Decadent (3 page)

Lachlan walked into the bar and sat himself on a stool, letting his school bag drop to the floor. The place was relatively quiet, even though Matteo served food during the afternoon. A couple were at a booth in the corner, with two old guys having lunch at another. Only one other customer sat at the bar around the corner from where he sat.

“Lachlan, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?” Matteo wondered with a curious frown as he checked his watch.

“I am skiving, Matteo. For the first day in my life I am skipping school,” he announced to his boss, straight backed, ready to forget all his troubles. Matteo laughed at him. “I have never had even a sip of alcohol in my life…so where do I start?” Lachlan asked, since he planned on being there a while.

His boss frowned at him
, but looked to be considering the question. Before he could answer the figure two seats around the corner from him spoke up.

“Give him
a line of shots, Matteo. On me,” the man offered, tipping his bottle of beer in his direction.

Lachlan nodded his thanks; that was generous but unnecessary.
“Thank you. But I'm living dangerously, so the drinks are on me,” he replied, reaching into his bag to remove his wallet. He counted out fifty bucks and lay the bills on the bar for Matteo.

“Who am I to refuse such generosity?” His companion chuckled from his seat.

“Exactly. Because I plan on getting wasted. If you disapprove, stay where you are. If not, then come on and join in.” Lachlan decided to be a little reckless, waving his companion across as Matteo shook his head at him and took his money. He had won that argument then.

“Don't mind if I do.” The man moved over from his seat and planted himself right next to him, so he held his hand out.

“Lachlan Meran,” he introduced himself.

The man raised an eyebrow at his offered hand
, but took it, giving a firm, decisive shake before smiling into his next sip of beer. “Cormag Brody,” he said. He nodded hello and slipped off his jacket, dumping it down to sit on top of his bag. “So, what's a good-looking kid like you doing in a bar at this time of day? Not a touch of alcohol and now you're getting wasted? I'm guessing it's love related.” Cormag spoke as Matteo lined up a dozen shots in front of them. His new companion picked one up, saluted him with it and downed it in one.

“
Right,” Lachlan agreed, feeling stupid for acting so out of sorts. But at the same time, having someone to drink with made him feel better and relax a little. He picked up the second shot in the line and copied Cormag by downing it in one go. He grimaced at the taste and almost choked on it, but he tried to man up and pretend it wasn't bothering him. “You see, I was going to tell my girlfriend that I loved her yesterday and instead I found out she was cheating on me,” he explained, trying to distract himself from the awful taste in his mouth.

Cormag winced and shook his head as if unhappy about something. “Ouch. So your plan is to get revenge
by getting out of your head?” he guessed.

Lachlan picked up a second shot and threw it back, making a face before answering his question.

“Nope. My plan is to finally listen to the nagging best bud who has always been a bad influence. I am drowning my feelings with alcohol,” he announced, raising a third glass to Cormag before he'd even had his second. He was going way too fast for a guy who had never had a drink before, but he was hoping that meant he would get drunk and forget his crappy day quicker. His drinking buddy disappointed him, reaching out and catching his hand to gently lower the glass back to the bar.

“So this friend of yours didn't tell you that alcohol can intensify your feelings?” he asked with sympathetic eyes.

For a minute Lachlan stared at his next drink with a frown. Konnor hadn't told him that part. But if he was honest he couldn't handle being sober any longer, so he looked up at his new drinking partner and found tears welling up in his eyes. It couldn't get much worse, so either the alcohol would fix him or it would make him crack. Either way it would be done.

“Oh boy. You really are in deep, huh? And with a girl.” Cormag sighed, reaching up to brush a tender fingertip across his forehead, brushing aside his windswept hair. “Such a waste. But, if you want to get drunk…go ahead. Down the hatch.” He raised a glass and smiled for emphasis.

Lachlan managed to smile and wipe away his tears. He raised a glass in return and they downed the contents in unison. “Down the hatch!” he agreed.

