Chapter Four
Ronan
John-Francis didn’t belong to me, and yet I burnt with rage as if he did.
It was ridiculous. I wasn’t the possessive sort, never had been.
All of my prior relationships had been brief and wholly sexual, just like that encounter with John-Francis, and yet catching sight of him with a wee blonde girl…
He’d let her kiss him, something he’d refused me and that stung.
I sat in a ratty picnic chair, alone and brooding. Neither Ma nor Darragh had returned from the party yet, but I wasn’t much in the mood for revelry now. I tilted my head back, staring up into the clear night sky.
Maybe it was for the best. We’d be moving on from here after the weekend no doubt and then John-Francis would be nothing but a memory to me.
He was clearly hiding from himself, something I swore I’d never do.
I might have hidden myself from outsiders, but inside?
Inside, I knew what I wanted and wasn’t ashamed of getting it.
I didn’t have time to hand-hold a fella who was fighting that sort of fight.
I’d been there, done it. It was too painful and too messy.
Nah, I’d just focus on me and mine, and after the fair was done, I’d disappear and never have to think about John-Francis ever again…
but until then, the fucker was all I had on my mind, and it irritated me. I needed another drink.
With a groan, I heaved myself up from my chair and wandered through the dark towards the glow of the bonfire. There’d be a wee tinnie or some shite I could nab and then I’d be making my way back to my chair, alone in the darkness.
Before I could get there, a familiar voice pulled me up. It was just the person I didn’t want it to be.
“‘Ey, howsagoin’?”
John-Francis was loitering in the shadows, hands in pockets. Those grey eyes of his bored into me and I hated how much I enjoyed having them on me.
“All finished up wi’ y’girl already, like?” I muttered tersely, striding past him. “And I’d thought ya quick the other night.”
It was a low blow, but I couldn’t help it. I was smarting and I didn’t make a habit out of letting people hurt me and get away with it.
“Oi, feck off, like,” John-Francis snapped, though I could sense a ripple of mirth in his tone. He followed behind me, keeping a safe distance that was far enough not to attract unwanted attention, but closer than I’d usually allow a stranger.
As we arrived beside the bonfire, I made a beeline for a table stacked high with crates of beer and lager, snatching a tinnie and cracking it open. John-Francis waited for me, falling in step beside me once more as I returned to where I’d come from.
“Not joinin’ the party, now?” he asked.
“Nah, not in the mood.”
There was a tense silence, just the noise of our footsteps on the gravel. John-Francis cleared his throat.
“Y’pissed wi’ me, aye?”
“Nah,” I lied, taking a sip from my can. “No need ta be. Y’can ride who y’want ta. Was a wee bit surprised y’go both ways, but that’s no business of mine, like.”
Another silence.
“Aye, not so sure I do, now.”
I stumbled, catching my foot on the back of the other. It was too dark to see clearly, but I glanced across at John-Francis with a bitter laugh.
“Could o’ fooled me, like.”
“Is that not the point?” he replied. “Wee settled was makin’ a move an’ I needed ta play along, like. Y’know how it is, aye? Me mates… They’re not like me.”
I scoffed. “Ah, f’sure. Y’looked ta be hatin’ it, fella.”
John-Francis reached out and grasped my arm, halting me. I turned back to look at him.
“Get ya head outta ya hole f’five minutes, aye?” he muttered. “I’m tryin’ ta make good wi’ ya.”
I fixed him with a stare. “Why?”
He didn’t answer me, but when his eyes dropped to my mouth seemingly of their own accord, I felt like I could jump right out of my skin.
There it was again, that fucking tension that made it hard to breathe, hard to think…
I hated that I couldn’t even be angry with him without that familiar heat creeping its way through my body.
“Go on,” I said, voice barely above a whisper, daring him to take the step he was holding back from.
“Nah,” John-Francis mumbled. “It’d be too complicated, like.”
“More than shiftin’ wi’ a wee feckin’ settled hoor?”
“Aye.” He forced himself to turn away, running a hand through his hair. “That’d be meanin’ nothin’ ta me, now. Less than nothin’.” John-Francis’s gaze drifted back to me, and I could feel the intensity of it even through the dim light.
Would kissing me somehow be admitting what we both knew already?
I shook myself off and turned away. “Grab yourself a wee tinnie or somethin’ aye? I’d not be mindin’ y’company if ya up ta givin’ it, like.”
John-Francis jogged back to the party, grabbing himself a drink as instructed before returning to me.
“I was drinkin’ outside me gaff, but me ma and cousin are likely ta be back soon,” I said.
“Y’wanna call by me place instead, aye? Might be a wee bit less complicated t’ explain.”
