Finding North (6 page)

“I know.” He sighs. “I’m an arsehole.”

“You think?”

He leans back on the bed, arms folded behind his head, ankles crossed one over the other. He’s the picture of ease, but his gaze suggests everything but. North is like a dog with a bone, and this time I’m the one caught between his razor-sharp teeth. “I know you didn’t sleep with her, because the second you broke it off she came to me. Why do you think she did that?”

“Because she knew you were a manwhore with no morals?”

“Well, I am that,” he says, reaching for the bong again. I willingly hand it over because I’ve had two cones already, and a couple of beers that we stole once North’s dad had passed out, and I am tanked. I’m also not comfortable with North’s line of questioning, so I stand and stumble around on the spot a bit, trying to get my stupid fucking legs to obey.

North looks up through his lashes. One hand is wrapped around the bong and the other holds the lighter, poised and ready to set fire to that little tuft of weed and drug himself into even more of a stupor. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going home,” I snap.

“You’re half-baked.”

“I’m fucking done, actually,” I say grinding my teeth.

Images of North and Jess play on a loop and in my mind I see it all—the way he would have taken her with rough hands and made her pale flesh come alive, his head buried between her legs, her delicate fingers gripping blond curls that I’ve longed to grasp for too many years to count; him moving in and out of her, slowly at first, and then once she’d moved past the pain, after they’d been together a handful of times, he’d have fucked the shit out of that girl and relished every moan that ripped from her mouth.

I know all of this because he told me. He always told me about his conquests. He never supplied names, and I never asked for them, and though it hurt to imagine him doing those things with any woman, there was never a face to go with those images. It was never my ex-girlfriend in the picture.

Did they talk about me afterward? Did he come inside her? Did he feel any remorse at all? Frustration, jealousy and rage twist in my gut as if he’d just plunged a knife right through me to the other side, and I yell. Or at least I make some sort of sound halfway between yelling and mumbling my disapproval. “You know, you’re a fucking shitty friend.”

“You didn’t fuck them, Will,” North says quietly, and for a brief second I think I see a hint of that remorse I want him to feel so badly, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. “Maddi and Kate were crazy bitches, so I don’t blame you for cutting your losses, but Jess?” He shakes his head in disbelief and sets down the bong. “Jess was begging you to fuck her, and you broke up with her instead.”

“Good thing too, because clearly she wasn’t that interested in me,” I say through my teeth.

“You know any other guy would be across the room, beating my face in right now,” North says. “You just don’t seem that upset.”

I don’t
? That’s news to me because I fucking feel all of it. I feel betrayed, and I’m heartbroken. Not over Jess. I can’t really blame her. I’m jealous of her; that’s where all of my anger stems from, that she’s been with North and I can’t ever have that. That is never going to be an option for me.

“Fuck you.”

“Is that what you want?” North challenges. I glare at him. I can’t move. My feet are frozen in place and my stomach threatens to spill the contents of the three-day-old pizza we found earlier in the fridge.

“What the fuck? No!” I say, because I don’t know what else to do. Fear slides down my spine, kicking my fight-or-flight mode into overdrive, but all I can do is stand there as North gets up and takes a step towards me, eliminating the distance between us.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice sounding panicked.

“Relax,” he says, cupping the side of my face. “I’m just trying something.”

“Fuck off, North.” I push his hands, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he leans in and runs his tongue along my lower lip. I hold perfectly still, too afraid to breathe. If he’s fucking with me then I’m screwed because I am growing as hard as fucking cement right now, and all I want is to plunge my tongue in his mouth and kiss him, but I can’t.

I can’t trust this. I can’t trust him.

My best friend is kind of a dick. It’s why we get on so well. He’s also a practical joker, and I never know up from down with him. It’s what I like about him, but in this moment? I hate him for mocking me. I hate him for giving me a taste because I’m sure that with his next breath he’ll rip it all away. He’ll shove me and tell me he was just kidding, and that I should see my face because I look like I’ve just shat my pants.

“Relax, Will,” he says, smoothing my cheek with his thumb. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like?”

I swallow hard, and close my eyes. If only he knew. If only he had some idea of how long I’ve wanted this.

No
.

I shove my hands against his chest. He stumbles back and catches himself before he can lose his footing. I take a step towards the door and find myself thrust up against it. North clutches my arm, and twists it painfully behind my back.

“I know what you want, Will, and I know it isn’t pussy. It’s cock,” he whispers the last in my ear, sending a shudder down my spine.

I shake my head and whimper, “No.”

“Yes.” His hot breath on my neck sends all my senses into overdrive, making me fucking crazy. I grind my erection against the door and moan, desperate to relieve the ache. “Let me do this, and you’ll know for sure.”

“Know what?” I hiss, struggling. He grasps the nape of my neck and holds me in place, my cheek firmly pressed against the wood.

