Choices Shape, Losses Break

by Nia Lucas

  The truth is, it's a really grotty run-down pub that gives limited shits about the age of its punters so with me in school uniform, it'll have to do. Chatting in the Escort on the way, the boys tell me about places they used to go when they lived at the kids’ home. Group trips to the seaside at Clacton and Southend, days spent running loose at Hackney Marshes and Mudchute, messing about jumping trains, stealing from arcades and annual ‘kids-home’ holidays at Butlin but none of it sounds particularly fondly remembered. The Escort is abandoned in a side road and we troop into the pub, the boys claiming a table near the open fire. I peel off my soggy coat and hang it to steam gentle from the heat as Shay delves into his pockets,

  “Little Red?”, Shay makes a drink mime

  “Hot chocolate please”’ I grin as he rolls his eyes.

  Lee sits, looking at the flames, his deep brown eyes flickering in the light, “Y'know, we had a boy in the kids home, he was a proper pyro. Never got why he liked torchin' shit but when you look at this, I sort of fuckin' get it”, Lee breaks his staring and looks at me, the intensity of his gaze making my knees wobble as I smile warily.

  We chat for an hour; general nonsense about school, teachers, their life in the flat together, clothes shopping in London, music and Nath's clubland credentials but when their impending departure is mentioned, we all go a bit quiet. I’m still astonished that I’m here, in the company of these amazing lads.

  Shay makes me jump as he blurts out, “Fuck this, Little Red, we ain’t waitin’ for tha’ club night, you gonna come see us at The Farm yeah?”, Shay’s staring at me, nodding encouragement.

  Lee smiles shyly, “Yeah Shortie, come see us”.

  Trying not to smile too widely from this inclusion, I shrug, “Er, I'd need to come up with something and speak to Rosa about maybe getting a lift. Maybe in a couple of weeks time...?”

  Shay looks a bit disappointed, “You ain’t comin’ sooner?”

  Taken aback by his eagerness, I stutter, “Er, well see I've got work on Saturdays and well, I, er, took time off for Mission. I dunno, I'll ask and see what my boss says. It depends on Rosa too”, I'm flustered.

  Without their own phone (“We got cut off, never paid the fuckin' bill”), it turns out that the boys conduct all their business through word of mouth from the corner shop near their flat (“Ahmed gives us our messages when we go in”) or calls from the local phone box. It's a wonder they can function in modern life frankly but they will call me and swear to only speak if it's Dan or me that answers. Sorted.

  As they drive us the short distance to my bus stop, my giddiness at being driven about by them is dampened with deflation at the prospect of their departure.

  Shay sighs and turns to me in the back seat, “Y'know wha’ Little Red, it'd be mint if we just stayed here, y'know, chat shit and kip in the car under Lee's gay fuckin' pink blanket ‘gain”, he squawks in protest as Lee punches his arm, making me laugh.

  Shay exits the car and Lee follows, fetching my bag from the boot and I look up at Shay in the gloomy evening light, “ Little Red, gonna miss you yeah”, I’m clasped in a bear hug, chancing a cheeky nuzzle as Shay holds me close.

  He leans down, pressing his lips to mine, whispering, “Fuck work Little Red, come see us”, and with a wink, he gets back in the car while I gawp in shock.

  Lee looms over me, his hands slipping to my waist as he holds my gaze, “Shortie, come stay, yeah?”, and with that, he leans in and gives me a gentle peck on my still-tingling before climbing into the passenger seat.

  I lean down into Shay's window, the rain now dripping off my hair making me look like a drowned rat, “Thanks for coming all this way, it’s been really good seeing you”, I feel a bit daft and blush.

  Shay starts the engine and grins cockily, “See ya soon Little Red”

  With that, Shay skids off down the road, beeping his horn furiously as he goes. I wave until they’re out of sight, my heart hurting. Just mates.

  Saturday 25th March 1995

  Bleary-eyed as I walk to the bus stop for work, a familiar figure walks towards me. Gill is the landlady of the town's biggest pub which is also a hotel. Her now grown up daughter used to be mine and Dan’s babysitter.

  I wave at Gill as she approaches, her smile of recognition warm and friendly, “Hello there Lorna, my goodness you’re grown up these days. How's things? School good?”, she stops and looks at me with genuine interest in my answer.

