Chapter Seventeen – I Don’t Care. I Had A Good Old Feel.
The awkward atmosphere that had settled has rapidly disintegrated into nothingness, but I could still feel some tension between Rhys and Tyson. So there I sat on the log between the two of them, a blanket of anxious energy looming over the three of us that nobody else seemed to pick up on. Miranda was next to Tyson, and then Damon and Tom sat perched on the log. Darkness was beginning to settle over us, the only light coming from the spitting fire and some strategically placed lights around the tents.
I wasn’t counting, but I was guessing that Tyson was on his fifth beer, Miranda on her third, Damon still on his first and Tom was completely pissed to be honest. Then Rhys and I sat there, sober and wincing at how brash Tom was when he was drunk out of his mind.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, but Annie, you can’t be related to Tyson. He’s all straight and no fun and boring and studious. Then you’re here with your free spirited ways, and your boobs which only Rhys has touched. And they’re fine boobs, it’s a pity you’re dying because I personally think the world should all get to touch you’re boobs. I’m not going to touch them as Rhys will detach my testacies if I do. He’s so sweet, and I wish I was gay, and him too so we could have hot sex.” Tom slurred happily, grinning sloppily and wrapping an arm around Tyson apologetically.
“Ah, but you see, I have permission to touch the boobs whenever I want. I practically own those.” Rhys chuckled, playing along with Tom and squeezing my shoulder.
“Dude, really? So you could just lean over and squash them whenever and wherever? Do it, if you do it, you are the man. You the man, Rhys!” Tom giggled while high-fiving Rhys and wafting his beer breath in my face.
“Well I don’t think Annie would appreciate me groping her in public. I’ve already touched them today.” Rhys commiserated, looking regretful.
“Aw c’mon, just this once! One little titty feel!” Tom whined, doing an emotional 180 in a matter of seconds. Damon tuned into our conversation, and doubled over with laughter immediately. Tyson was watching us all, glassy eyed and barely taking any of it in.
“Yeah Rhys, one little titty feel for the pissed out of his mind Tom! He doesn’t get any, and wants to see me get groped in public.” I teased Rhys, ruffling his hair and enjoying his slight blush and wide eyes.
“You heard the woman! She demands you do it, and so do I! If she was telling me to do it, I would.” Tom egged Rhys on, encouraging yet disgusting at the same time.
With a sullen sigh, Rhys grudgingly clapped his right hand in the general area of my upper chest, my coat and several jumpers meaning I didn’t even feel it. Tom cheered loudly, and gave a round of applause. Rhys’s hand slipped down to my waist comfortingly, and I got an apologetic half smile again. I shrugged, meaning it didn’t mean anything. I couldn’t even feel it.
Tom slid off the log then, hitting the ground and slumping pathetically before staring into the fire solemnly, “At least you two have each other, me, I have Damon and he is indeed male. What if I die alone, with sixty-seven cats in a box on the street with a welsh man laughing at me as I take in my last breath?”
Rhys had stopped listening to Tom, so I didn’t bother replying and left Tom to wallow in his self-pity. I leaned against Rhys, and brought my knees up to my chest.
“Sorry for touching your boob, it was either me or him, and besides, I had my face pressed into them earlier, I own them. Mine.” Rhys whispered slowly, the side of his face against my neck. I nodded, not wanting to jostle him.
“They’re not together, Tom.” Tyson murmured, drowning the dregs of beer in the bottom of the bottle and smacking his lips.
“Wait, so Rhys gets to touch them and he’s just a friend?! Why wasn’t I informed of this rule?! I’d have been her friend a long time ago.” Tom yelped, shooting Tyson a disgusted look. Miranda and Damon were taking part in a hushed conversation, very close to each other and I wondered if that was what Rhys and I looked like. Or were we more volatile? One minute we were fighting, next nice, then fighting again and then sticking together like we were glued at the hip.
While thinking this, I was staring at Tom, watching him grow more mournful. Then I saw a flash of silver in his mouth as he flicked something around.
