Page 30 of Love, Academically

Imbroglio (noun) im·bro·glio

An acutely painful or embarrassing situation

Rhys

Fuck.

He could not hug this woman anymore. Well, he could, and do a lot more with her, make her moan and whimper and scream his name.

That’s very patently what his body wanted and it was overriding his brain, because why on earth would he bury his face in the softness of her neck, or encourage her hips towards his, moulding her curves to his frame?

This was not a date. This was not a relationship.

This was a deal, a bargain. Two people helping each other. He had been her fake boyfriend for the ditchwater equivalent of a person (Jason), and she was here being his girlfriend for his family to show them how much of a success he was.

But it had become more than that. He hadn’t quite intended to bare his soul, just tell her the bare minimum so she could get by.

But no, his stupid mouth had other ideas because this woman in his arms made him feel so damned comfortable, so accepted, that it was easy to let all his tension and stresses go.

His emotions (and for that matter, his dick) hadn’t been this difficult to control since he was a teenager.

Rhys was glad when his uncle, Daffydd, interrupted when he did because otherwise it would be painfully obvious to everyone exactly where all the blood in his body was heading, especially in these stupid trousers.

He really needed to measure himself and update the website. Perhaps Lila would help? No, that was not the thing to be thinking about right now.

“Get a room you two” came a loud and rather slurred voice from over Rhys’s shoulder and he quickly disentangled himself from Lila.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he said. Whether he was apologising for nearly mauling her, or for whatever was going to come out of Uncle Daff’s mouth now, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Daffydd, nice to see you,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Rydyn ni’n deulu, we’re family, Rhys!” Daff batted away his arm and pulled him in for a sloppy, swaying hug. Pulling away, his uncle went to hug Lila, but Rhys put a hand on his chest.

“No, Daff,” he said with a smile. “No hugging my girlfriend.” It slipped out of his mouth so easily.

It wasn’t that Daff was handsy or whatever, but Lila hadn’t even said hello and this epitome of the ‘Drunk Uncle’ wanted a hug? Nope.

“Of course, and you’re Saesneg, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” she said with a smile.

Rhys was getting used to deciphering the many nuances of Lila’s smiles and this one was indulgent and amused.

If it was strained and wary, then he would have turned her right around out of that situation and taken her home to her comfortable sofa, her myriad of blankets and whichever insipid old romance she wanted to watch.

“Ah well, cariad, you two make a lovely couple,” Daffyd said, sloshing amber liquid around his glass. He was decidedly worse for wear, his eyes not quite pointing in the same direction, his bow tie crumpled and his face ruddy, but he was happy and smiling.

Daffydd had aways been his favourite uncle.

It was Daff who Rhys called when he missed the last train home from nights out in Cardiff.

It was Daff who made sure he had a much more in-depth sex talk than the perfunctory one his dad gave him.

Daffydd was the one he called, overwhelmed with emotions, when he didn’t want to work at Dallimores anymore and wanted to be a historian.

“What you should do, my boy,” Daff said, his pointing finger swaying slightly, “is give your beautiful girlfriend a kiss.”

Daff knowingly winked at Lila, a ridiculous, over-exaggerated wink that Betty Boop would have been jealous of.

“Daff,” he warned.

“What?” Daffydd shrugged, mock hurt. “I’m just saying, ‘young love’.”

Yes, air quotes from his pisshead of an uncle.

“Daff, I’m not going to—” he started, but Lila interrupted.

“Oh, Rhys,” she admonished, with a swat on his arm. Then, turning to Daffydd, “He’s so shy.”

Grabbing both his lapels, Lila turned her face up to his and tugged him down towards her.

The softness of her lips pressed against his and she leaned into him.

His hands snaked around her hips, pressing her harder to him.

It was chaste and hot, and Lila’s hands flattened against his chest, aligning herself to him just right,

“All right now, you two! Break it up!” Daff crowed.

Lila pulled back, blinking, but he wasn’t ready to stop, and greedily pressed his lips to hers again for another fleeting kiss.

She looked up at him, her big ocean eyes unsure and confused. That was a look that he would have to decipher later because Daff was laughing loudly and slapping him on the back. She wet her lips, as if seeing if she could still taste him and fuck, that was hot.

“Happy now?” He turned to his uncle, but pulled Lila tightly to his side.

“Yes, I am,” Daff took a large gulp of his drink. “Seriously though, my boy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so happy.”

