by Nia Lucas
I don't question where we're going. I realise right then, I'd follow Leon Barrett pretty much anywhere.
His hand never leaves mine as he navigates the tube, his head down, no eye contact with anyone, scowling and hostile. We get off and Lee leads me through the crowds as we emerge on the streets of Westminster, the beating heart of tourist London. His hand gripping mine is almost painful as he leads me along in the shadows of Big Ben to Westminster Abbey, somewhere I've never been. Lee's furious pace slows as he stands next to the railings, looking at me warily.
“Lee, is this Westminster Abbey?”
He shuffles, “Uhuh”, looking down at his feet.
I shoulder nudge him gently, “You a secret Priest Lee?”, smiling.
He smirks shaking his head, “Nah Shortie, you're the one hangin’ wiv nuns”, his smile is mesmerising in its rarity.
He looks over his shoulder, “Not been here for long time. Mal and me, we'd come wiv Pops when we was little kids, before...before he y'know, went away”, he looks at the floor again.
I lean into him, propped against the railings as he mutters, “He'd bring us here, show us all them famous dead people, kings an' shit. He said it was the first place he come when he landed from Jamaica, he still had his fuckin' suitcase wiv him. Pops was wicked smart but....”, Lee's shaking his head as his words stop.
I squeeze his hand in encouragement, “Well, c'mon, show me round tour guide”, and I pull him along, heading for where tourists in their droves are milling about.
Entering the massive space, this was probably the last place I imagined Lee would bring me. He gruffly points out things that he remembers, his comments ground out as if he's doing this against his will.
He stops suddenly in one of the little chapels, his expression pained as he points at a sombre looking statue of a woman with impressive facial hair, “This one made Mal's piss himself, some woman grew a fuckin' beard so that she wouldn't have to get married or some shit”, he grabs my hand and starts to aggressively weave in and out of the crowds again.
We miss some of the sights but I sense that he's finding this trip harder than he thought and before I can really register what we've seen, we're back outside. Lee looks angry which I’m learning generally means that he's either sad or hurting if there’s nothing obvious that’s pissed him off. He's staring at the traffic and avoiding looking at me.
I whisper, “You ‘kay Lee?, my heart racing with the nerves.
His eyes are closed and he nods, his forehead leaning against mine as he whispers, “I fuckin' miss them”, so softly, I almost miss it as he buries his head in my neck.
Lee moves eventually, no words spoken and with my hand in his, he leads me away, back to the tube. On the train, he leans against the partition and pulls me against him. For the entirety of our journey, his arms are around my waist and his head on my shoulder as I try not to collapse from the bliss of feeling so needed. I don't ask where we're going because in all honesty, I don't care. If I’m with him, that's all I want.
Climbing the stairs of the exit and walking down another busy road as he mumbles, “I need some munch man, fuckin' starvin'”, and without waiting for my answer, leads me into a grubby looking pizza takeaway on the main road.
Awkwardly ordering food and drinks, we sit at a sticky table with battered pre-moulded seating with Lee's hunched down again in his chair, his whole physicality transmitting hostility. His stare fixed on the condiments on the table as he scarfs his food. Only a week ago, this would have panicked me. I would have felt inadequate, unable to retain the attention of this incredibly cool boy but I’m starting to 'speak' Lee. Sharing personal stuff, in Lee's experience, gives people power over you. He’s slouched, scowling and fiddling with the ketchup as he chews because I think he’s expecting this morning’s revelations to bite him soundly in the arse. If he looks like he doesn't give two shits, maybe he figures he can hold onto some power.
I try and catch his eye asking, “So, tour guide, what you fancy doing this afternoon?”, he's looking anywhere but at me, glowering and shrugging.
Feigning distracted innocence, I give it another go, “Well, I was thinking of going back to the flat, maybe playing strip ‘Street Fighter’ but if you're not fussed, I'll go play naked computer games with somebody else”, I look at the greasy ceiling and suck my drink through a straw.
I see his lips twitch and his eyes start to twinkle as I get a smile and some eye contact, “You're fuckin' mental Shortie, y’know that?”, he shakes his head and attacks his pizza again.
