Chapter 16

I release Darcy's hand and hold out mine for him to place his other one in my palm. He does and I bend over it, running the brush over his nails. Applying nail polish is a bit like painting glosswork; both require a steady hand. We're getting ready to go out and I'm excited for him to meet my other friends. I offered to paint his nails, and he readily agreed, choosing a green that complements his eyes. Those beautiful eyes, which, when I glance up, are framed by a creased brow.

"What's bothering you?" I return to my task and hear him sigh.

"What if your friends don't like me?"

"They'll like you," I state simply, and give him a smile.

"How can you know that?"

"Because they're my friends and I know them," I reply. But I know Darcy well enough to know that this isn't the real question. He sighs again. I wait him out. He'll tell me what's really bothering him when he's ready. He doesn't keep me waiting long.

"I don't know how to act around them." I let go of his hand and he places it on his knee while I screw the top on the bottle and face him. We're sitting cross-legged on his bed, facing each other. I consider his statement for a moment. I can understand where his thoughts stem from. Darcy has a naturally serious disposition and has been taught from a young age to be on a stage, performing. He rarely gets to just be himself. I feel privileged that I see that side of him. The natural Darcy, who is so smart and funny. But I also know that I can cut through that worry and encourage him to not take himself quite so seriously.

"I wasn't going to tell you this yet, but I think the time might be right."

"What weren't you going to tell me?" His voice is an excited whisper.

I reach for the silver glitter nail polish, and drop my head to attend to my own nails so he can't see my face. There's no chance I would be able to keep a straight face.

"About the code."

"The code?" He gives the word reverence and I almost feel guilty—almost.

"Yes, we all have a code we have to abide by."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, if we break it we're excommunicated. Cast out from the gay community." I give him a quick glance as I swap hands. It's hard not to smirk at his glittering, wide eyes, waiting for me to drop my wisdom.

"First of all." I pause slightly and feel him lean in a little closer. "You have to wear pink, somewhere on your person, at all times."

When I finish my nails and cap the bottle, I risk a little glance, and see him biting his lip, his face creased into an adorable frown as he digests what I've said.

"Then, you must always refer to yourself in the third person."

I put the bottle down and look at him as the line above his eyes deepens.

"But you don't?—"

"And you must call everyone ‘Duckie.'" I can't resist a smirk, and watch as he fully realises that I'm pulling his leg.

"Oh, Nick!" he exclaims, and starts to launch himself at me, but I hold up a hand.

"Don't smudge your nails. They won't have dried enough yet."

He settles himself back down again and glowers at me, but I can see it's not in earnest.

"That wasn't fair." He pouts, which is very cute, but something I won't tell him as he could easily weaponise it against me.

"Darcy, I understand you're worried, but you have no need to be. You just need to be yourself—your beautiful, amazing self." I lean forward and press a brief kiss to his lips, receiving a small smile in the process.

"I am worried about other things though," he says, and the sadness I hear at the edges of his words is not something I'm going to make light of this time. He has my full attention.

"What things?"

"Will people view me differently? Will I lose friends? Clients?"

I take his hands and hold them between us, because I'm not going to sugarcoat this bit for him, and want to feel connected to him as I say it.

"Yes, to all of those things, D."

He looks at me sharply as if he expected me to tell him everything's going to be alright. But these are not my friends we're talking about; this is everyone else. I give his hands a gentle squeeze and continue.

"Yes, people will view you differently. You've changed their perception of you. That isn't the important part, though. What is important is what they do next. It shouldn't make a difference to them, considering it's none of their business, but sadly, the world is full of people who can't accept others just being who they want to be. So yes, you may lose friends and you may lose clients. But if that happens, D, then they are not worthy of your friendship and surely you don't need their business."

I stop speaking and watch him swallow, taking in what I've said. He closes his eyes and nods, exhaling a deep breath.

"And." I squeeze his hands again. "You have me, every step of the way, side by side."

He opens his eyes, and whilst I can't see his usual brightness in them, they're no longer tinged with melancholy.

"Thank you," he says, and this time I receive a kiss. I want to deepen it and am delighted when he opens in answer to my request to explore with my tongue. I put all the feeling I can into the kiss, to tell him it will be alright, we can do this together.

I don't want it to end, but we are definitely going out, so I pull back, and this time his eyes are sparkling and his smile is back.

"So, makeup or not?" I ask, as in my opinion you can never be too underdressed or overly made-up for Brazen.

I apply my usual eyeliner, a little colour, and glitter. Darcy opts for some eyeliner, which sets his eyes off so beautifully that I find it hard to look at him; his beauty catches my breath. I try to avoid staring at him, knowing that if I look too much there'll be no option of going out tonight and that even if his parents are in the house, I'll find a way to finally make him mine.

As we walk up to the entrance to Brazen, I catch Darcy's hand and lace our fingers together. I tell myself that it's easy to get separated in the busy club, and that I also want to give him some reassurance, but that's only part of the truth. I'm suddenly feeling very possessive and I want to send out a clear message that he's with me. As the door opens to let us in, the heat and the noise hit us like a wall. It can be startling if you're not used to it. Darcy grips my hand and I pull him with me into the melee. I wend my way through the throng and over to our usual corner. I've told Riley and Kieran about Darcy before. Not too much information, but I let them know he was coming with me tonight. I stand back and watch as Darcy takes in the size of Riley, who stands over six feet tall and is pure muscle. He also has an impressive beard that helps give him his bearlike appearance. But he is one of the kindest and gentlest guys I've ever met, and I know he and Darcy are going to get along really well. Kieran, by contrast, is almost a foot shorter and a ball of energy. He does his customary launch at me and I let him hug me, still keeping hold of Darcy's hand. I introduce them and he hurls himself at Darcy. I check if he's alright and receive a beaming grin in return. I don't think he was expecting such an exuberant welcome.

Once Kieran has released him and is back standing under Riley's arm, placed protectively round him, they ask Darcy a few questions. His grip on my hand eases and I sense him relax. I'm pleased they're getting on really well, and after a few more minutes, I let him go and take one of the drinks Riley has bought. A song starts and Kieran screams, grabbing Darcy by the hand and dragging him to the dance floor. I catch Riley's amused look as we both follow them.

We spend the next few hours dancing and it's good to watch Darcy enjoy himself, not having to worry about poise and position. He has an instinctive ability to avoid anyone else on the dance floor, born from years of competitive dancing. In the mass of people, I relish the chance to hold him close, grinding my body against him, feeling him go with the moment and grind back.

After the club closes and we all walk to catch a late tram, Riley extends his invitation to head out to the Slippery Stones, suggesting the bank holiday on Monday. With that agreed, Darcy and I board the tram that takes us close enough to his house, then I'll walk the rest of the way home.

"How was it?" I ask, as he's a bit silent. "I told you my friends would love you."

"They're great. Thanks for bringing me. I had the best time."

"What's up then?" He's slipped into his serious mode. I reach for his hand and pull it into my lap, holding it between my palms.

"I'm not sure how to tell Mum and Dad."

"About us?" I guess that this is his current worry. His sigh is all the confirmation I need.

"Claire knows, right?" He nods his affirmation.

"Then no doubt she'll have told them by now." That gets a low chuckle-snort; he knows it's true.

"And I don't think there'll be any problems," I continue, turning enough so he can see me wink as I place my hand on my chest. "Because I know for a fact that your dad adores me."

He laughs and bumps his shoulder into me. I bump him back, pleased to have him smiling again.