Lachlan nearly fell off his chair laughing. Cormag was hilarious and it wasn't because he was hammered. “No way. There is not a chance in hell that Dracula is gay.” He laughed, as he leaned his elbow on the bar and rested his head on his hand.

“I'm telling you. If you read it you'll see for yourself. There are multiple times in that book where the things he says and does in regard to Jonathan come across as extremely over-protective and romantic,” Cormag said, tapping the bar as he sat side on in his seat, facing him. “At the least there is a serious bromance going on,” he insisted.

“Well, I wouldn't know. I've never been abl
e to get past the first chapter,” he confessed, never having liked the long-windedness of the 'classic' novel. Apparently his new drinking pal read it every year. He could tell why; he came across as a real scholar, serious, organised, contained and easily pleased with a book and a drink by his side. That wasn't what he was right at that moment, however. He was a little bleary eyed and giddy on alcohol.

Lachlan watched those serious dark eyes evaluating him. They had a hint of a smile in them, a trace of humour and casual easiness
that comforted him. “Tell me,” he said, leaning forward until their faces were inches apart. “How many relationships have you had, exactly?” he asked, wanting to know if every break-up of his life would feel like this.

“A few. I've never been lucky in love,” Cormag leaned his forehead against his.

Lachlan leaned on him in return; it felt so good to be so close to someone without any expectations. He knew that nothing was being asked of him; nothing was assumed or demanded. He was simply sitting enjoying a drink with a guy who could easily fit into his life. Someone so like him, but so different as well, that it felt as if he'd always known him.

“I tend to choose the bad boys to fall madly in love with and I'm stupid enough to be
surprised when it doesn't work,” he explained, nudging his head up until he moved away and sat back in his seat.

“
I've only ever been with Orion,” he admitted the truth; she was his first girlfriend and his first break-up.

Cormag handed him another drink.
“She won't be the last person you ever date,” he promised.

“
No,” he agreed, a faint smile reaching his lips as he watched Cormag downing his drink. He turned back to Matteo and ordered two beers, to give them a break from the foul tasting vodka they'd been drinking. Sitting there, in profile, with a hint of humour in his eyes Cormag looked so happy that it made Lachlan do something stupid. He tugged his t-shirt until his new friend turned those soulful eyes on him and then he leaned in.

Lachlan frowned as he misjudged the distance and his forehead hit Cormag's head with a bump. He wrapped his arms around his neck to steady himself, two big hands reaching up to hold onto his arms as if to offer extra
support. “You,” he began, talking quietly into his ear, “are so beautiful,” he confessed, resting his heavy skull against Cormag's for a moment.

He meant it as well. Cormag was stunning. He was taller and broader than he was, very much the fine figure of hotness. His dark hair was well kept
, but a little messy, he had amazing bone structure; the type that made him look more like a model than a museum manager. A chiselled jaw, nicely defined cheekbones and a rugged quality that made him so appealing. He had never noticed how handsome a male face could be until those eyes drew him in.

“
And so are you,” his companion chuckled, “but we discussed this…I've ruined every relationship I've ever had. I get needy, possessive and my baggage gets in the way. Besides,” he lowered his voice to a whisper and brushed his hand over his upper arm, “You're not gay,” he protested, reminding him yet again that they were different.

“
Nope. Not gay,” he agreed with that, nodding his head as he pulled back a little to see him better. “But that doesn't make you any less beautiful. Why is it wrong that I can see how special you are?” he asked, having difficulty understanding why part of his brain was telling him he was being a drunken idiot and that the man before him wasn't attractive. But the rest of his brain – about ninety-eight percent of it – was telling him that he was the most attractive person he'd ever seen.

“It's not, Lachlan. It really isn't.”

“But it's somehow wrong for me to tell you?” Lachlan wondered, glancing across the bar to see Matteo smiling at him. He didn't know what it meant.