  I fill her in briefly and ask about her family and the dogs she used to keep.

  She smiles, “Y'know Lorna, My waitress has had to cut her hours and I’m looking for somebody on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday evenings. Would you be interested? You've got your exams but if you want the work, it's yours”, I’m already nodding because bollocks to my exams, my weekends would be free.

  I don’t hesitate, “Gill, when would you want me to start?”, the smile is hurting my cheeks, I try to lower the wattage.

  Upon my arrival at the cafe, I go straight to the office to hand my notice into my boss who I’m unconvinced actually knows my name even after eight months in his employ. The customers today are the usual young builders and hungover groups of lads but today, the banter and seedy flirting turns my stomach and I cut dead any sleazy chat ups. I realise that I want out of this place and the shameful memories of those shitty nights on dates with leering strangers whose advances had become a feature of my life here . It’s a mistake I need to leave behind.

  My final wages are over £100 and with tips, I spend the bus ride home at the end of the day chewing over the possibility of a weekend in London. I conclude that my answer lies with Rosa and as I hop off the bus at my stop, I go straight to her house, hoping to catch her. Nico opens the door in his muddy kit and instead of my heart sinking at the sight of him, our budding friendship leads me to smile warmly.

  He grins and points at my coffee-splattered uniform, “Well hello there Davies, you been having a glamorous Saturday too, eh?”

  I snort as I follow him into the house, “It's a rock and roll life we lead D’Angelo. Rosa in?”

  Nico shakes his head, “She'll be back from work in a bit, you wanna wait for her? Ma’s on her way and she's bringing the Priest for food. You wanna hide upstairs?”

  Panicked at the mention of the bloody Priest, I nod furiously and follow him up the stairs.

  Nico points to one of the doors on the landing, “I'm gonna jump in the shower, have a sit in my room Davies, it isn't a pit I promise, I'll only be a minute”, and he pushes open the door to his room, heading to the bathroom across the hall.

  I spend a few minutes absorbing the fact that I’m in Nico D'Angelo's bedroom. Walls predominantly covered in posters of bands, there is also a large amount of Spurs memorabilia and some girlie calendars of pouting blondes in uncomfortable looking underwear. Sitting on his bed, I’ve been noseying through one of his ‘Lads Mags’ for ten minutes when the door opens and the shock makes me jolt. Nico is topless, a pair of black tracksuit bottoms his only clothing and hot damn, Nico is fit.

  His black hair is tousled and damp, his earring gleaming from its recent wash and his cheeky smile is warm, “Eh Davies, you comfy there?”, he chuckles as he rummages through a drawer, grabbing a football shirt and putting it on.

  He sits on the bed next to me, one leg on the floor, “Lorna Davies is chilling out on my bed. Jeez, I wish I had a camera, no bastard will believe it cara”, he grins lecherously.

  I wallop him with the magazine, “Hey, I got a new job today D'Angelo and I will have no time for bed-sitting from now on, you are looking at the Three Horseshoes’ new waitress”. I mock bow.

  He laughs. “That's really cool Davies! Can you get me and the lads served then, behind the bar?”, he winks

  Snorting, I roll my eyes, “In your dreams Nico, it'll be nothing but chips that you can get from me. Hey, how was training?”, I start flicking through the magazine again.

  He mumbles, “Yeah, good. I gotta up my game now though, it's intense movin
g up to Under 18’s, they pretty much think I'm a prick”, he looks a bit glum, fiddling with his duvet cover.

  I put the magazine down and reach out to pat his hand, “Ah, D'Angelo, we all start off thinking that. But you grow on a people, give them time”, I wink as he grins.

  We sit and chat for ages until Nico smirks, “They didn't need any strippers then, at the pub? Coz, y'know, you could serve chips AND flash your tits”, he yelps as I thump him with the magazine repeatedly.

  He grabs my flailing hands with a shout of indignation, both of us laughing as he tries to restrain me, the motion of which pulls him very close. He’s leaning over me as he falls more deeply onto the bed, chuckling. Both panting a bit, we stare at each other until Nico starts to lean forward, the soft puffs of his panting breaths moving the strands of hair that have escaped my ponytail. I’m so stunned by the sudden and unexpected manner in which my Saturday teatime has panned out and with a crackle of electricity, Nico D'Angelo leans all the way down and kisses me. Bloody hell, he kisses me good, thoughts of Shay and Leon temporarily leave my mind as this good-looking lad who feels weirdly familiar, snogs the stuffing out of me on his bed.