Smiling, Daff squeezed his shoulder.

“You seem to be very content in your job and you’ve got this wonderful girlfriend who obviously adores you.”

Lila rested one hand on his lower back and the other on his chest, folding herself around him.

His breath caught. As he glanced down at her to check she was all right (because Daff was being way too much, as he always was), she smiled up at him warmly.

A smile that said she was fine, she didn’t mind, before turning back to Daffydd.

“Well done, my boy. I’m proud of you,” he said, eyes warm and wistful. He shook his head lightly and looked at his drink. “Oops, glass is empty! Wela’i di wedyn.” See you later.

Daff sauntered off, presumably to the bar to replenish.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Rhys,” she said, pressing her hand to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have, I didn’t mean to…” she trailed off.

He frowned at her. What had he missed?

“Shouldn’t have what?”

Lila stared up at him with wide eyes, as if the police had come in and arrested everyone and he was blissfully unaware.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” she whispered, her cheeks the most beautiful shade of fuchsia.

Rhys grinned, remembering the way she wet her lips to taste him again.

“You never need to apologise for kissing me.”

Lila eyes widened and a long breath escaped her lips. She swallowed, and took a small step back. Rhys’s hand dropped from her waist. This was a show, a pretence, and he didn’t need to be pawing her every second. He played with his shirt cuffs for something to do.

“Do you think we were convincing?” she asked.

Fuck yes. He more than thought so, he knew so.

“I think so.” He nodded.

“He’s really nice,” Lila said, gesturing towards Daff.

“Yeah, he is.”

Rhys took in the room, the relentless networking and handshaking his family did.

They were all the same; always looking for the next opportunity, uncaring about who they stepped on to get higher up their greasy little ladder.

He loved Elin, but there she was with their father and Rhydian, probably throwing Madoc under the bus, whilst Madoc scowled from the other side of the room, talking with a new COO of some division or other.

Daffydd’s business circles were smaller, having decided early on that he would be a more silent partner in the brothers’ business.

That wasn’t to say that his division of Dallimore International, Dallimore Shipping, wasn’t successful.

Daffydd was extremely good at reading people and had hired a very capable CEO and management team.

“He’s the best one. I love him.”

“Never married? No kids?” Lila shifted on her heels.

“No, never married. No children.”

Rhys took a breath. Daffydd’s wasn’t his story to tell, but it felt so good to be able to talk about his family.

He’d spent so long keeping it all bottled up inside, afraid that people would find out who he was and judge him, only want him for his money, that he didn’t realise how much of a relief it would be to finally talk to someone.

“He’s gay,” Rhys blurted out. “He told me when he was drunk once. I tried to bring it up again, but he didn’t want to speak about it. I don’t think he’s ever told my dad and my other uncle. I think that’s why he drinks so much.”

“That’s why he’s so keen on you living your own life.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” He had never connected the two before.

“That’s really sad,” Lila said, with an uncharacteristic crease in between her eyebrows. “Your uncle living his life in hiding, not thinking he’ll be accepted for who he is.”

Rhys nodded slowly.

It was a different generation. A hard generation with remnants of mining and striking in the South Welsh valleys. The Aubrey-Dallimores were nothing if not traditional, and Daffydd didn’t quite fit the traditional mould.

“Do you think your father knows?”

Rhys considered how his father would react to the news his brother was gay. The hope was that he would nod and say ‘all right, when can I meet your partner?’ because Uncle Daff’s sexuality really was a non-issue.

“I think he does, if he thought about it hard enough. But I don’t think he will ever want to do that.”

“Poor Daffydd.”

Yes, poor Daffydd.

Lila

Lila reapplied her pink lipstick in the bathroom mirror, thankful that her excruciating blush had finally died down.

Grabbing Rhys by the lapels and kissing him had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now?

In the cold fluorescent lights of the ladies toilet?

Not so much. They hadn’t ever discussed kissing or anything like that.

She’d taken matters into her own hands and just run with it.

But with closed lips. Not even the hint of tongue.

That fact alone saved her embarrassment ever so slightly.

But…

Rhys had kissed her again. Rhys had leaned forward and put his lips on hers. He had instigated it, it wasn’t just her. He’d also looked genuinely wicked when she’d apologised.

You never need to apologise for kissing me.

Even just the memory of his intense eyes, solely on her, made her hot and needy.