by A. S. Kelly
“Pasta bake.”
“Isn’t that what you always make when you want to be alone?”
“I think I could be convinced to share it.”
“Interesting…” I say, pressing my lips against hers. “What else could you be convinced to share?”
“I’ll tell you at home tonight,” she says, lowering her voice.
At home.
A spasm shoots through my chest.
“I can’t wait to come home.”
69
Chris
A nice, relaxed Friday evening in with Evan and Ryan. My son doesn’t seem to want to go out with his friends much anymore, and even though I should be happy about that, I’m starting to worry. I don’t want him to dedicate his life to just keeping his mother company.
Ryan’s been here for two weeks, since the day I came home from the hospital. He takes Evan to school in the mornings, then drops me off at the café – where we’re still trying to sort out the wreckage – and then he goes off to training. In the evenings, he comes back here to be with us. Dinners, TV, and steamy nights under the covers.
I’m getting used to all of this: to his presence, to this new ‘normal’ that I’m starting to like more and more every day. I know that it could all disappear at any moment, but I can’t bring up that topic with him. I don’t want my desperation to have all the answers to scare him off so early.
We sit down on the sofa, ready to put on yet another film, when someone knocks at the door. Evan presses pause, then gets up and goes to answer.
“Hey, family!” I feel Ryan stiffen immediately next to me at the sound of Martin’s voice. “I thought I’d swing by to say hello,” Martin walks in and stops a few paces from the sofa. “Oh. I see we’re still here.”
Ryan jumps up and stands in front of him.
“Where did you think I’d go?”
“I’m just surprised you’re still here.”
“Okay,” I say, getting up too. “Let’s just clear something up here.”
“There’s nothing to clear up,” Ryan says, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “It’s all perfectly clear.”
Jesus Christ.
Martin looks at us for a few seconds, then turns to me. “He knows, right?”
“Of course. But it doesn’t look like that’s reassured him enough.”
“What do you want, then?” he asks Ryan, “A signed contract?”
“I’d rather you didn’t keep turning up.”
“Does me being here make you uncomfortable?”
“To be honest, yes.”
“Well, that’s your problem Mr Muscle.”
“What the fuck did you call me?” Ryan says, letting go of my shoulders to approach Martin threateningly.
“Mum, please do something!” Evan cries, grabbing my attention.
I sigh, deciding to intervene. I didn’t plan to get involved – I quite liked them fighting over me like that – but it’s not the nicest situation, especially for Evan.
“Come on, guys,” I say, stepping between them and placing my hands on their chests. “Let’s try and just clear up your…roles. Martin is Evan’s father. He comes round a lot – maybe too much, okay – but he’s part of the furniture. And that’s not going to change. And Ryan is…well, he’s…”
“The one you’re fucking,” Martin suggests.
“Martin! Not in front of Evan!”
“What, like I haven’t heard you?”
Oh God.
“Maybe it’s best if I speak. Dad, you’re here way too much, and I’d prefer if you stayed away a little bit more. At least for Mum, now that she and Ryan are, let’s say, seeing each other.”
“Seeing each other?” Martin asks, one eyebrow shooting up. “He basically lives here.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It’s my business as long as you’re involved.”
“It’s fine by me. Since he’s been here, I’ve got to school on time, Mum’s happy, and she’s been drinking less.”
“Evan!”
“What? That’s what’s happened.”
“And you?” Martin turns to Ryan. “Don’t you have anything to add?”
“Are you serious, mate?”
“What are your intentions with her?”
“I definitely don’t have to tell you.”
“I’m not so sure about that…”
“Can we all just please calm down a bit?” I jump in.
“I don’t like you, O’Connor.”
“The feeling’s mutual.”
“For now I’m keeping an eye on you,” he says, sitting on the sofa and crossing his legs. “What are we watching?”
“Are you kidding?” Ryan asks.
“There’s some chicken left, if you want,” Evan adds.
“Is he actually serious?” Ryan asks me.
“Looks like it.”
“Move over,” Ryan scoffs, plonking himself down next to him.
“You’re taking up too much space.”
“You’re the one sitting on the wrong sofa.”
I can’t quite stifle a smile – neither can my heart. Seeing them all here, in my house, ready to share this screwed-up family, to accept it (or at least, put up with it) just for me.
“Come here,” Ryan says, tearing me away from my thoughts, and I shuffle over to him.
I lean my head on his shoulder and tuck my legs underneath me. I start to enjoy the atmosphere: this family and this new reality. I need to get used to it, and quickly.
The evening carries on this way until Martin decides it’s time to go home. Evan heads up to his room, and I start to load the dishwasher.
“I don’t like that guy.”
“That guy is Evan’s dad.”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“I told you, he’s gay.”
He comes over to me and leans against the countertop, his arms either side of me.