  We kiss for ages, deep, aching snogs that make my bones melt, his tongue stroking mine. I wait for the uncomfortable-feeling of obligation that I feel in these situations, snogging lads from the cafe always come with a weary sense of resignation. I wait for that familiar prickle of discomfort to wash over me or for flashes of Charlie’s face to fill my head and make me panic but there’s nothing except a warm, right feeling from Nico’s touches. He pulls hesitantly at my white work shirt, loosening it gently from my skirt as his hands creep slowly underneath. Good Catholic lad my arse.

  When they reach their destination and his hand curls around my bra-covered breast, he breathes out a rasping, “Cazzo, cara”, as he slips his hand into the cup.

  Surprised at how nice this feels, I let out a gasp which lights a fire in Nico, his hands immediately fly to my shirt, snogging and undoing buttons like a pro. Bra laid bare to his inspection, he tugs at it, pulling the straps down my arms. I’m boggled by my own eagerness because suddenly, I’m pulling at his t-shirt and pressing kisses against his lemon-scented, olive skin. I’ve never wanted this before. He starts to recline so that I’m the one on top, looking a right fecking sight with my boobs hanging out of my bra but I silence any voices that might be urging caution in my head as we resume snogging.

  I briefly acknowledge that the look of wonder in Nico’s eyes makes me feel powerful, it makes me feel like I have control. Emboldened, I reach out a hand and feel just how bloody hard I have made Nico D'Angelo under his tracksuit bottoms.

  “Oh Lorna, belissima, please touch it, please”, his lip is being crushed by his teeth as he lifts his hips up, pushing into my hand.

  Nico's emerald-green eyes are wide as I slip my hand under the waistband. I touch hard, warm, dewy flesh and his eyes slam shut, his hips lift and he lets out a hiss of pleasure. As I gently wrap my fingers around him, I revel in the complete loss of control that I’m causing this boy that I actually like. Shocked by this unexpected enthusiasm that I feel and encouraged by Nico’s groans, I feel an urge to offer him something that I’ve always refused in the past.

  Watching his reactions, I slowly pull down his trousers and his jockeys. Nico opens his eyes, clearly intrigued as to where this little situation is going and if I’m honest, I don’t really know either. This is such an entirely different feeling from any of my previous encounters that relief and curiosity compel me to further bravery as slowly, with my heart pounding, I take him into my mouth, the first time I've ever done this.

  Like he’s been slapped with a frozen cod, Nico jumps, “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod” before collapsing into groans against the pillow.

  He tastes of lemon shower gel and I try licking differently, seeing what sounds I can get him to make but he’s a sixteen-year-old boy who has a half-naked girl sucking him off. As a result, Nico's longevity is limited and with an “Oh Fuck!”, he comes, without so much as a 'would you mind terribly?'. Too stunned to know what to do, I swallow, instantly deciding that this is not a part of this process to enjoy. He clocks my grimace and shudder and looks suitably apologetic.

  Flopped on the bed, he puts his hand over his eyes, like a swooning heroine in a crap airport novel, gasping out, “Cazzo Lorna. We just...you're...amazing, that was amazing cara. Honestly? Never done that before and that was, fuck, that was wicked”, his grin at me is so friendly that I smile wanly through my blushes but Nico's climax has been a wake up call.

  I suddenly feel guilt and shame sweep through me because although Nico is very fit and this here with him feels weirdly right, it’s Lee and Shay’s faces that are flashing through my head. Maybe the voices at school are right. Slut. Slag. I hurriedly straighten myself up.

  Nico clearly reading discomfort in my expression, reaches around me and pulls me into a hug, “Er, Lorn, I really like you cara and what we just did...I've fancied you for a while yeah, I, er...”, he gulps and looks down before raising his bright green eyes to me, “Will you go out with me Davies? Will you be my girlfriend?”, his eyes are pleading and so, so sweet.