On the bus to The Farm, he becomes more relaxed as we leave behind the bustle of town. Entering the lobby of the flat, Lee silences my nervous jabbering in the lift with a snog before dragging me down the corridor. As he fumbles with the door key, I let a wave of happiness sweep over me. I'm back here. Stepping through the threshold I barely get a chance to shut the door behind me before Lee pins me against the wall with his big, tall body, almost frantic in his kisses and his touches. I’m giddy from the attention but as he simultaneously starts to push down my combats and undo the belt on his jeans, I realise that things are not just urgent, they are going way too fast. Lee has pushed his jeans down, exposing his jockey shorts and he's now wrestling with the ties on my trousers. With a sudden panic, I realise that he’s driving us towards sex in the hallway, with our coats still on.
I gasp, “Lee, Lee, stop, STOP LEE”, my voice wobbles and Lee jolts, his eyes glazed and unfocussed.
His expression hardens into a frown as I kiss him gently, “Lee, there's no rush, c'mon, lets go to your room”, but he's not moving and that angry, closed look is back.
I’m unsure what this is, “Lee, let’s get our coats off eh?”, but he remains stony and I feel entirely out of my depth. I shakily take off my own coat, trying to buy myself more time.
I whisper, “Lee?” but he glares at me.
My heart’s thumping, “Talk to me Lee, please, I just...I just need to slow it down a bit. Lee, I don't...I mean I...”, I’m wringing my hands as I try to find the words to match my discomfort.
Lee looks similarly unsettled but I can't read him. I can understand frustration at being told he was going to fast but this? This looks like embarrassment. Why? He leans against the hallway wall and slides down it until he’s resting on his haunches, his hands on his head, a vision of despair.
Lee mumbles, I miss the first few words because the blood is pounding in my head, “.....just I ain't fuckin' done that”, his head is tipped back against the wall and his eyes are screwed shut.
I’m properly baffled, “Lee, I don't understand...?”. There’s no way that Lee Barrett has not had sex.
Lee looks at me, his face neutral, his eyes hard as he growls, “Never been wiv' a girl like that, truth. It's only ever been y'know, a creepin' thing. I ain't never brought a girl here, just been cars and parks and clubs and shit, quick thing”, he shrugs and looks down at his feet.
I swallow hard and step towards him, he looks up at me and I see that vulnerability again as I whisper, “Lee, come and try a bed with me”, despite my nerves, I manage a cheeky wink and nearly melt with relief when his lips twitch.
His eyes roll as he takes my proffered hand, laughing when my attempts to heave his tall frame upright are fruitless. He jumps to his feet like a bloody cat and moves forward so that he looms over me, taking my hand and leading me to his messy, chaotic room. Sitting down on his unmade bed, I watch Lee lose his jacket and trainers before he sits next to me, his eyes hot but furtive. Nervously, I reach out and I pull him into a kiss, relief at the growing familiarity of this action against his soft lips. Lee slowly leans into me until I’m entirely pinned under his body on his bed and this is bliss. My hands run up and down his strong arms, his soft neck, his clothed muscled bum. When I touch his broad back. Lee tenses, his kiss suddenly closing down and I remember again what Jock said. Nervously, I reach down and wiggle out of my crop top, a jolt of triumph when I see him swallow deeply.
I turn onto my front and whisper,
“Undo it, Lee”, as he kneels up between my legs, his finger skimming my bare back, fiddling and releasing until I turn over to face him.
Lee hisses out a breath and I watch as he bends his head, lowering himself down on his arms as I feel his warm wet tongue stroking my skin, making my back arch and my toes curl. With a little more clothing wrangling, I’m just in my pants on Lee's bed and he’s looking at me like nobody has ever looked at me before. Like I have all the power .
“Lee”, I whisper, “Lee, take off your t-shirt, please”. His brown eyes plead and his jaw clenches but he doesn't move.
I kneel up, forgetting for a moment that I’m almost naked, “Lee, please, for me, take the t-shirt off”
I cup his face with my hands, “Please Lee”.
His eyes don’t leave mine, challenge radiating from his glare, as his hands slowly reach for the hem of his t-shirt. With his eyes closed, he haltingly lifts his Stussy t-shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor. Lee's head lowers in defeat, his beautiful, muscled body bowed, his jaw clenched in discomfort as my heart physically aches for him. I take his hands, placing them on my bare waist, offering my skin as balm for his discomfort.