“Tom, do you have your tongue pierced?” I asked, inching closer to him and the cold wind hitting the place where Rhys’s warm hand had been resting. I crawled next to him and he bobbed his head positively. He stuck his tongue out for me to see, and the silver barbell glinted in the light from the fire.
“Aye and I have my hips, nape and lip pierced as well, but no jewellery as my mam doesn’t like it.” Tom explained, looking even glummer than before.
“Do you have any tattoos?” I probed, licking my lips and frowning.
“I have a few, a koi fish on my ribs, a dragon from my left armpit that spans down to my ankle and a full sleeve of geisha’s.” He uttered, seeming to brighten up as he thought about his tattoos. I glanced down at his arms then, and realized that they were always covered. Probably because his mam doesn’t approve of his tattoos.
Tom closed his eyes then, and seconds later soft snored emitted from his slouched frame. I pushed myself up off the ground and went to return to my seat on the log next to Rhys. As I was stepping over his sprawled out legs, he reached out and pulled me into his chest and finally plopped me down on his left leg.
“Do you have any tattoos?” I asked Rhys, fondling a lock of his hair.
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I might have a few that I kept skilfully hidden from you.” Rhys teased.
“But you’re in a gang; you have to have some tattoos!” I insisted, examining his bare forearms for any signs of ink.
“They’re not there, silly!” Rhys laughed, confirming that he did in fact have some in that sentence.
“Aw, please tell me what you have! I’ll do anything!” I pleaded, and it reminded me slightly of this evening when he wouldn’t pull over.
“Anything, hey? I like the sound of that. But I’ll tell you anyway. I have my mother’s face tattooed on my shoulder blade, and some important dates on my inner thigh. Then I have some I designed myself, and I have a picture I did myself also tattooed in a secret place which you will never know about.” He rambled, counting them off with his fingers.
“Can I see them?” I eagerly quipped, hopping up and down on his leg slightly and nearly toppling off.
“If you stop trying to kill yourself by flopping off my lap and into the fire, then you may. Now sit still and stop bouncing, it’s distracting. Go eat a marshmallow or something.” Rhys ordered, oblivious to the contradictions alone in that sentence. How am I supposed to sit still if I am now going to eat a marshmallow? Silly boy and he didn’t have anything to drink.
I undertook his suggestion and strode over to Miranda who was hogging the marshmallows. She was cuddling the bag and stroking the plastic wrapping while talking animatedly to a sober-ish Damon. She saw me approaching and waved merrily, her cheeks flushed with laughter.
“Annie! My dear, dear Annie! Hello! I think I’ve drunk too much, but would you like a marshmallow? Or has Rhys forbidden you from eating sugar?” She smiled, offering me the bag with a grin. I dug my fingers in there and dug around blindly, until I took out a handful. I nodded at Damon who looked pained next to Miranda and he returned my greeting with a watery smile. I crept back to my place, trying to contain the fluffy goodness in my hands. The delicious fluffy goodness.
I sat down on the log beside Rhys again, and he took a marshmallow from the cocoon of my fingers and popped it in his mouth
“Hey, if you wanted one, you should have walked all the way around to Miranda for one, instead of sending me, you lazy sod.” I chastised, raising a cynical eyebrow at him and he smiled angelically and pinched another marshmallow.
“I didn’t want to talk to Miranda, she can be vicious when she’s had alcohol, and I wouldn’t want you to see her like that. She’d be mortified, and to be blunt it isn’t that nice.” Rhys chewed, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunks. I nodded, and stifled my giggles as Tom flirted with a miserable Tyson.
“Aw c’mon, babe! Just one little kiss and I’ll leave you alone then.” Tom bargained, attempting to smile seductively at Tyson and failing greatly. Tyson’s dull look remained, and he was just drinking everything in without comment. He was on his sixth beer now, and kept on glancing at Rhys and Miranda, but not at me.
Tom had grown bored of Tyson now, and moved back to Rhys and me. Rhys welcomed Tom with a cheeky grin, and Tom fell over a tree root as he was on the way over. He sprawled over Rhys’s lap, and chuckled before meeting Rhys’s eyes apologetically.