“I can’t stand that he…”
“Look, I’ve slept with other guys, okay?”
“Please don’t tell me that. I’d rather pretend it’s not true.”
I turn to look at him. “Are you jealous, Ryan O’Connor?”
“Fuck yes.”
I smile, satisfied.
“Come on, don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not,” I lie, unable to contain the joy plastered across my face.
“You like it, don’t you?”
“What?”
“You like the fact I can’t stand the idea of this body with anyone else’s.”
“This body is mine. I guess I could let you borrow it sometimes.”
“Don’t joke around, Christine. Don’t provoke me.”
“Why? What would happen?” I challenge, one eyebrow raised.
Ryan grabs my hips and throws me over his shoulder.
“What the hell…? Put me down!” I demand, but he keeps hold of my legs firmly.
“I warned you,” he says, heading for the stairs.
“You’re an idiot, O’Connor!”
His hand smacks against my bottom.
“Hey!”
“Don’t keep provoking me, or it’ll be even worse for you.”
“Ooh, I’m shaking…”
We get into my bedroom and he puts me down.
“You’re just a…” He shuts me up with his mouth, pressing me against the wall.
His kisses are rough. They clear my mind, taking away all my strength, leaving me breathless. My legs give way, my whole body giving itself up to him.
Ryan O’Connor is demanding. He wants everything, and he doesn’t want to wait for it; and I don’t object. I don’t even try.
“What do we have here?” he whispers, pushing his erection against me.
“Fuck you and your orgasms.”
He smiles, pleased with himself, as his hands slide under the waistband of my trousers, sending a shiver down to my thighs. He tugs them down and I stand there, defenceless, in front of him. He pulls h
is shirt over his head and pushes himself against me.
“Now let’s see if I can make you forget about all those other guys.”
“There weren’t that many.”
“Still too many.”
He slides down my body as I lean back against the wall; his breath tickles between my thighs, as he slides his finger under my panties, slipping them slowly over my legs with his warm hands.
He lifts himself back up to my thighs, and I tremble under the warmth of his skin. I hold my breath, waiting to feel him inside me – but he has other ideas. He throws my legs over his shoulders and stands up effortlessly, with me on top of him.
“What…?” I ask, shifting my weight nervously.
He pushes me back against the wall, keeping me up.
“I want to show you what all these muscles are for,” he says, before his tongue proves him right.
I’m balancing on his shoulders, his face between my thighs, his hands grabbing tightly onto my arse.
My God, I could almost come at the thought of it.
Ryan pins me up against the wall, strong and secure; he takes what he wants, without a word, and I can’t do anything but tug at his hair, pushing him deeper inside me.
The heat of his breath ripples through my body, his tongue exploring, marking his territory. I give myself over to him completely.
“This is just mine, now,” he whispers into my pulsing clit, before plunging once again inside me.
And with his strength, with his desire, and all his muscles, Ryan O’Connor is telling me exactly that: now, I’m his. And I don’t plan on fighting it.
70
Ryan
“There’s a match tomorrow,” I say, lying next to her.
I stroke the length of her body as she keeps her eyes closed.
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you want to come?”
She rolls towards me and opens her eyes.
“Do you want me to come?”
“Yes.” I really do. When she’s there, in the stands, I feel energised, motivated, as if I’m playing for something more important. As if I’m playing for her. And it’s strange, intense. It’s surprising, but at the same time, it pulses an adrenaline through my whole body, pumping my blood faster.
“I’m sure I could find the time.”
“You could?”
“I’ll have to check my diary.”
I grab her hips and pull her on top of me.
Jesus. She fits so well there.
“Don’t joke around.”
“Has anyone ever told you how controlling you are? It’s a little psychopathic.”
“Runs in the family.”
“I don’t know if I like that about you.”
“Well, you like other things about me…right?” I ask her, trying to joke around – but a little insecurity in my voice betrays me.
“Maybe,” she says, tracing along my chest with her finger.
“Like what? Let’s hear it…”
“Well, your muscles, for a start.”
“You’re so predictable.”
“Not to mention your abs. The first time I saw you with your shirt off, in your parents’ garden, I thought I might come.”
I burst out laughing, making her wobble on top of me.
“That: that’s what I actually like.”
“Mmm?”
“Your laugh.”
“Really?” I ask, curious.
“You don’t laugh much – actually, until a few weeks ago, you never laughed. I remember the first time you did, I felt my legs tremble and…”
“And what?”
“And something else trembled, too…” she says, hesitantly. “Something a little further up.”
I exhale deeply and take the leap. “Something here?” I say, pointing to her chest.
She nods, avoiding my gaze.
I roll her onto her back and lie down next to her, making sure she’s looking at me while I talk to her.