“Aye, quality.” We changed direction and I let John-Francis lead. “I’m fairly sure they know what I’d be gettin’ up ta anyhow, mind.”
“Aye?” I could sense John-Francis’s curiosity. “Ya’d told ‘em?”
I shrugged. “No’ in as many words, like. We don’t make a habit outta bringin’ it up.”
There was a long silence and just as I opened my mouth to fill it, John-Francis spoke.
“And they’d not be mindin’ it? Not even ya ma?”
Though he was desperately trying to sound casual, I sensed that question held a lot of weight behind it.
What was he getting at? A lightbulb went off over my head as I suddenly made an important connection.
Perhaps John-Francis wasn’t hiding from himself…
Perhaps he was using it like armour against something much worse. I swallowed, mouth dry.
“Aye, she’s never said much ‘bout it, like. Truth be told, she was a wee hippie sort in her day. She’d be pretty open-minded ‘bout most shite,” I chuckled.
“Ah, that’s nice f’ya though,” John-Francis replied, he was doing a good job at feigning indifference, but that stiffness was still lingering in his voice.
“Y’see ya own family much?”
“Nah.” His response was instant and short, quickly changing the subject, gesturing to his caravan. “This is me, like.”
I allowed the uncomfortable topic to drop and surveyed the place. It was a decent one, clean and well maintained.
“Ya live on y’own, aye?” I asked, taking a sip from my can.
John-Francis sat down on the steps leading to the door and cracked his own open. Lager fizzed over the rim, and he sucked it up.
“Aye, just me.”
“Ah, that must be grand, like,” I sighed. “I need ta get ta sortin’ out a wee place o’ me own. Can’t be livin’ wi’ me ma forever.”
John-Francis laughed. “Nah, bit weird, aye? I get it though. I lived cooped up wi’ me mate Declan f’years ‘fore I got this place.” He tapped his knuckles against the cladding. There was a thoughtful pause. “Say, how old a’ ya?”
“Twenty-four.”
John-Francis shrugged. “Ah, y’got plenty o’ time, like. No bother, eh?”
“How old a’ya, then? I didn’t put ya much older than meself.” I frowned.
“I’d be twenty-nine in a month or two, like. Feckin’ Lord help me,” he chuckled, tipping back his can.
That surprised me. He looked and certainly acted a lot younger than he was. Somehow knowing John-Francis was almost thirty had me looking at him in a whole new light. His situation became even more unusual, and I burnt to know more.
“Jaysus,” I muttered with a smirk. “Ya an old duffer, aye?”
John-Francis laughed, a proper one that rumbled from deep inside his chest and lit me up. “Feckin’ watch it, y’wee prick.”
“Or what?” I gazed at him through the darkness, enjoying watching his expression morph, growing heated. He didn’t need to respond with words – I got the message loud and clear. I grinned, hiding it behind my can as I took another drink.
I wasn’t sure how long we sat outside John-Francis’s place, but we passed our time chatting and giving one another shite.
Not only was he a top tier ride and handsome as all hell, but I’d come to discover John-Francis was craic’er.
He had a wicked sense of humour and as the drinks flowed, I found myself growing rather fond of him.
If I didn’t find him so fucking attractive, he’d have been a grand wee mate but as it was, a platonic friendship was firmly off the table for us now.
When John-Francis yawned into his fist, halfway through a sentence, I smirked.
“It’s gettin’ late, like. I’d be makin’ me way,” I said, getting up off the grass and brushing myself off. John-Francis was standing beside me in an instant, and I fought against a shudder as he closed into my personal space.
“Y’welcome t’ stay if ya’d like,” he murmured, voice low.
I craned my head back to look at him, holding his gaze firmly. “Well, that all depends, now.”
“On?”
“Y’gonna let me kiss ya? I don’t mind tellin’ ya, I’d be feelin’ a wee bit left out that the wee buffer girl was allowed ta an’ y’refused me the same, like.”
John-Francis didn’t answer me, instead dragged me in closer. His hands ran all over me, making me breathless as my heart pounded against my ribs. Fuck, I wanted him, but I was going to stand firm on this. Unless I was getting what I wanted, I wasn’t going to give in.
When I refused to cooperate with John-Francis’s groping, pushing his hands away, he lost his patience.
With a low growl between clenched teeth that set me alight, his hand grasped me by my throat, pinning me against the caravan.
With his fingers digging in beneath my jaw, he forced me to look up at him.
I could feel his chest heaving against mine as we gazed at one another.
“C’mon,” he rasped, pressing his body against mine. “Y’know y’want it as bad as I do, now.”
“Aye,” I replied, breathless. I wet my lower lip with my tongue. “Y’gonna give me what I’m wantin’?”