“You’ll know if that’s what you are.” North buries his face in my neck and licks the salt from my skin. “And you can finally stop torturing yourself.”

I
don’t know what I expected walking into the bar tonight. I deliberately left it late, even though I thought I’d go in-fucking-sane having to sit on the couch and watch reality TV with Tammy. My leg wouldn’t stop bouncing. I couldn’t stop checking the time, or my phone for any new texts. Not that I’d expect Will to still have my number after all these years.

I haven’t been this fucking nervous since the night I fucked him in my bedroom. All day at work I couldn’t help but think about his lips on mine, and the way we’d fit together last night, the same as we always had. After twelve long years, my body remembered him—the feel, the taste, and the way he liked to be taken completely by my mouth. Our bodies remembered; it was muscle memory.

I didn’t blame him for telling me no. In a way I’m glad he did, because if he hadn’t stopped it and Victoria and her friends had shown up, my day would have gone a lot differently. I would have spent it figuring out how I was supposed to meet my mortgage repayments after I’d handed in my resignation. The guys from the mill could never find out about this.

When I walk in, Will isn’t behind the bar. Instead, he’s sitting at a table with an irritated glare on his face. Paperwork surrounds him. He doesn’t look up, which is just as well because the rowdy group of men at the bar all cheer as I walk in. There’s one who doesn’t greet me though. My father.

Fuck
.

I hadn’t counted on seeing dad tonight. From the looks of him he’s already three sheets to the wind, and he seems to have forgotten all about our little argument the other day, because when I wander over he thumps me on the back, and gestures to Sal for another beer. The rest of the guys welcome me with a round of cheers and handshakes, and then I’m plied with enough booze to drown a fucking horse.

Clearly, I’ll be walking home again tonight.
Unless I can convince a certain someone to let me have a sleepover for old times’ sake.

I glance over at the table once more, expecting to find him there, long fingers buried in his black hair, tattoos peeking out from the hem of his sleeve, and his brow furrowed in frustration—Will always hated paperwork—but the table is empty. Save for our group, the bar is dead, and Sal is calling last drinks.

The boys all grumble their complaints, though most of them are too shitfaced to stand upright without falling over. Our numbers are pretty slim anyway; Dad piked already, Smithy went home to his wife like a good little lap dog, and there’s only Rooster, Tommo and Dan left. I glance around the bar, but can’t find Will anywhere.

“You looking for someone, kid?” Tommo asks.

“Nah,” I say, chugging the rest of my beer and slamming the glass down on the table. “Just trying to gauge how far I’m willing to go to drain the one-eyed trouser snake, you know?”

Not technically a lie
.

I slide off my stool and head to the men’s. When I push inside, Will is shaking it at the trough. He tucks himself inside his jeans and clears his throat. My gaze darts up to his face. He cocks a brow. “Something you want, North?”

“Yeah,” I hear myself saying. “Err … no. I’m ah … just coming to play.” I shake my head. “Pee.”

Fucking kill me now
.

“Needed to drain the dragon.”

The
dragon? Jesus Christ
.

I may be pretty damn proud of my cock—it is a very nice cock—but even I know it’s not worthy of the title I just bestowed upon it. Will chuckles.

Bastard
.

I let out a puff of air, and because I figure things can’t get much worse, I say, “Listen, about last night.”

“It never happened.” The smile melts from Will’s face as he turns to the sink and washes his hands.

“Yeah, well that’s the thing.” I run a hand over the back of my neck. “It did.”

He meets my gaze in the mirror. “Forget about it, North.”

“What if I can’t?”

Will inhales. It’s a short and impatient breath, and he glances at me from under his lashes. “Then I’d tell you it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry I was a dick,” I blurt out, as he walks to the door. “I hurt you.”

Will pauses with his hand on the knob. He shakes his head, and just when I think he’s not going to say anything more, he turns the full weight of his anger on me. “You didn’t hurt me; you destroyed me. You cut me off completely. I was … I was in love with you, and you treated me like shit.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“And yet you did,” he says, pointedly. “You had years to rectify that shit, and now you want back in? I can’t do it again, North.”

“So what? You’re just gonna be alone for the rest of your life?”

“And how exactly would you change that? You gonna man up and come out of that fucking closet you buried yourself in? You gonna be my life partner, North? Make sure I’m not lonely? Tell the whole town that bigotry and hate and the emotional abuse doesn’t matter, because love is love?”

My face falls.
What am I doing here
? I can’t go down this path with him again. I may no longer be a scared little kid, but nothing has changed. In twelve fucking years, not a single thing has changed—not the way he makes me feel, not the way the town ridicules and demoralises anyone who might be different, and not the fact that I’m still just as much a coward now as I was back then.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Will says, and without another word, he leaves.