Cormag cupped his face, capturing his undivided attention again. “No. Not that either. But it makes it hard for me to keep my distance. You
're stunning. Inside and out,” he claimed, with chocolatey eyes that said he meant every word.

“How do you know?”

“Because you can't lie to me right now,” Cormag laughed and let his hand slide down to cup his neck.

He liked the warmth that radiated through his touch, that way his skin was a little calloused, from
working at the local Museum. Cormag was a hands on guy and he played some kind of sport; he couldn't remember which at the moment, but he knew he'd mentioned playing some kind of game.

“
Nope. No lies,” he agreed, glad to hear that. He was fed up of lies, liars and liars who lied. “So tell me Corr…Corm…” He frowned as the name tangled his tongue. “Tell me, what do you see when you look at me?” he asked, bypassing the difficult word.

“That's a loaded question. Are you positive you can handle the answer?” His new friend removed his touch entirely, containing himself to his own seat and lifting his bottle of beer to take a sip. He wasn't going to accept a pathetic cop out like that so he nodded; he was ready. “Your eyes are sad, because you've never been betrayed like this before. You don't know what to do or say, or how to handle how you feel. You're sad that you're not enough for her, but you're sad that you never saw it either. And a little part of you is
sad that you're attracted to me,” he said, with a look that said he truly believed it.

“No
I'm not. I'm not sad about that,” Lachlan objected. He didn't give a shit that he was attracted to him. He was an extremely handsome guy; it would be a crime not to notice.

“Yes you are. Because we're both in a terrible place right now and it's such bad timing.” Cormag brushed his thumb over his cheekbone, letting his touch drift to the side of his eye. He was being evaluated again, adored and kept at a distance.

“Don't care.”

“But I do.”

Lachlan frowned and pushed his hand away, getting mad at him. “Tosh. It's. Not. Fucking. Relevant,” he argued, turning away to fold his arms on the bar. He didn't want to look at him when he was acting like such a nice guy. He didn't want a nice guy right now, he wanted a drinking partner and fun.

“Yes it is, love.” Cormag put his hand on his back, gently rubbing his shoulder as if it would soothe him. It didn't. It was warm and sweet and something he shouldn't be doing if he thought he was embarrassed by his first crush on a guy.

“No! I don't care. I like you.” He shrugged his hand off and turned sad eyes on him. He didn't understand. “Why should that make me sad? Because I'm not gay. Who gives a rat's ass? You, Corr…Cormag…you would make the perfect girlfriend,” he insisted, managing to force out his full name around his twisted tongue.

“Thank you, I think?” His new friend laughed at him and took another drink.

“No,” Lachlan smiled at how that had come out. He didn't mean it that way. “You would make the perfect girlfriend
for me
,
if
you were a girl. Just because you're a boy doesn't change that. Except you make the perfect
boy
friend,” he tried again and was a little happier with the way his words came out.

“To a straight boy?”

He shook his head and thought about it for a second. “Maybe I'm not straight? Can I still be straight when I'm sitting here looking into your eyes?” he asked. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or maybe he wasn't as straight as he thought he was.

“Yes. Absolutely.” Cormag nodded and watched him closely.

“Even when I think they're so pretty? They are, you know. So many different shades of brown…and a little green. Just a touch; not a lot. So pretty.” He sighed happily, watching those dark eyes staring back at him in surprise. He lay his head on his arms, smiling at the way Cormag flushed in embarrassment and turned his full attention onto his bottle of beer.

“Wow, you are super drunk.”

“Don't change the pub…dub…” The word eluded him, but he knew how it started. He frowned as it continued to escape him.

“Subject?” Cormag offered, taking pity on him.

“That,” he agreed, pointing at him. “Don't do that. It's not fair.” He pouted on purpose and watched the way Cormag tried hard not to smile. He was a little surprised when he ducked in and gently kissed his cheek. Then he had the audacity to sit back and pretend he'd never done it.