“The first time you smiled at me, I thought I was losing my mind,” I start, hesitating now too. “I was used to women smiling at me, but they were always so fake, flashing their grins at you, thinking they had some sort of hold over you. Those smiles that are only focused on one thing. But yours comes from here,” I say, pointing to her stomach. “And from here,” I say, pointing to her heart. “And it’s real, it’s spontaneous. It’s stunning. When you smile, Christine, I think I could dive into it. Drown in it.”
“Oh…wow.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not.”
“It isn’t easy for me to say things like this.”
“Of course not, Mr Muscle. I get it – it could ruin your reputation.”
“No, that’s not it. I was a different person before.”
“Interesting.”
“I was innocent, ambitious. And then, one day, I woke up and my life had come crashing down around me. My dream has disappeared.”
Her expression is suddenly serious.
“And now, I think I could make a new dream. But I’m scared of waking up and seeing that it’s all gone again.”
Christine strokes my face with both hands. “If you’re talking about me, you should know by now that I’m not exactly easy to get rid of,” she says, smiling tenderly.
I stroke her face, too. “I really hope not.”
Then there’s nothing else to say. There’s no need.
There are only our lips, our breathing, our caresses.
There’s her and there’s me, and everything we take from each other.
There are our new dreams. Dreams that we’re building together.
71
Ryan
“Before you two start with your hilarious jokes, I have something to tell you.”
Jamie and Ian look at me, without a word.
“I’ve invited Christine to the game.”
Still nothing.
“And I think I’ll be inviting her to all our games from now on.”
They nod, slowly.
“And I want you to stop taking the piss for it.”
Jamie holds his hands up. “You’re taking the piss out of yourself, mate.”
“Sure, like you weren’t ready to jump all over me.”
“No, Ryan. I already told you you’re not my type. Too many…muscles.”
“Me?”
“Sure. I’d look like a complete loser next to you.”
“What the fuck…?”
“Besides, I don’t like rugby players. Wouldn’t want them to steal my thunder.”
I shake my head, exasperated.
“Also,” Ian cuts in, “We already knew Chris was here.”
“How?”
“You’re forgetting that Nick’s out there, too.”
Right. One brother too many.
“So why didn’t you jump down my throat straight away, as usual?”
Ian smiles. “We were doing it to make you move your arse in the right direction. But you’ve already taken the hint. You don’t need us to push you anymore.”
I cross my arms.
“Wow, someone’s starting to actually believe in all that crap. That’ll be Jamie’s terrible influence.”
“Hey, watch your mouth. I’m still your captain.”
“You can’t say a fucking thing to me off the field.”
“Just you wait, mate.”
“I’ll leave you two to your bickering. I want to call Riley before the first whistle,” Ian walks away, as I sit down on the bench. Jamie plops down next to me and starts to churn out one of his pearls of wisdom.
“You know, I don’t really believe in this kind of stuff…” he starts, his expression serious. “But other people do. I mean, look at Ian…and now you,” he turns to me, catching my gaze. “I think that the people we choose to surround ourselves with make us better. You know why?”
I shake my head.
“Because they see what’s inside us and reach out to us anyway. And it isn’t always pretty, wha
t you find inside yourself. Sometimes it’s easier not to look at all, and by ourselves, mate, we don’t have the courage to face what we’re hiding. But if someone takes your hand, anything seems possible.”
I listen to him, spellbound by his wisdom.
“I can’t do it.”
“Jamie…”
“No, I don’t want to talk about myself. I’m only saying it because I want you to understand how difficult it can be to reach out. And it’s even more difficult to keep hold of that person. But sometimes it’s the only way to save yourself.”
“You’ve lost me.”
Jamie smiles. “You’ll get it.”
He gets up and walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and his words, which start to take shape in my mind. I think I’m starting to get what he means.
When I step out onto the field, the crowd is going mad. We’re almost at the finals of the championship, at the top of the league. The fans are crazy this season, supporting us like never before. The team is the best it’s ever been, the guys all in perfect shape physically. They’re motivated; but today, I have one more thing to motivate me. And she’s sitting in the stands.
I never thought a woman could give me this kind of motivation, that shimmer of adrenaline. The force that keeps you running faster, making joy explode in your chest every time you score a try.
I never really believed in it – not even when I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with someone. But today, I believe it.
Today, I believe in something new. Something unexpected, and wonderful.
Something that’s watching me from the crowd, wearing a Leinster jersey. Something that, after I’ve won, after I’ve celebrated in the changing rooms, I’ll find waiting for me.
At home.
As soon as I come out of the grounds, I run straight over to hers.
She opens the front door for me, still wearing the team jersey which hangs down to her knees, a pair of culottes poking out from underneath.
I kick the door shut, scooping her up in my arms and making her take a few steps backwards. I push my mouth against hers, my longing for her overwhelming. I try to make it to the stairs, to take her up to her bedroom, but we both fall on the third step.