“Rhys, my man, I’m sorry for feeling down there. I kind of tripped and ended up there, as you do. Sorry Annie, really, really sorry. Well, this is where the party is at, I see. Ah, well, my reason for coming over here is simple.” Tom rambled as he wedged in between Rhys and me and wrapped an arm around both of us.
“Well, I want to share a tent with Annie tonight, Rhys, if you know what I mean.” Said Tom, his words running into each other. I gaped at Tom unbelievingly, and swallowed. I met Rhys’s gaze, and his jaw was set tautly and all signs of amusement vanished from his expression.
“Piss off, Tom. She doesn’t want to.” Rhys answered for me, shrugging Tom’s arm from his shoulder and not blinking. Tom thought about this for a moment, before speaking again.
“But I want some Annie loving, how about a hug instead? I mean, it’s okay to want to protect your woman, Rhys, but you have to share sometimes. There’s no need to be stingy with her, there is loads to go around.” Tom asked again, and while he was distracted, I inched away as much as I could without falling off the log or alerting Tom to what I was doing.
“A hug is okay, just no touching anywhere else.” Rhys warned, still looking uncomfortable with this turn of events and his decision. Tom cheered again, and stood up before offering his arms out to me. I got up too, sending Rhys a dirty look before stepping into Toms arms.
It didn’t feel right, hugging Tom. He was too stiff and too bony for my liking. I lifted my head to look at his face, when he bent his head as well and planted a sloppy kiss on my lips. I stayed planted to the ground, too shocked to move away. Tom’s slobbery tongue touched my lips, and I resisted his forceful plying.
Finally, I tore away and did the first thing I thought of. I kneed him where the sun doesn’t shine. Tom groaned loudly before his knees buckled and he fell onto the ground in a crumpled heap, clutching his groin. I spun around and went to sit next to Tyson and Miranda. Silence had fallen over everyone as they watched what had just gone down between Tom and me.
“Woah, that’s my girl.” Miranda whooped from her seat, applauding and slapping me on the back.
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“Okay, so, it’s Damon and Tom in tent number one, Tyson and me in tent number two and Annie and Rhys in tent number three. Tom is pissed and Damon is looking after him, Tyson and Rhys can’t be within two metres of each other, so it’s the way it has to be, buds.” Miranda reeled off, pointing at the tents as she spoke and chewing on her lip. She had sobered up pretty quickly.
Rhys and Tyson both adjusted their posture when Miranda mentioned their inability to put up with each other at this moment in time, and the sound of Tom dry retching from behind a tree was all that could be heard.
“But what if I don’t want that douche in a tent with my sister?” Tyson challenged, eyeing Rhys hatefully.
“Well, I’m not sharing a tent with him; there wouldn’t be enough room in tent three for me and Rhys. Annie’s smaller, and I can’t stand him either right now.” Miranda replied, narrowing her eyes through her bullshitting. I knew what was going on, Miranda was pulling out all the stops to try and fix Rhys and I together to make up for interrupting our ‘little moment’ earlier.
Tyson rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, before just striding off to tent number two. Miranda followed him, but not without giving Rhys a not very discreet wink and me a winning smile. She was complete and utter evil, without a doubt.
I still sat on the log, admiring the stars in the sky as they twinkled merrily and the moon which was peeking out from behind a cloud. Damon could be heard stuffing Tom into the tent they were sharing and the zip was yanked shut.
“The stars are bright tonight.” I mused, feeling Rhys’s eyes on my face. He made a noise of agreement, and he got up.
“Come on, time for bed, little one! We have a busy day tomorrow.” Rhys teased, throwing in a hint at the end of the sentence.
“Only if you show me the wonderful, wonderful tattoos.” I bargained, trying to pull my puppy dog eyes. Rhys thought about it for a few seconds before dipping his head in consent. Enthusiastically I yelped in approval and did a small victory dance.
“Strip, strip, strip, strip, strip! Let me see them! Strip, strip, strip, strip, strip!” I chanted, enjoying the blush which Rhys had acquired. Seems like being told to strip was embarrassing for him.
