I don't think it truly hit me until now just how powerful your family is." It wasn't said with awe or reverence. Ciaran appeared to be stunned. "We told our parents only a few hours ago."

"First off…" I put my phone down and leaned into him. "It's our family. You're now part of this sordid world of glitz and glam and all the seedy things that come along with it. And secondly, it probably just took a phone call from my dad asking the president of USC to take a closer look at Coach's finances. Boom, done."

I glanced at Ciaran's phone. I saw that he had a number of texts from his friend Raj. I wondered if the gossip about Drew fucking Jones had hit Ciaran's Vegas friends.

"It's just going to take me a while to get used to it," Ciaran answered. "Like, at least five to ten years."

I grinned. "If that means you're still putting up with me for that long, then I'm okay with it." Ciaran kissed me then. The heat of his lips scorched my skin in all the right ways. I wanted to take it further by pushing him down on the mattress and exploring him with my mouth and fingers. But part of me knew Ciaran was stalling. There were messages on his phone that he hadn't offered to discuss and I wasn't above trying to get him to confide in me. So when I pulled back, he whined, his lips chasing mine. "Your turn," I said. "Any news from your friends?"

Ciaran cleared his throat before giving me his phone. His friend Raj had called at least five times and left a voicemail.

"Can we listen?" I ask. When Ciaran nodded, I pressed Play on Raj's voicemail.

"Hey Ciaran," Raj's voicemail started. "You probably haven't heard, but word is that Mr. Jones submitted his resignation this morning." Raj's voice, while deep, had a hesitancy to it, like he really did not want to be leaving any of this on a voicemail. "I've tried to call you a few times already. In fact, we all have. No one knows for sure why Mr. Jones left, but rumor is he ran off with a freshman, which is of course stupid. But," Raj said with a high-octave laugh, "out of all of us, you knew him best, so we were sorta wondering if you knew what had happened. Anyway, call me back. Plus, we need to plan your birthday bash. Ms. Galbr—er, I mean your mom mentioned something about throwing a big party in Malibu. Don't let her forget that she offered to fly us over in that sweet private jet. Oh, and Rowen's dying to drive your stepbrother's Ferrari, so put in a good word for him, 'kay? Kinzy and Brieana both think your stepbrother is like, a dreamboat, or whatever. Actually, I think Rowen does, too. So…crazy story…Kinzy swears there's a picture of you and your stepbrother, uh, k-kissing. Those celebrity websites can't be trusted, right?" Raj laughed to himself and I snickered, too. Ciaran merely rolled his eyes at me, but I could tell he was nervous as the voicemail continued. "Anyway, call me back and maybe we can discuss our AP scores and get ourselves ready for early admission. July is going to be here before you know it."

I paused the voicemail. "Does Raj even know how to breathe?"

"No making fun of my best friend," Ciaran grumbled.

Pressing play, we heard Raj's voicemail continue. "I've already written my essay four times, Ciaran. I need a second set of eyes on them to tell me which one is best. Out of all of us, you're the best writer. I'll email them to you, 'kay? Oh, how goes the novel? Any more progress on Badger Detective First Class Shiremarch's case? My mom can't wait to read it. She's rooting for a high body count."

This time Ciaran jammed his thumb on the Pause button. "It's a casino heist, not a murder mystery," he informed the phone like it would transcribe a message back to Raj.

"Did you want to text him that?" I asked with a smirk.

Ciaran rolled his eyes. "Just press play, you dork."

Raj's rambling voice sounded again. "About the essays… Like, read them when you can but maybe before tomorrow night, please. Not sure if my nerves can withstand a longer wait. You know me." Raj let out another impossibly high-pitched laugh. "But yeah, about kissing your stepbrother, uh…"

"So that's why he's calling," I guessed after pausing it again. "Raj has zero chill."

"Matty!" Ciaran tried to grab the phone from me, tackling me to the bed in the process. It reminded me of that time he did the same thing on the night of our parent's wedding celebration. I stole a kiss from him now, which was something I couldn't do back then. Ciaran melted on top of me. I loved his weight against me. "No, Raj doesn't know the meaning of chill. He tends to go off on tangents. Let him finish."

"Sure thing, babe," I said as my free hand snaked down his body to cup his ass.

"Dirty old man," Ciaran purred into my neck.

"Damn straight. By three whole years." I pressed play.

Raj's voice filled the room again. "I mean, Kinzy showed me the photo. Showed all of us. It was kinda grainy, like those paparazzi photos usually are. Like, was that you? We zoomed in all the way until it was blurry pixels, which, you know, isn't helpful. Oh my God, I'm just realizing how all this sounds. It's no big deal if it was you! Like, we're not ragging on you, Ciaran. Your stepbrother is objectively hot, and I say that as a straight guy. But, doesn't he have a girlfriend? The blond woman from the other photos? Oh man, you've got blond hair, too. Your stepbrother must have a type. Just be careful, my friend, 'kay? My mom says rich boys are a different species." Raj sighed into the phone. "We miss you like crazy. Call me back so we can talk about Mr. Jones, your hottie stepbrother, oh, and the AP test scores. And the essays. Don't forget the essays. I'm sending them now. Okay, bye. But seriously, call me back, Ciaran!"

"I'm not sure, but I think he's going to send you his essays," I quipped.

"Matty—"

"And all your friends think I'm super hot. I'm the hottie stepbrother."

"Can you please?—"

I added, "And it seems like Mr. Jones left in a hurry. Dante texted me, too. Apparently the heat was too much for Andy, so he's on his way to Australia to hide out."