Lee's strong body covers mine, hands stroking me, groaning wordlessly into my neck as I feel like I’m dissolving in sensation. His hands creep beneath the waistband of my knickers and as he starts to slip them down my legs, I’m lost in the wonder of being here, with Lee. To be fair, he looks just as shocked as me by my new naked status and squirming in discomfort, I distract myself by pushing his undone jeans down his thighs with my feet, his jockey shorts now riding very low on his hips. Recovering from his shock, he pulls back and as I look down, my brain short circuits. Lee is naked. Lee is fucking enormous, I’ve never seen anything like it and my thunderstruck expression makes him smirk.
I can't stop the words escaping, “Lee, it's massive....how will I....how can I....?”, I look at him startled but my words fade out as his kisses soothe the panic right out of me.
The feel of being skin to skin with somebody I fancy so much combined with the wicked feel of his fingers, tips me into a spiral. As my toes curl, I cry out softly as I come on his fingers, making him pant swear words into my neck. The whole time, there's a voice in my head, giddy and squealing, “You're naked on a bed with Lee Barrett. You. Lorna Davies”. In shock, I push him onto his back, pressing kisses down his torso, licking and nipping at his incredible, velvet-soft skin. I trace the faint lines of the tattoo across his pecs and I go lower, his dark curls tickling my face, looking up his torso through my lashes, to where he is wide-eyed and breathless. The heat in his eyes drives me into boldness and without breaking my gaze, I run my tongue up the length of him, making him whimper and swear.
I slowly lower my lips, licking and sucking as my tongue explores the contours while Lee's eyes scrunch in bliss, “Oh fuck Shortie, oh shit”.
After only a few seconds of my ministrations, Lee pulls me up to kiss me and my hands accidentally run over the length of his bare back. Distracted by our activities, Lee doesn't flinch but I feel it. I feel the thickened areas of epidermis on his back, the raised lines, the bumpy, ridged areas of flesh. I feel Lee's story on his skin, I feel his pain under my fingers. I experience a surge of emotion and I need Lee, I need more.
I’ve learnt my lesson from Nico, “Lee, we need to use something, have you, er, have you….?”, Lee’s already moving off the bed towards the drawers across the room and as he turns his back to me, I see the devastating truth.
Tens of raised, linear lines, darker in colour than his skin tone, areas of paler, thicker scarring that look almost square in shape, defined. Thicker lines which run right across his back and shiny patches where the skin is thickened and bumpy looking. From shoulder blades to just above his buttocks, he carries his battle scars. I fight every urge that I have to wail with misery, to scream in outrage at the damage that has been done to his beautiful body. I have to hold it in because Lee is turning, holding a wrapper like a trophy, his face triumphant and I manage a wobbly grin as he prowls towards me. Eyebrow raised, he hands me the condom which throws me, my previous experience includes the lad dealing with that.
I point at it, “I've never put one on before, show me?” and he smiles softly and shows me how it's done, our blushes a bit nuclear.
He leans me back, looking at me questioningly as I nod but whisper, “Slowly though, yeah?”, a lip wobble betraying my nerves.
Lee, his eyes now open and fixed on mine, oh-so-gently pushes. It's borderline painful but he's so slow, so restrained, it's a sensation that I can handle. As he keeps sliding in, his eyes reflect the astonishment that I feel.
Wide eyed and slack jawed he grinds out, “Oh Fuck Shortie, shit, I'm.....that's....fuck......that's”, and he loses his words as he captures my mouth in a kiss and his hips start to gently move.
It’s a world apart from Nico's unpolished thrusting but I feel a stab of guilt from that comparison. Lee's dancer's body knows exactly how to move as he kisses me wetly, his hands deftly stroking me into giddy insensibility.
“Lee!”, I gasp in shock as he increases the pumps of his hips to a startling rhythm, with a speed that renders me breathless.
“Fuck Lor, SHIT.....”, and Lee growls, pushing himself into me as far as he can.
My vision is impaired by dots and stars as he gently collapses onto my chest, sloppy kisses on my neck as I smile in bliss. Belatedly, he realises that my hands are resting on his damaged back and wincing, he shifts off me, my hands forcibly removed. Removing the condom with a rubbery 'thwack' before tying it in a knot and dumping it unceremoniously off the edge of the bed, he lies back, an arm over his face. I lie on my side, pressing kisses to his chest.
