I’m standing there, a blanket wrapped around me. It must be a bizarre sight. Ryan pulls me back onto his lap just as Danny comes into view.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask, noting the sorrow on his face.
But he doesn’t reply. He steers away from my question.
“Cuddling on the sofa? Christ,” he says with a huff. He looks at the TV screen and smirks. “Bet you don’t want me to tell you the score, Jen?”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I say. Ryan’s hand slips under the blanket, and he grazes my nipple with the pad of this thumb, his face plastered in a grin.
“I’m just going to use the bathroom.” I excuse myself into the bathroom and re-dress myself.
When I return, Danny is sitting beside Ryan on the sofa, watching the game.
“I’m off to bed, anyway,” I say, trying to give Ryan the hint. He gives me a nod, and I make my way into his room.
Ten minutes later, he still hasn’t come through, so I text him, but it remains unread. Frustrated, I poke my head out of the door, and I can hear muffled, low talking and what sounds like Danny pouring his heart out. Christ, poor Ryan must be getting the brunt of whatever that is.
Part of me wonders if I should go out and offer moral support. But it sounds like Ryan has got it under control.
Chapter 18
Ryan
Dannylookscompletelydejectedand wiped out. “What’s going on?” I ask.
Danny finishes reading a text on his phone, and now his eyes look full and watery.
“Ryan, mate, what a fucking nightmare tonight has been! Well, it’s been bubbling for a while, but tonight was the straw that broke the camel’s back,” he says, tossing his phone down on the sofa. “I need to tell you something.” He pauses, and I wait for him to continue.
I’ve never been good at talking about feelings, but the guy needs to get something off his chest right now; should I get Jen?
“I’ve been sleeping with Becca,” he says.
Should I feign shock? Tell him I already know? I sit there for a moment and decide it’s easier to let him keep talking, so I do a very British thing and offer him a cup of tea. He nods and sobs, so I get the kettle boiling, grabbing him a tissue while we wait.
This isn’t ideal; I should be in bed with Jen now, but what can I do? My phone vibrates in my pocket, but Danny’s attention is on me, so I ignore it.
After I’ve made his drink, I sit next to him and hand him the hot mug. He sips at it, tears still streaming. “She’s broken my heart, mate. I told myself I’d never fall in love but look at me.” I sit and listen to Danny’s story. He says it’s been off-and-on for two years now. He’s asked her a few times for them to go official, but she’s refused, saying she can’t commit to someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life and doesn’t know what she wants. Basically, it’s just been a case of booty calls and sneaking around. It’s hardly sneaking, though, because we’ve noticed it, and I’m pretty sure Becca’s red car is a huge giveaway when parked out back.
“I know what I want to do with my life. I told her, when I retire from hockey, I want to run my own gym.”
“Oh.”
“You know what she did, though? She literally laughed at me, mate,” he says.
I wouldn’t pin Danny as someone who would want to run his own gym, but I wouldn’t laugh at him. He goes on about Becca’s aspirations and how they align with his, but she doesn’t see it, and then it comes to tonight, where things really came to a head.
“Can you believe she went on a date? It was a mate of Bettsy’s,” he says. “Bettsy said to me that this mate of his was off out for drinks with someone. He wanted Bettsy to go along and sit in the corner, you know, in case his date was a munter or a bloke or whatever. Bettsy asked me to go for a drink with him, so he didn’t look like a creep sitting there on his own in the corner. Then who walks in?” I don’t need to guess. “That’s right, Becca. A tight dress, hair and makeup done to perfection, fair play; she looked mint, but it turns out she’s been on this dating app for months now. She and Jen have been swiping all over town. You know what happened then? She spots me and says, ‘Hey Danny, how’re things?’ as if I didn’t have her bent over in the equipment cupboard yesterday.”
“I’ll be sure to avoid that cupboard,” I say, thinking about all the times I’ve been in there recently.
“Made me look like a fucking idiot, mate. I just told Bettsy I had to go, and I got the hell out of there.”
“Have you spoken to Becca, then?” I ask. I bet that’s who he was texting.
“Sort of. I asked her what the fuck was going on, and she said that she was on a date, so I asked her why she was dating, and she said that what we were doing was ‘just a bit of fun’.”
He carries on for a while, reminiscing of times they’d snuck off and crept around.