"Well," Ciaran said, now serious, "good riddance. Maybe he'll get bitten by a poisonous spider."

We let that satisfying thought hang in the air for a moment.

"Your friends love and miss you," I said. "I can't wait to meet them."

"Really?" Ciaran lifted his head to peer down at me.

"Really." I moved a curly blond lock of hair off his forehead. Raj was right, I did have a type…a certain tall blond guy who made me do crazy things, like dare him to be around me. "Your friends are welcome anytime. It's your home, too." Ciaran lay back down and nestled against me. "They should come for the summer, or for however long their parents will let them stay. We'll surf and throw bonfire parties."

"And you'll let Rowen drive your Ferrari?"

"That's a hard no," I said with a chuckle.

Ciaran talked a bit more about his friends. "I've known Raj my entire life. He's really smart but doesn't actually believe it. If he doesn't get into MIT, I'll eat my laptop. Kinzy's a big reader and a huge fan of celebrity gossip. She'll ask you a dozen questions about your Hollywood connections, so be prepared. Brieana's the quiet one of the bunch, but the second she opens her mouth to sing, she can bring down the entire house. She's that talented. Plus, she's like this poker shark. She's been a big help to me as I plot my fictional casino heist. And Rowen?—"

"Your ex-boyfriend?" I interjected. I wasn't exactly jealous, but I still wanted to make sure there weren't lingering feelings between them.

"For like five minutes when we were freshmen," Ciaran said, while also tsking at me. "Nothing serious and nothing to worry about." When I didn't say anything, he continued. "He's big into his YouTube channel. He reviews video games and music—he's a drummer—but he's also a car fanatic. He'll totally ask you to let him film the car so he can talk it up on his channel."

"I'd be okay with that. And you're the writer of the group? How would your friends describe you?"

Ciaran seemed to give that some thought. "Well, a month ago, they would have described me as a poor, stressed-out kid with dreams of writing a novel and getting into his dream college who instead ran a deli with his overworked mom. I was essentially a bouncer who growled at all the men who came in to hit on her."

"Theresa is a beautiful woman."

"It was a full-time job, is what it was," Ciaran informed me with a disgruntled sigh. "That said, I'm glad she met Stefon. My mom was meant to have this kind of life." He was quiet a long moment before he added. "Last night, Mom suggested I start seeing a therapist. You know, to untangle everything."

"That's probably smart," I voiced. "Do you plan tell her you're going to reject Stefon's college stunt?"

"I will, and I know Mom did that because she loves me and didn't realize it undermined everything I stood for. I'll apply like everyone else."

"By agonizing over your SATs, GPA, and essay?"

"Exactly," he said with a chuckle.

"So, how would you describe yourself now ?"

Ciaran picked at the athletic tape on my shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Earlier, you described yourself from a month ago, which I've dubbed your pre-Matthias era. What about now?"

Ciaran laughed. "The biggest changes are I stumbled into undeserved wealth and I lost my virginity." He wiggled his hips to illustrate his point. "I can still feel the proof of the other night."

"You're welcome, by the way."

Ciaran pinched me. "Possessive brute!"

"True, but you love me anyway," I countered, and he bit my shoulder. "Now who's a possessive brute?" Ciaran merely grunted, which I wasn't mad about. "Anyway," I said, bringing us back to the topic at hand. "You described your changing circumstances, not you ."

"It's tough to describe because it's all internal, you know?"

"Try."

"Okay, I'll try. I'm still a writer and I still want to get into my dream college due to my own merit and not because of the Vaulteneau wealth. A month ago I was a confused kid who sought out the wrong kind of love and affection. I felt guilty about it and still do, to an extent. There are moments when I don't think I'm deserving of love, but it's nowhere near where it used to be. I think the biggest change is that I'm learning to love and accept myself, which means I'm capable of loving others."

"Like me?"

"Who?"

I growled and rolled on top of him. "I won't get up until you confess how much you love me."

"Or what?" Ciaran said with a wicked grin. His legs parted for me. He wasn't fully erect, but when his hardening length twitched next to mine, I let out a groan. "Will Prince Matty's manservant march up here to whip me?"

"Yes," I said before capturing his lips for a long kiss. Ciaran's arms wound around me, pulling me tight, his fingernails digging into my lower back, which was now becoming a habit. "But not today. Manservants around the world always get today off."

"So it's up to you to extract this love confession out of me, huh? How do you plan to do that, Matty?"

Ciaran arched up into me. The fabric between us caused the right amount of friction to jump-start my erection. Sparks of pleasure raced up my spine, but I knew we couldn't lie in bed all day.

"Torture you, of course."

"Ah, so you're going to try to teach me how to surf again?" He laughed even as his stomach rumbled with hunger.

Smiling like an idiot, I gazed into Ciaran's cobalt-blue eyes and fell even deeper into love. How had I gotten so lucky? Yes, we each had work to do, and not everyone would be so understanding of our relationship, but as long as we were a unit, Ciaran and I could withstand almost anything the world threw our way.

"Yes," I said. "But first I dare you to let me feed you and kiss you and annoy the hell out of you by all the touching I plan to do."

"Well, in that case, there's no doubt I'll cave and tell you how much I love you."

"Way to spoil the ending," I joked.

Ciaran let out a bark of laughter even as the love he felt for me came through loud and clear.

I looked at my boyfriend the way my dad looked at his bride, like I was a besotted fool so deeply in love that I wanted the entire world to know about it.

I led Ciaran from the bedroom and did all the tortuous things I promised to do to him, and he did, indeed, tell me how much he loved me.