He turns and looks at me, “Shortie, y'know, you good?”, he sounds nervous and his brow is furrowed.
I raise a cheeky eyebrow as I say, “Uhuh, I reckon a solid eight out of ten”, I stick my tongue in my cheek
His eyes narrow and a smirk quirks his lips, “Fuck that shit, Shortie, that was a ten”, and he tickles me as I laugh and beg for mercy.
As our silliness subsides, we stare at each other. I hold eye contact as my hand moves from his side, back around to rest on his scars.
He tries to shrug me off, “Nah, nah Lor, don't”, he looks miserable.
I whisper, “I know Lee, I saw but I want to be able to hug you properly. I want to do this. Please let me?”
He looks uncomfortable but he also doesn't stop me so I plough on, my fingers gently dancing across his ruined skin until I am hugging him, hands clasped on his back.
He is rigid with discomfort so I distract him, sighing, “Lee, can I just stay here? No GCSE's, no working at the pub. My job from now on is just to be naked with you. You OK with that?”
I watch him try and hide a smile as he grumbles back, “It pay decent, this naked job of yours? Coz Shortie, I'd lie here with you any day rather than face that fat cunt Brian”, he’s smiling now. My hands are on his back and he's smiling.
I grin, “Nah, pay's crap but the benefits are pretty good”, I wink
He laughs, “You're fuckin' mental Lor, you know that?”, and he lowers his head to my ear, his whisper making me shiver, “I ain't never been like this wiv a girl before Lor. This is new, yeah?”, he looks at me quizzically, waiting for my response.
I whisper back, “You like it?”.
He looks away from me, “Fuck yeah but the shit wiv my back....”, he looks lost
I jump in quickly, “ It doesn't matter Lee because to me, it just means that you're brave and amazing and I like having your bare skin on mine”, I wink with far more confidence than I feel, rewarded with a rare and blinding Barrett grin as he wrestles with the duvet until we are both snuggled naked in the warmth, Lee's arms holding me tight.
A short while later, I wake from a sticky doze and catch sight of the clock: Twenty past five.
I gasp, “Lee, LEE, we need to get up, Shay'll be home soon”, Lee’s on his back,
taking up all the room in this bed, resisting my attempts to wake him, his face relaxed in sleep.
I’m sore, the smell of sex is a bit overwhelming and I want a shower but Lee’s not budging. Hissing and wincing from my misused lady parts, I head to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, I realise that my hair is a total birds nest and I look like the victim of a crime. I also have a spot coming on my chin and a big one on my shoulder. Christ, the glamour.
Showered and dressed, I find Lee in the lounge, the TV on and a tea in his hand. He looks up at me and smiles broadly, an image that I decide to lock away in my memory banks, as he gives me a gentle, soft kiss before heading for his own shower. My time with Lee has been so perfect and I have no idea where this leaves us because I still want Shay but honestly, I don't feel this ridiculous situation is workable. Not now. Not now that it’s become so real. This entire situation is bananas and I’m not sure what we all thought we were playing at frankly. I decide I’ll speak to Shay and make life simple by just being with Lee, if indeed Lee wants me. There’s no way Shay would walk away from a lifelong friendship because of me. If Lee and I are together, Shay can and will easily find a cooler, prettier girl. No way would Shay allow an unappealing ginger short-ass to get between him and his best mate. Shay will be fine, he was probably just bored and I was convenient. He won’t give me a backwards glance. Storm in a teacup. Sorted.
My internalised stern talking-to is interrupted by a cacophony of expletives as Shay explodes through the front door with an astonishing wall of noise,
“Lee man, LEE, LOR, you fuckers had best be in, not pissin' 'bout somewhere. Little Red, you here? Lor?”, the sound of heavy boots clattering onto bare floor reaches my ears and I can't help the smile that splits my face. Shay. My heart’s beating through my chest as Seamus O'Driscoll bursts into the lounge and I realise in that instant that I am a moron to have considered a choice because I don't think I could ever walk away from him. His big, lanky frame fills the doorway. His dirty blond hair is mussed, his face is streaked with dirt and his grey Adidas sweatshirt is covered in muck and cement. He has a pair of low slung, worn jeans and his feet are in mismatched thick socks and I can smell sweat from across the room but that broad white smile and his blue eyes are the stuff of teen magazine covers the world over.