Page 15 of Heart of the Wren
I HAD tossed and turned for most of the night. I kept thinking of Dara’s lips, of the way his shirt bunched over his belly, of his beefy arse in those faded and scruffy jeans he wore. I should have kissed him. We had been alone in my bedroom, tipsy and frisky. I should have kissed him. What if I didn’t get another chance?
My ruminations and regrets continued during my morning bath. Lying there with steam clouding the mirror and clinging to the tiles like dew, I tugged on my stiff mickey. Even after the battering I’dgiven it in bed late last night, it refused to lie down and give me some peace.
As the water drained, I the bath to remove any evidence of my activities, threw a towel around my waist, and met a shirtless Dara on the landing.
“I thought you were already out.” He held a bar of soap in one hand and a towel in the other. He wore only a pair of tight stripey boxer shorts which cut into his thighs, and a pair of bally woollen socks with one toe poking out through a hole. The tattoos on his forearms continued up his biceps and across his broad shoulders, onto his back. I spotted some familiar shapes, like the triple spiral and a Celtic knot, and some animals too. A stag with ivy wound around its antlers featured prominently on the expanse of his upper arm.
I tried not to look down too much as we sidled past each other .
He stopped at the door to the bathroom. “Lorcan. I wanted to…” His cheeks were flushed and he gripped the towel tightly. “Last night, when we got home, I thought there was something you were… Something you were trying to say to me? Maybe?”
My mouth dried up in an instant. My ears throbbed from inside and my legs wobbled. “I was… I wanted to…”
A thunderous knocking at the door prompted me to grab a vest from the landing radiator and pull it on while I rushed downstairs. I opened the front door to find Carol Dolan, tears streaming down her face. She held one of her elbows and ducked her chin into her shoulder.
My hands dropped to my side. “Not again.”
She couldn’t speak, only nodded.
I ushered her into the hallway and out of the cold air. “What is it this time?”
She wiped under her eyes. “He found out about me and Eddie.”
I growled through gritted teeth. “Found out what about you and Eddie?”
“We’re… Eddie and me are…” She sobbed and launched herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I sighed heavily. “It’s okay; you’re okay. We’ll sort it out.”
Dara tromped down a few steps. “Is everything alright? I heard crying…”
Carol lifted her head from my shoulder. “Lorcan, why is there a half-naked man on your stairs?”
???
After getting dressed, I led her into the living room. “Now, what’s going on with you and Eddie?”
Carol wore a crucifix on a chain around her neck. She slipped it into her mouth and chewed on it. “Daddy caught us kissing.”
“Just kissing?” I asked.
Carol avoided looking at me. “I’ll make some tea.” She bolted from the room like a hare from a trap before I could stop her.
“I’ll wring that boy’s neck if he’s been up to anything else with her,” I said.
“They’re young.” Dara had put on some clothes before coming back downstairs.
Personally, I would have preferred him to remain shirtless. His nipples were such a light shade of pink they blended almost seamlessly with the rest of his chest. I imagined how soft they were to touch, to kiss, to lick… I wondered if he enjoyed having them tweaked. Pat loved having his twisted and nibbled. It drove him wild and I enjoyed doing it for him. Though if he’d ever tried to reciprocate, I’d have probably run a mile. Mine were too sensitive for any rough stuff.
“I’m sure they get up to all sorts of things their parents don’t know about,” Dara said. “Didn’t you at their age?”
I crossed my arms. While I’d have been all too happy to get up to all sort of things, the most I’d done as a horny gay teenager living in secret was to steal the referee’s underwear after a hurling match I’d played in. I’d sniffed them and tugged myself silly in my bedroom, then felt so guilty I burned them in a bonfire with some rubbish from the farm.
“Who is she?”
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I forgot you hadn’t met. She’s my friend Bullseye’s youngest daughter. I’m her godfather. Hers and her eldest sister’s, actually.”
“I’ve never heard of anyone being godfather to two children.”