“Uh, I’m not showing you the ones on my thigh, as I’d have to take my pants off, and that’d be quite awkward I think.” Rhys mumbled with his eyes on the floor. So, this morning he was in a bed with me in a flimsy pair of undies, and later on in the day he won’t take his pants off for educational reasons? Man, somebody’s ego was bipolar today.
“I’m sure I’ll see them next time I wake up in a bed with you. Now, get that shirt off, I demand I see tattoos. I like tattoos, I want one, but can’t find something that I like enough.” I ordered, raising an eyebrow at his reluctance.
With a sullen sigh, he peeled his many shirts off and revealed his lovely, lovely chest to the world. I didn’t know why he was so buff and toned there, but I wasn’t complaining. Rhys turned to the side to show me his right shoulder blade.
The tattoo I was most interested in was inked there, his mother’s face. The first thing that struck me was the beauty she radiated, and the fact that this face stirred a reaction inside of me, it was familiar to me. The tattoo was in black and white, and her hair was scraped back messily. Her mouth was open in silent laughter, and in between sat a perfect nose. There was one spot of colour in the tattoo, and that was her eyes. They were the same luscious brown that also belonged to Rhys, and they had the same nose. Her lips were thinner, but they seemed right on her somehow. Beneath her elegant neck in a cursive scrawl were the words, ‘Gracie Maggie Brady, 1973 – 2000.’ I ran a thumb over the writing, mouthing the words as I read them.
“She was beautiful, you look so alike.” I whispered, tearing my gaze away from Gracie’s eyes to Rhys’s which were the exact same. He had been watching me apprehensively as I had taken in Gracie; his mother.
I stepped around his body to the other side of his chest and he raised his left arm to show me up the side of his rib cage where a small bird sat on a teapot. I smiled when I saw the absurdity of it, and moved my eyes to the Celtic sun that was around the size of hand spanned his hip. It was partially hidden but it didn’t take too much information to imagine the rest of it. A minute dragon seemed to float two inches below his belly button, only two inches long and unbelievingly narrow and that also disappeared into his clothing. Maybe it was wider beneath his jeans? That was all I could see, but I liked them all. They fitted his personality perfectly.
“I drew the sun, the bird and the dragon myself. I just fancied having them; I don’t know why you didn’t notice them before. I have a few more, but they’re for another day when I have no pants on.” Rhys explained, rubbing the sun tattoo before slipping his shirts back on. He shivered and motioned towards the tent with his head. I nodded and we made our way towards it in the dim light.
Rhys let me enter the tent first and crawled in after me. I could nearly stand up in it, yet Rhys could barely stand without his head brushing the highest part of the domed tent. It was dark in there, and I could just about make out the outline of his face when squinting.
“Righto so, this is your sleeping bag, I’ll have the one nearest the door for in case Tom decides to take a walk in the middle of the night. Just slip in there in your clothes, none of its denim, you’ll be grand.” Rhys reassured, patting the sleeping bag that was mine. He settled in the one right next to mine and stared at the canvas ceiling of the tent wordlessly.
“Hey, Rhys?” I hissed lowly.
“Yes?” He replied.
“You’re in trouble for squeezing my boob.”
“I don’t care, I had a good old feel.”
“Pervert.”
“You know you love it.”
“I know you’re just jealous Tom got a kiss tonight and you didn’t.” I put forward hesitantly.
“Maybe, maybe not. I bet I could get a kiss if I wanted one, and Tom also got kneed in the groin.” Rhys sniggered, trying to be quiet.
“Psh, you just wish that I’d have touched you there.” I laughed, and he sniggered away to himself.
“Hey, did you ever catch that thief?” Rhys asked curiously.
“Uh, what thief?” I was confused, and turned to face him.
“The one that stole the stars from the sky and put them in your eyes.” Rhys deadpanned, his head turning to look at me.
“That was a bad line.”
“Aw, I thought it was sweet and would get me a goodnight kiss.”
“Or maybe a slap?”
“No, more a kiss I’d say.”
“I’ll make do with a goodnight boob feel.”
“Fuck off.”
“Gladly.”