One Story Long

Chapter 4

Declan's POV

My heart is pounding so hard right now. I can't believe I just sent that. That poem means the world to me. I wish I could have sent the full poem but it's a bit long. Hopefully he will go and read the rest, maybe he already knows it? He does seem very knowledgeable in all things literature. I can feel my face burning as I think of him. I need to pull myself together.

"Who is this mystery girl Dex?" Reggie asks. I look up at him and shake my head.

"That is absolutely none of your business," I say.

"Fine keep her a mystery, but when you're done with her can I have a go?" Albert asks. I narrow my eyes at him. If only he knew it's actually a boy I'm talking to. What would they say if they knew.

"Not every girl wants to fuck you Albert," Callum says. I smirk and top up my tea.

"Read us some poetry Dex," Reggie says. I smile at him and I can't help but wonder about him. He is the nicest in our group, he is soft and kind. Though he is not my type at all, could it be possible? Could he be gay too? It seems very unlikely that I would be the only one. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I know it is his reply. I decide to ignore it for now.

"What would you like to hear Reggie?" I ask.

"The Long Song of J.Alfred Prufrock," Reggie replies.

"Eliot it is then," I say. I know the piece by heart. It is one of my favorites. I stand up and button my jacket. I stand by the fireplace and hold my teacup and saucer lightly. I clear my throat before I start reciting it.

"Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question ...

Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"

Let us go and make our visit."

The boys are paying close attention, they listen with intent. Poetry has been hammered into us since were very young. I carry on reciting the piece. Reggie is on the edge of his seat and I smile. I try not to be too cocky but I know this is one thing I can do to capture the attention of a room.

What would David think if he were in this very room, would he be impressed? Would my voice lull him? Or would the grandeur of my life sicken him? I try not to let my mind wander too much.

"I grow old ... I grow old ...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back