  When I don't answer immediately, he leans forward and ignoring the fact that I probably taste of him, he kisses me. Twisting, he gently lays me back on the bed and somehow this feels a bit more, this heat flowing between us. His hand is back in my bra but his other hand is creeping down to my hips, where the elasticated waistband of my Lycra skirt sits. My guilt silenced by warm arousal, I lift my hips and let Nico slide my skirt down. I break the kiss to look at him, his eyes focussed on my knickers and my thighs, looking so adorably stunned that the power I feel encourages me to take it further. Why the fuck not?

  With a quick glance my way and a small nod of approval granted, Nico tugs my knickers down and stares at my bits like a kid in a sweet shop, “Fuuuuck…”, he breathes out slowly.

  My suspicions that Mr. D'Angelo might not be all that experienced are confirmed when he whispers urgently, “Lorn, how do I...?”. He looks embarrassed but I gently take his hand and move his fingers.

  His eyes squeeze shut in a look of pure bliss as he probes and strokes my slick flesh and I feel my body responding to his sweetly inept touch.

  Nico's breathing has changed and I feel him start to press against my leg through his jockeys. I like this boy. I fancy him and I'm in control here and Nico feels right and unlike Lee and Shay, Nico is offering more than just mates. His fingers are doing wicked things to me, motivating me to reach between us and pull him out of his jockeys. He springs out, like a reserve bench player who can't quite believe they're being given a second chance.

  I whisper gently, “Nico, do you want to?”. and so great is the shock on his face that his freckles stand out like exclamation marks on his olive skin.

  For a moment, I wonder if the words came out right but then he nods frantically, tugging his jockeys off. I admire the view for a second as I reach round and take off my bra and shirt. Nico stares at my breasts for far longer than is necessary, before reaching out and palming the weight of them as I lie back again. He licks at my skin, kisses my neck and the feel of his mouth on my body is lovely, it's like worship as I reach between us, positioning him.

  Nico's face goes slack with wonder, his green eyes wide as I guide him where he needs to be, shaking off memories of the previous, less welcome bodies. Nico hisses, his eyes flying to meet mine, looking so amazed that my breath hitches from the unexpected connection I feel to this boy, the weird rightness of him. This feels fundamental somehow. Different. For a second, I feel like I want to cry.

  A bit shell shocked, I kiss him again and whisper, “Push in Nico, it's OK yeah”, with a shaky nod and a deep, pained groan, Nico D'Angelo moves his hips in an unpractised but accurate way and he slides all the way in.

  I gasp from the odd feeling of fullness and Nico lets out a long, tortured moan. No uncomfortable, uneasy disquiet in my head either just lovel
y, lovely rubbing and sliding.. Rub, slide, push, groan. Nico is slack jawed, looking like he has just found Narnia, pumping his hips faster until I hear his shocked gasp against my skin and feel his back muscles tense and release. Nico stills, burying his face in my neck, panting and swearing. I stroke his broad shoulders and laugh nervously, my bare boobs wobbling against his chest.

  Then the front door slams.

  Panic overwhelming us both, Nico flies off the bed pulling on his pants and trousers. I follow suit, pulling my skirt on with no knickers, my bra on with only one hook fastened. My shirt has only half the buttons done up, my shoes hiding under his bed.

  He pushes his fingers to his lips, listening at the door before huffing in relief, “It's Ma and the Priest, they've gone in the kitchen. I'll go down and tell them that you're here waiting for Rosa”, he cups my cheek and plants a kiss on my lips, “Lorn, that was fucking amazing cara. We're together now yeah, you and me? Shit man, I can't believe this is happening”, with a dazzling grin, he kisses me again and shoots silently into the bathroom.

  I make a similarly stealthy move to Rosa's room, where I re-dress properly and reacquaint myself with my knickers, only to feel a warm, wet drip of...OH SHIT! Those other times on those grubby dates, it was the guys who sorted the condoms, more adept at the business of quick shags. Now, I’m a moron who just had unprotected sex with a nice, kind, inexperienced, familiar boy who now thinks I'm their girlfriend.

  My head reeling, I’m entirely preoccupied when Rosa walks into her bedroom ten minutes later, “Jailbait! The shop was mental and now there's a Priest watching my TV. What's brought you here then?”, Rosa’s busy stripping and changing her clothes, squirting perfume like a humidifier.